too surprised to move. She ought to
stop him, Amelia knew. But the curiosity bubbling inside her made
that nigh impossible. Her heart started pounding, setting a pace
that would surely kill her if it kept up for long.
Mason's lips quirked upward, very nearly
smiling, and excitement jolted through her. Her whole body felt
atremble, almost as though she were about to faint.
Oh, dear heaven, she couldn't swoon now.
She'd miss her first real kiss.
She had plenty of time to stop him—and none
of the will required to do it. It felt an eternity that Mason held
her there, watching her, his eyes dark with an emotion she couldn't
begin to guess. Slowly he brought his mouth to hers. She heard
herself give a little squeak, seconds before his lips touched hers,
and then her mind went blank.
His grip gentled in her hair, his hand
spanning the back of her head as softly...so very softly...he
touched his lips to hers. Her heart seemed to stop beating for an
instant, stilled by the warmth of his mouth, the sensuous glide of
his lips, the power of his arms cradling her.
If Mason had meant to prove he was barbaric,
he was failing, failing. His touch couldn't have been more tender.
He brought her closer, his fingertips rubbing warm against her
scalp, and nibbled gently at her lower lip.
Breathless, half-protesting, Amelia
fluttered her hands. Her seeking fingertips caught and held his
shirt, and though she knew she ought to push him away, instead she
found herself winding the fabric round until it pulled taut against
the warmth of the outlaw's chest beneath. Her knuckles skimmed the
hard contours of his chest, sought and found the place where his
heart beat wild and fast.
She closed her eyes, wanting to moan,
wanting to cry out at the feelings that welled within her. So this
was what it was to be desired, to be wanted, cherished....
Mason's fingers roamed lower, stroking the
fine hairs beneath the chignon twisted at the nape of her neck. She
tipped her head back, feeling hot sunlight spill onto her eyelids
and across her cheeks. The horse shifted beneath them, then
settled; it could have ridden away with them both, for all Amelia
cared at that moment.
Her lips parted, and coolness washed over
her as Mason shadowed her from the sun. His mouth brushed across
hers, making her yearn to pull him closer.
"Sweet...so sweet," he whispered.
She opened her eyes, gazing at him in
wonder. Sweet...sweet . The endearment, so heartfelt, warmed
her more strongly than the sunshine slanting over them both. No one
had ever suggested she was anything but an unfortunate mistake, a
girl born into a family of men.
Amelia sighed. Carefully, bravely, she
raised her trembling hand to his face, cradled the hard line of his
jaw in her palm. She stroked her thumb across the rugged angle of
his cheekbone. His color was high, blooming across his cheeks like
a fever. Oh, he wanted her, wanted her just as she was, and the
knowledge sent Amelia's spirits soaring.
Closing his eyes, Mason tilted his face into
her palm, rubbing against her skin. "Mmmm," he breathed, "so
soft..."
His whiskers prickled, making her twice as
aware of the differences between them, of the masculine strength
and sureness of him. The appealing roughness of his features, the
breadth of his chest and shoulders, the muscular hardness of his
arms—all of them intrigued her, made Amelia yearn to discover what
secrets could be shared between men and women, for this was a man
she held. A man—and an outlaw.
An outlaw who'd abducted her.
An outlaw who'd thoughtlessly dragged her
over a mountain and part way across the desert.
An outlaw who'd already admitted he didn't
plan to let her go.
Amelia released him, feeling breathless and
uncertain. Did he care even a little for her, or was this what it
meant to be ravished? And she—she was enjoying it! She found
herself staring at his mouth, and tore her gaze away. Was she
wanton, to desire a man she'd only just met?
But what if he'd told her the
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