Read Online Savage Destiny (The Hearts of Liberty Series, Book 1) by Phoebe Conn - Free Book Online
Authors: Phoebe Conn
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raised his hand from her mouth, but kissed her before she could reply.
He began to move with slow, shallow thrusts, which he hoped would not cause her any additional pain. No longer responsive, Melissa lay still in his arms until he had found his own release, even if he had not provided her with the pleasure he had intended. Mistaking Melissa's horrified sense of shame for merely shy wonder at the power of love, he pulled his clothing back into place and helped her to her feet.
"I want to shout with joy, but I know we must be quiet. Remove your nightgown and wash in the river," he encouraged.
Not wanting to return to her room with any lingering trace of his loving to incriminate her, Melissa allowed him to help her out of the white garment, and then walked down to the river's edge and waded in. The water's chill made her shiver, but that was such a slight discomfort compared with her overwhelming sense of guilt, that she scarcely noticed it. For one terrifying moment, she considered drowning herself, but swiftly abandoned the idea. If she never told anyone what had happened that night, never admitted it to a single soul, no one would ever suspect that she had lost her virginity. Now knowing precisely what to expect on her wedding night, she was confident she could portray a virgin so convincingly that her new husband would believe her to be a chaste bride.
When she left the water, Hunter was waiting to help her again don her nightgown. It had gotten pushed up around her waist before he had entered her, and bore no telltale stains to give away her secret. The instant she was dressed, she turned toward her house, but Hunter reached out to stop her and handed her the shawl she had forgotten.
"Making love will be much better when I get back," he promised. "You will enjoy it as much as I do then."
Melissa dared not tell him that she would never spend another second alone with him, for fear he would complain so loudly he would wake her family. What if he then demanded her for a wife? she agonized. She had been raised to wed a fine gentleman who would give her the same prestigious social position and pampered life her parents had provided.
Unable to bear the possibility she had jeopardized her whole future by foolishly encouraging an amorous Indian's passions, she raised up on her tiptoes to kiss him goodbye, and then fled toward the safety of her home. By the time she had reached her bedroom, she lost her tenuous hold on her composure and had to muffle her sobs with the shawl she had almost carelessly left at her lover's feet.
Unable to tame an ecstatic grin, Hunter remained at the dock, watching the moonlight play on the river and remembering the delectable softness of his beloved's fair skin. He had never expected to fall in love with a white woman, but Melissa Barclay was so irresistibly appealing, he had not been able to help himself. He would have to move far more slowly with her parents than he had with her, but he intended to take Melissa for his wife, and for her sake, he wanted their consent. While he was certain they had never imagined having a Seneca son-in-law, he would strive to make them proud.
Chapter 4
Melissa struggled against the paralyzing fear that all her bright hopes for an advantageous marriage and blissfully happy life had vanished along with her virtue. She was only eighteen, but all because of an irresistibly appealing Indian brave, her whole future lay in jeopardy. Her tears became hoarse, choking sobs as she weighed the necessity of keeping the shame of her disastrous flirtation with Hunter a secret, and the horrible possibility of it being discovered. She would never tell, never even hint that there had ever been anything whatsoever between them.
But would Hunter be equally discreet? she agonized.
What were the chances he would keep the shocking details of their friendship to himself? Clearly he was a proud man, but if anything, she had minimized whatever compliments Byron
He began to move with slow, shallow thrusts, which he hoped would not cause her any additional pain. No longer responsive, Melissa lay still in his arms until he had found his own release, even if he had not provided her with the pleasure he had intended. Mistaking Melissa's horrified sense of shame for merely shy wonder at the power of love, he pulled his clothing back into place and helped her to her feet.
"I want to shout with joy, but I know we must be quiet. Remove your nightgown and wash in the river," he encouraged.
Not wanting to return to her room with any lingering trace of his loving to incriminate her, Melissa allowed him to help her out of the white garment, and then walked down to the river's edge and waded in. The water's chill made her shiver, but that was such a slight discomfort compared with her overwhelming sense of guilt, that she scarcely noticed it. For one terrifying moment, she considered drowning herself, but swiftly abandoned the idea. If she never told anyone what had happened that night, never admitted it to a single soul, no one would ever suspect that she had lost her virginity. Now knowing precisely what to expect on her wedding night, she was confident she could portray a virgin so convincingly that her new husband would believe her to be a chaste bride.
When she left the water, Hunter was waiting to help her again don her nightgown. It had gotten pushed up around her waist before he had entered her, and bore no telltale stains to give away her secret. The instant she was dressed, she turned toward her house, but Hunter reached out to stop her and handed her the shawl she had forgotten.
"Making love will be much better when I get back," he promised. "You will enjoy it as much as I do then."
Melissa dared not tell him that she would never spend another second alone with him, for fear he would complain so loudly he would wake her family. What if he then demanded her for a wife? she agonized. She had been raised to wed a fine gentleman who would give her the same prestigious social position and pampered life her parents had provided.
Unable to bear the possibility she had jeopardized her whole future by foolishly encouraging an amorous Indian's passions, she raised up on her tiptoes to kiss him goodbye, and then fled toward the safety of her home. By the time she had reached her bedroom, she lost her tenuous hold on her composure and had to muffle her sobs with the shawl she had almost carelessly left at her lover's feet.
Unable to tame an ecstatic grin, Hunter remained at the dock, watching the moonlight play on the river and remembering the delectable softness of his beloved's fair skin. He had never expected to fall in love with a white woman, but Melissa Barclay was so irresistibly appealing, he had not been able to help himself. He would have to move far more slowly with her parents than he had with her, but he intended to take Melissa for his wife, and for her sake, he wanted their consent. While he was certain they had never imagined having a Seneca son-in-law, he would strive to make them proud.
Chapter 4
Melissa struggled against the paralyzing fear that all her bright hopes for an advantageous marriage and blissfully happy life had vanished along with her virtue. She was only eighteen, but all because of an irresistibly appealing Indian brave, her whole future lay in jeopardy. Her tears became hoarse, choking sobs as she weighed the necessity of keeping the shame of her disastrous flirtation with Hunter a secret, and the horrible possibility of it being discovered. She would never tell, never even hint that there had ever been anything whatsoever between them.
But would Hunter be equally discreet? she agonized.
What were the chances he would keep the shocking details of their friendship to himself? Clearly he was a proud man, but if anything, she had minimized whatever compliments Byron
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