Page 31 of A Match Made in Heather

The heated promise of that soft order still beat inside her, stirring the embers of desire that burned in her belly. That burning had simmered there for ten years, occasionally flaring when an unbidden dream brought him back to her . . . only to wake in the morning to find him once more gone and to sob into her pillow until the longing and loneliness eased away.

Now, Garrick was here. No longer a dream but flesh and blood—andmore.More confident, more powerful, more hungry . . . for her.

When she’d been in his arms before, that powerful feeling of being loved completely had brought her more joy than she’d imagined possible. She’d given her body, but she’d loved with her heart. In those precious moments, she knew she’d been loved in return.

Then it had stopped, and she’d been devastated.

But she’d thought time had healed her heart. Hadn’t she moved on, found another man who wanted to marry her? Hadn’t she finally come to peace with Garrick’s ghost?

But the last fortnight had proven her wrong. Oh, soverywrong!

Since this afternoon, being in his arms again was all she could think about. He’d spun a web of tantalizing images that had her once again longing to be with him. The memories flooded back with such force that she could actually smell his masculine scent surrounding her everywhere she went, could taste him again on her lips and feel his hard muscles beneath her fingertips as the solid weight of his body pressed so deliciously down onto hers.

She could have that again, if she let herself. For one more night, he could be hers, just as he’d once been.

With a deep breath of determination, she threw open the door—

And froze.

Garrick stood in his doorway, casually leaning a shoulder against the frame as if patiently waiting for her. He wore only a pair of breeches, and she couldn’t help raking her gaze over him. Beneath broad shoulders and bracketed by sculpted biceps, the hard muscles of his chest gave way to a ridged abdomen dusted by a trail of hair that disappeared down beneath his waistband. Further below, muscular thighs outlined breeches so form-fitting that it was almost as if he wore nothing at all. A merciless urge gripped her to press her body against his, to mold her softness against his hardness and place a delicate kiss right there in the center of his chest. To brand him with the heat of her lips and mark him forever as hers.

When her gaze slowly lifted back up his body to meet his, her breath lodged in her tightening throat as his dark eyes returned her stare, intense and gleaming even in the shadows.

“This . . .” She swallowed. Hard. In the silence of the sleeping house, her whisper sounded like a shout. “This means nothing.”

He didn’t reply. Neither did he move, except to shift his hips against the frame just far enough to cross his arms over his chest.

“I’ve not forgiven you for leaving,” she made clear, although her resolve was undercut by the breathy tremble in her voice. “I don’t think I ever will.”

His expression remained impassive as he stood silently, listening but not answering to either challenge her or accept blame.

“And it certainly doesn’t mean that I’m letting you back into my life.”

The only movement he made was a deliberate lowering of his eyes to trail his gaze over her as she stood there in the slant of moonlight that fell through the tall windows fronting the stairs. Goosebumps blossomed across her skin everywhere he looked, and she shivered, thankful that in the shadows he couldn’t see her nipples as they puckered achingly beneath the cotton night rail.

She forced a haughty sniff. “This doesn’t even mean that I like you.”

At that, he arched a brow. Then held out his hand in silent invitation.

Her belly twisted into knots. She stared at his outstretched hand, hesitating to take it. But this was what she wanted, what she’dalwayswanted—Garrick returned to her. So she inhaled a deep, shaking breath and slipped her hand into his.

He led her into his room and closed the door behind her with a soft click of the lock.

Her heart leapt into a fierce tattoo, and the deep breath she’d taken just moments before now panted from her. All of her trembled when he lifted her hand to his lips and placed a tender kiss to her palm.

The heat of that soft caress flamed up her arm and down into her breasts. As if he knew the effect he had on her, he slowly trailed his lips down her wrist and along her forearm to her elbow, tracing the path of heat.

“You are beautiful, Arabel,” he rasped in a hoarse voice, lifting his mouth from her arm in order to claim another hungry look at her. “The most beautiful woman I’ve ever known, inside and out.”

He cupped his palm against her cheek, and she closed her eyes at the intensity of his words. With the heat of his body seeping into hers as he shifted closer, she could almost believe that he’d never left her. That they’d still planned on marrying and spending the rest of their lives together.

He slid his hand across her cheek to comb his fingers through her hair. “So much ferocity in such a beautiful lass. Fiery hair and a spirit to match, with untamed wildness in her heart.”

Her mouth tugged into a nervous smile at that, then she inhaled sharply when she felt his lips brush against hers. Soft caresses, slow nibbles, then a daring sweep of his tongue across her bottom lip . . . With a sigh, she parted her lips and allowed him to slip inside, to explore the depths of her desire.

Even this kiss was tender and slow. Her heart jumped in sudden panic as she realized what he’d planned for tonight—not a passionate encounter, but a savoring. As if attempting to make up for all they’d missed during the past decade apart.

But hecouldn’t! Because savoring meant far more than a simple satiation of the frustrated lust rising between them. It meant unleashing feelings best kept hidden.