Excerpt from The Shadowed Heart
Harlequin Historicals July '98
ISBN: 0-373-29022-5
(click on the ISBN number to order online form Amazon.com)

Her eyes on his, she stood and held out her hand.

Luca's heart leaped and began to race. Twining his fingers with hers, he rose. When she moved toward the far corner of the cabin, he moved with her.

"Why?" he asked softly as they stood next to the cushion with its covering of crimson silk. "Why now?"

Chiara turned toward him, her movement bringing her to within a hand's breadth of his body. Lifting her hand, she touched her fingers to his mouth.

"No more questions, Luca."

She lifted her fingers away from his mouth, but he caught her hand and brought it back to his lips.

Slowly he kissed his way the length of each finger, then rested his mouth in the center of her palm. Lightly, he touched the tip of his tongue to her skin, then traced a line down to her wrist where her pulse was already pounding.

"Will you let me love you, Chiara?"

His lips moved against her skin as he spoke, sending heated messages throughout her body, and she almost moaned with the sheer pleasure of it.

He drew her closer and closer still, until she was pressed against his body. That quick, sharp pleasure of body against body pushed his arousal higher even as it steadied him. This he knew, this he was familiar with, this feeling of a woman's body against his. Still, he understood that this would be different. Perhaps on some level he had known it from the very beginning, when he had desired her even before he had touched her for the first time.

He lifted his hands to her hair, which she had tamed into a knot at the back of her neck, and began to remove the pins, one by one. When he had tossed them aside, he combed his fingers through her hair, releasing it to spring back to its natural, wild curls.

Its flowery fragrance drifted toward him, seducing a man already seduced. His hands twisted in the black strands as arousal rose so relentlessly, that he found himself unprepared for its violence.

A small, soft sound pulled him back from the madness and, thinking that he had hurt her, his grip loosened. But he could not bear to relinquish the silky curls and his fingers tunneled deeper and cupped her head.

"Do you have a Gypsy spell, Chiara, that will cool my need for you?" Even as he spoke, his body made a lie of his words as his hips shifted forward, imprinting his desire upon her. "I have hurt you enough." He brushed his mouth over hers--briefly--afraid to take more. "I don't want to hurt you again."

Touched, she raised her hands to his face. "You won't hurt me today, Luca. Not in any way that counts." She smiled an oddly serene smile. "Now it's my turn."

Her hands went to the dark ribbon that held his hair back and untied it with a tug. Then she combed her fingers through his hair, thinking that the strands looked like pale gold in the lamplight.

Again Luca felt the arousal rush through him like a wave breaking against the beach. He bent forward, but this time, he did not possess her mouth. Instead he began to make love to it with teasing touches and caresses.

But when her lips parted against his, he could not resist the mute invitation and his tongue slipped into her mouth and began to taste.

Chiara surrendered to the kiss, opening her lips for his invasion as, in a little while, she would open her body. Her senses began to swim, as if she had drunk too much wine, and her fingers tightened in his hair as she fought for purchase.

The tug of her fingers in his hair had his arousal growing feverish.

"Chiara." His breath was choppy. "I know I should make love to you slowly." He leaned forward to sow a row of hungry kisses along her jawline. "But I can't wait." His hands moved down, tracing the line of her back, then sliding between them to touch her breasts.

Of its own volition her body shifted closer, pressing against his aroused flesh. This was real. There was no lie here.

The press of her soft belly against his swollen body had fresh arousal surging through his blood. He unlaced her blouse and, his fingers quick, urgent, loosened it and pulled it down to expose her shoulders.

In the lamplight, her skin was the golden color of a ripe peach. He lowered his head to taste, sliding the tip of his tongue over the curve of her shoulder, but that one taste made him greedy for more. He tugged open the ribbons of her chemise and, hooking his fingers into both her blouse and the thin silk underneath, pulled them down, effectively imprisoning her arms.

Chiara could feel his hot, uneven breath against her skin. She could feel the trembling of his muscles as he fought for control. It was for her, she realized. He had done it for her.

Her heart filled and opened and she knew that if she had not already loved him, she would have loved him now.

Luca lay still, every muscle taut as he struggled against himself. The desire did not ebb, but the heartbeat that raced against his face somehow blunted its voracious, selfish edge. Raising his head, he looked into her eyes.

They were as blue as the sea and as deep. Then she smiled at him, a calm smile that contrasted sharply with the currents of desire that were pulsing through the room. Something moved within him and he had oddest sensation that he had come home.

"I want to see you," he said, his voice hoarse with passion held in check. "I want to touch you."

There was no fear in her now. There was only desire. Desire to experience again that lavish pleasure that she already knew his hands could give. Desire to give of herself and slake the thirst that burned within him.

"Yes," she whispered, her eyes on his. "Yes."

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