Her Reaper's Arms, Charlotte Boyett-Compo [world best books to read .TXT] 📗

six feet long, that

had been placed before the windows—one to either side and the other sitting at one end

between the other two. A huge square table loaded with candlesticks both fat and tall

covered the glass-topped table.

“I like to light them at night and just sit and watch the light reflected in the

window,” he told her.

Lea looked at him and recognized the loneliness in his tone. “We’ll sit and watch

the light together, milord,” she said.

A grand piano sat in one corner of the room.

“I don’t play,” he said. “Do you?”

“As a matter of fact I do,” she said. “Not well, but I do play.”

“That’s wonderful!” he said, and hugged her. “I can’t wait to hear you.”

“Well—”

He didn’t give her a chance to finish for he was showing her the rest of the parlor.

There were no curtains on the window, but curious things he called blinds that could be

drawn across to conceal the glass. Finishing out the room in one corner was a tableau of

two very comfortable-looking chairs with footrests flanking a small table with a lamp

where he told her he spent many an hour reading. Behind the chairs on the two

adjacent walls were floor-to-ceiling bookshelves groaning beneath the weight of many

tomes.

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“Most of them came from the lowest level,” he told her, running a hand gently and

respectfully across the spine of a large book. “They’re not mine but I think of them as

belonging to me.”

Before Lea could comment on that, he had grabbed her hand to show her what he

called the galley.

It was a kitchen complete with large stove, an icebox, huge sink and so many

cabinets and so much countertop space it would have done a hotel proud.

Next he took her past the formal dining room with its table large enough to seat

twelve diners, down a short hall to the first bedroom.

“It’s one of two guest rooms but no one’s ever slept there,” he said, tugging her

toward the last room he wanted to show her. “And this is our room.”

Lea’s mouth dropped open. The room was larger than the parlor and in the very

center of one long wall sat the largest bed she’d ever seen.

“It could sleep three people comfortably,” he told her with a wicked gleam in his

eye.

Made of brass, the bed’s headboard and footboard posts had to be as large—or

larger—than her thigh. It was massive with swirls that caught the faint light from the

rainy day. She knew it would be stunning in the full light of the sun.

Though the walls were a pale shade of green she found very pleasing, the rustcolored coverlet on the bed clashed horribly with the green-and-wine-plaid drapes at

the window. The carpeting was a deep burgundy and so plush under the foot she felt as

though she were sinking into it. She knew the only thing she’d change would be the

horrendous coverlet.

“And in here’s the bathing room!” he said, his eyes bright.

Nothing could have prepared her for the opulence of the bathing chamber. As large

as her mother’s parlor had been when Lea still lived at home, the room was tiled in a

paler shade of green than the bedchamber walls, and the floor was tiled in dark green

with flecks of gold running through the pattern. A black marble tub large enough to fit

four people sat in one corner beside a glassed-in area Bevyn labeled the shower. The

necessary was a beautiful black marble fixture with a handle he told her had been cast

from pure gold. Dual black marble sinks had been sunken into a long counter with a

mirror that covered nearly one entire wall behind the golden faucets.

“It is amazing,” Lea breathed.

“Now, time’s wasting. Let’s have sex,” he said, dragging her back through the

bathing room.

“What?”

He pulled her to the bed, scooped her up and tossed her to the center of the bed,

ripping off his shirt as she bounced on the mattress. Buttons pinged against the wall.

“Bevyn!” she chastised.

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He was hopping on one foot as he yanked off a boot. “Sex,” he said. “We’re going

to have sex. No argument.”

She lay there braced on her elbows with her legs splayed, skirt hiked up to her

knees, watching him discard his clothing, and when he was entirely naked, before he

could throw himself on her, she held up a hand.

“What?” he whined.

“Why didn’t you just poof your clothes away, Reaper?” she asked, trying not to

laugh at his expression.

Bevyn’s eyebrows slashed together then he slapped his forehead with the base of

one palm. “Shit,” he mumbled. “I didn’t think of that!”

She lay down and held her arms up to him. “Come here, you bad man.”

The Reaper grinned so manically, she could not keep from laughing as he came

crashing down on her, pressing her to the bed as he fumbled her skirts up higher and

cupped her between her thighs.

“Gods-be-damned bloomers! What a fucking nuisance!” he snarled, and in one lithe

movement divested her of the offending garment, ripping them as they caught on the

heel of her slipper.

He snatched off her slippers, tore off her stockings and nudged her legs apart, his

hand going to her breast. His head swiveled toward the clock on the bedside table.

“Forty minutes. I’ve got forty minutes.”

Lea reached both hands to his face and turned his head toward her. “Bevyn,” she

said in a reasonable voice. “It only takes ten minutes to fully satisfy a woman. In forty,

you could bend our world, my love.”

“But it’ll have to last us, wench,” he said, his eyes filled with pleading. “I’ll be gone

a week and—”

“I will miss you every second you are away but when you return, just imagine how

intense the reunion will be,” she said calmly.

“Intense?” he echoed.

“Very intense,” she said. “Now slow down and make love—not sex—to your

woman.”

She could feel his heart slamming against his chest, the heated pulsing of his erect

cock stabbing against her stomach as he slid gently down her until he was lying

between her thighs, nudging her legs farther apart. His hand shook as he softly

kneaded her breast.

“I love you,” he said, his heart in his gaze.

“I know, milord,” she said. “And your love is returned a