A Whisper of Roses by Teresa Medeiros

Author:Teresa Medeiros [Medeiros, Teresa]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Historical Romance, Erotic, Adult
ISBN: 9780786200702
Google: LgUOQMnrL6gC
Amazon: 0553294083
Barnesnoble: 0553294083
Goodreads: 244471
Publisher: Macmillan Library Reference
Published: 1993-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Sabrina awoke to the provocative sensation of being tenderly bathed between her legs. Her eyes fluttered open to find Morgan silhouetted against the dwindling firelight. Unaware that she was watching him, he dipped a rag into a basin of water, then dabbed inward from her thighs, his hands unspeakably gentle as they soothed her fragile, swollen tissues.

Sabrina had witnessed more than once the tenderness his hands were capable of while he had nursed some small, wounded creature back to health. But she had never dreamed to experience it herself. The jarring intimacy of the act laid her heart bare. A haze of pleasure spread from his touch. A soft, helpless sound escaped her lips.

Morgan lifted his head. Their eyes met across her naked length. Her breasts swelled and tingled beneath his perusal. Heat crept up her body, half shyness, half arousal.

The tapers had melted to fragrant pools of wax, but Sabrina didn’t need much light to see the unguarded vulnerability in Morgan’s eyes. He lowered them quickly, staring at the rag in his hand. She realized it was a scrap of wool cut from his plaid, stained now with her blood.

He dipped the cloth into the water, water he’d warmed for her comfort. “I never meant to hurt you, lass. You’re so damned delicate. I was half afraid I’d gone and killed you.”

Morgan stroked the wool across her, but the innocent benevolence of the gesture was lost as their gazes met again. Sabrina’s lips were parted, her cheeks flushed. Morgan felt his traitorous body responding against his will. Raw hunger flooded him. He knew it was too soon for her; her battered body couldn’t possibly be ready to accept him again. He could only hurt her more.

“You should sleep, lass,” he said gruffly, rinsing out the rag. “ ‘Twill be dawn soon enough.”

Dawn, Sabrina thought, with its harsh winter light cast across their doubts and differences. She didn’t care if dawn never came. She wanted to remain there forever, cloaked in nothing but the waning firelight and the heated regard of her husband’s eyes. She wanted to stir the banked embers she saw in their depths to roaring flame. To break his rigid control and prove to him that she wasn’t some fragile figurine that could be shattered by his touch.

When Morgan reached to draw the plaid over her, she sat up on her knees, caught his fist, and brought it to her lips. Her tongue played lightly over his knuckles.

She mocked his burr deliberately. “So ye think a puir wee Cameron lass too puny for a MacDonnell’s legendary stamina? Perhaps ye’ve been takin‘ those songs about yer clan a mite too seriously, sir.”

Morgan was stunned by the mischievous sparkle of Sabrina’s eyes. He had expected more tears, perhaps bitter accusations. His gaze dropped to the pert tips of her breasts. They tightened to rosy nubs beneath his perusal. His breath caught in a near groan.

He jerked his gaze back to her face and cleared his throat. “Now, lass, I cannot blame you for bein‘ wary of me.

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