Nora Roberts the Irish Born Trilogy by Nora Roberts

Author:Nora Roberts [Roberts, Nora]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Romance, General, Fiction
ISBN: 9781101531358
Google: jap1EolzKfkC
Amazon: B004TS9FC8
Publisher: Jove
Published: 2011-05-03T07:00:00+00:00

She felt odd as she wrapped the towel around her freshly scrubbed body. Different. It was something that could never be explained to a man, she supposed. They lost nothing when they gave themselves the first time. There was no sharp tearing of self to admit another. But it wasn’t pain she remembered, even the soreness between her thighs didn’t bring the violence of invasion to mind. It was the unity she thought of. The sweet and simple bond of mating.

She studied herself in the misty mirror. She looked warm, she decided. It was the same face, surely, that she’d glimpsed countless times in countless mirrors. Yet wasn’t there a softness here she’d never noticed before? In the eyes, around the mouth? Love had done that. The love she held in her heart, the love she’d tasted for the first time with her body.

Perhaps it was only the first time that a woman felt so aware of herself, so stripped of everything but flesh and soul. And perhaps, she thought, because she was older than most, the moment was all the more overwhelming and precious.

He wanted her. Brianna closed her eyes, the better to feel those long, slow ripples of delight. A beautiful man with a beautiful mind and kind heart wanted her.

All of her life she’d dreamed of finding him. Now she had.

She stepped into the bedroom, and saw him. He’d put fresh linen on the bed and had laid one of her white flannel gowns at the foot of it. He stood now in jeans unsnapped and relaxed on his hips, with champagne bubbling in glasses and candlelight simmering in his eyes.

“I’m hoping you’ll wear it,” he said when she saw her gaze rest on the prim, old-fashioned nightgown. “I’ve imagined getting you out of it since that first night. I watched you come down the stairs, a candle in one hand, a wolfhound in the other, and my head went spinning.”

She picked up a sleeve. How much she wished it was silk or lace or something that would make a man’s blood heat. “ ’Tisn’t very alluring, I think.”

“You think wrong.”

Because she had nothing else, and it seemed to please him, she slipped the gown over her head, letting the towel fall away as the flannel slid down. His muffled groan had her smiling over uncertainly.

“Brianna, what a picture you are. Leave the towel,” he murmured as she bent to retrieve it. “Come here. Please.”

She stepped forward, that half smile on her face and nerves threatening to swallow her, to take the glass he held out. She sipped, discovered the frothy wine did nothing to ease her dry throat. He was looking at her, she thought, the way she imagined a tiger might look at a lamb just before he pounced.

“You haven’t had dinner,” she said.

“No.” Don’t frighten her, idiot, he warned himself and struggled back the urge to devour. He took a slow sample of champagne, watching her, wanting her. “I was just thinking I wanted it.

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