Portrait of My Heart by Patricia Cabot

Author:Patricia Cabot [Cabot, Patricia]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Romance, Adult, Historical
ISBN: 9780312968144
Google: Kav7G6mScaoC
Amazon: B00O7B9RPM
Barnesnoble: B00O7B9RPM
Goodreads: 640120
Publisher: St. Martin's Paperbacks
Published: 2015-01-06T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 22

“Jeremy,” Maggie cried indignantly, although it was difficult to speak clearly with her face to the mattress. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Jeremy had lifted the hem of her dressing gown up over her hips, and was noting with interest that he could observe the heart shape of her bottom quite clearly through the cotton of her nightdress. “Me?” he queried innocently. “Just continuing where we left off earlier … .”

“My God!” She tried to roll over, but Jeremy held quite firmly onto her hips. “Jeremy, really!” Maggie chastised him over her shoulder. “Somebody just tried to kill you! How can you think about making love at a time like this?”

“My dear Mags,” he said dryly. “If I can think about making love with you with hundreds of Bengalese bullets flying over my head, I can certainly think about making love with you at a time like this.” Leaning over to place a kiss on her backside, he added, when she opened her mouth to speak again, “And don’t ask me about my shoulder. It doesn’t hurt, and I don’t foresee our lovemaking reopening the wound … .”

Maggie sucked in her breath. “You conceited pig,” she cried, this time managing to wriggle out of his arms. “As if I would even consider making love with you, after what you did!”

“What’d I do?” Jeremy asked, raising a black eyebrow.

Maggie was dismayed by the fact that she couldn’t help but notice that his bare chest, besides being scarred, was also quite thickly haired. The dark curls formed a rich mat that fanned out over his flat nipples, narrowing as it trailed down his lean, muscular stomach, and then disappeared beneath the sheet in a provocative arrow. Maggie, however, wasn’t about to investigate what lay in the direction that arrow pointed.

Or so she told herself.

“You know very well what you did,” she said, tossing her long hair loftily. “You—”

And the next thing she knew, Jeremy was upon her. Though she hastily flung out a pair of hands to brace her body from the impact of his, she found them immediately seized in grips of iron, and pinned to the mattress, as if Jeremy suspected she might try to strike at him again, as she had in the Althorpes’ library—not to mention that day in the Rawlings Manor stables, five years earlier. With the full weight of his body pressing down upon her, however, she could barely move, let alone launch any sort of counterattack. Blinking up at his face, which hovered mere inches from hers, she grunted, “Get off me, you fool.”

Jeremy, delighting in the feel of her luscious body beneath his, felt a little short of breath. He was more than aware that Maggie felt the same, since her breasts, crushed beneath him, were rising and falling rapidly. He could even see her heart rattle hard against her chest, making the soft flesh above it quiver with each pulsation. Was she as impassioned as he, or merely frightened? There was only one way to be sure.

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