Trade Winds by Angel Payne

Author:Angel Payne
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781642631234
Publisher: Waterhouse Press

It flooded every inch of her, seized every muscle, engulfed every thought and feeling in her soul. Golden cried out as sparks of unthinking ecstasy seized her.

Not a moment later, Mast added a deep, guttural groan as he clutched her and froze, then pushed her back to the pillows as he drove his hot release deep into her body.

The drums of their passion dance gradually subsided to a soft and easy cadence, but they rocked to the rhythm for a long time, spending the last notes of their passion song in each other’s eyes. That shared gaze spoke thoughts for which there were no words, communicated sensations for which there was no sigh or moan.

At last, Mast slid down next to her. In truth he was over her, one arm and most of his legs draped possessively across her body. Golden happily took advantage of the situation. She let her hands roam his nakedness, satiating every curiosity she’d harbored about his hard male build for so long.

The man was an ideal physical representative of his name. She raked his thigh, marveling at the power it had even in rest. She found a faded scar on his knee and wondered how he’d come by it. She memorized the steely cords of his back and the massive vines that lived beneath his shoulders as he pulled her closer. She smiled at that and moved to oblige him, snuggling into his embrace, thinking she’d never felt more complete or free in her life.

The warm palette of twilight was quickly giving way to the cool ink of night throughout the cabin, but neither moved to turn up the lantern. They lay in the darkness, content with their entwined state, listening to the evening move through the rest of the hurting, but miraculously still floating, Athena. Canvas flapped somewhere then halted as it was lashed down. The distinctive scrape of knife to wood said Rico was hard at work on the madonna figurine he was carving for his mother. A harmonica began a peaceful tune in accompaniment. Robert swore loudly.

They joined in a quiet laugh over that. Mast shifted so her head fitted into the crook of his neck. He trailed fingers slowly through her hair.

“I can feel your heartbeat,” she whispered.

“I can feel yours.” He slid his touch between her breasts. “Here.”

After another long silence, he drew in a long breath. It was jagged, hesitating.

Golden froze her hand in the middle of his chest.

“Countess Arabella Wincroft,” he murmured into the darkness.

She turned and looked at him, brows knitted. “Who?”

The moon had risen enough that she could see his throat constrict. “You wanted to know what made me change.”

“Yes.” She inflicted a hint of question to the word.

“It wasn’t a what. It was a who. And her name was Arabella.”

He took another long breath, as if summoning the courage to continue. “I was—God, how old was I?—well, I was young. And Arabella was…older, but beautiful, sophisticated. She’d been places I’d never heard of. We were

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