"You would protect me?"
He nodded. He would always see to her welfare first. He could almost feel her relief.
She began to speak again, ignoring him, pushing him to simmering, heated emotions.
She wasn't getting out of the night ahead of them. He was not that easily distracted. "Amorica, decide now." Lord, but he wanted her. "If you want this, take the gown off."
"Amorica, come here." He opened his arms to her, thinking she would come to him. Thinking she would surrender herself, give to him what he'd wanted so desperately from the first moment he'd seen her.
He'd been a lovesick fool.
Next thing he knew she was hissing that he was a smuggling son of a bitch, a snake, and scalawag, but she sat up and nearly ripped her gown herself wrenching it over her head.
"Amorica!" What was happening here? He had not thought she would give herself to him and curse him at the same time.
She cursed him just as quietly as she could manage.
Furiously, she threw the gown as well as the rest of her clothing on the moss covered ground beside the blanket, then she sat naked beside him, seething and trembling. Her eyes rose to meet his. They were liquid, green, and shimmering. She threw herself back on the ground, an artful sacrifice to him.
"Go ahead then. Do it. Just do whatever men do and be over with it." Hard put not to laugh aloud, he stretched out beside her, resting on one elbow, wondering how to proceed. This was not how he had imagined making love to his wife. Yet he had never thought it would be candlelit.
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