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either."
He took off his hat, holding her gaze the whole time. He looked incredibly
grim. He slipped off his jacket and his tie, and loosened the top buttons of his
skirt, exposing a dark, muscular chest thick with black hair.
The sight of him like that brought back long-buried needs and hungers.
"What are you doing?" she asked when his belt followed the rest and he'd
dropped into a chair to shed his boots.
"Undressing," he said. He got back up again and moved toward her.
She started to sidestep, but she was seconds too late. He picked her up and
carried her into the bedroom. He threw her onto the bed, following her down
with a minimum of exertion.
With his arms on either side of her supporting his weight, she was trapped.
"Powell..."
His black eyes were faintly apologetic. "I'm sorry," he murmured as his
mouth eased down against hers.
In the old days, their lovemaking had been passionate, but he'd always
been the one to draw back. His reserve was what had convinced her later that
he hadn't loved her.
Now, there was no reserve at all, and he was kissing her in a way he never
had. His lips didn't cherish, they aroused, and aroused violently. He made her
tremble with longings she'd never felt, even with him. His hands were as
reckless as his mouth, touching, invading, probing, against her naked skin
while the only sounds in the room were his quick, sharp breaths and the
thunder of his heart beating against her bare breasts.
She didn't even realize he'd half undressed her. She was too involved in the
pleasure he was giving her to care about anything except that she wanted
him to have access to her soft, warm skin. She needed the feel of his mouth on
her, ached for it, hurt to have it. She arched up against him, moaning when
the pleasure became more than she could bear.
Vaguely she was aware that a lot of skin was touching other skin. She felt
the warm strength of his body against hers and there didn't seem to be any
fabric separating them anymore. The hair on his long legs brushed her bare
ones as he separated them and moved so that he was lying completely against
her in an intimacy they'd never shared.
She panicked then, freezing when she felt his aroused body in intimate
contact with her own.
His mouth softened on hers, gentled, so tender that she couldn't resist
him. His hands smoothed up and down her body, and he smiled against her
lips.
"Easy," he whispered, lifting his head so that he could see her wet, dazed
eyes. His hips moved and she stiffened. "Does that hurt?" he asked softly.
She bit her lower lip. Her hands clenched against his hard arms. "It.. .yes."
"You're embarrassed. Shocked, too." He brushed his lips against hers as he
moved again, tenderly, but even so, the pain was there again and she flinched.
His eyes searched hers and the look on his face became strained, passionate,
almost grim. "I guess it has to hurt this time," he said unsteadily, "but it
won't for long."
She swallowed. "It's... wrong."
He shook his head. "We're going to be married. This is my insurance."
"In... surance?" She gasped, because he was filling her...
"Yes." He moved again, and this time she gasped because it was so sweet,
and her hips lifted to prolong it. "I'm giving you a baby, Antonia," he breathed
reverently, and even as the words entered her ear, his mouth crushed down
over hers and his body moved urgently, and the whole world dissolved in a
sweet, hot fire that lifted her like a bird in his arms and slung her headlong up
into the sky...
He didn't look guilty. That was her first thought when his face came into
vivid focus above her. He was smiling, and the expression in his black eyes
made her want to hit him. She flushed to the very roots of her hair, as much
from the intimacy of their position as from her memories of the past few
hectic, unbelievably passionate minutes.
"That settles all the arguments you might have against marriage, I trust?"
he asked outrageously. He drew a strand of damp blond hair over her nose
playfully. "If we'd done this nine years ago, nothing could have come between
us. It was sweeter than I dreamed it would be, and believe me, I dreamed a lot
in nine years."
She sighed heavily, searching his black eyes. They were warm and soft now
and she waited for the shame and guilt to come, but it didn't. It was very
natural to lie naked in his arms and let him look at her and draw his fingers
against her in lazy, intimate caresses.
"No arguments at all?" he asked at her lips, and kissed her gently. "You
look worried."
"I am," she said honestly. Her wide eyes met his. "I'm midway between
periods."
He smiled slowly. "The best time," bemused.
"But a baby so soon...!"
His fingers covered her lips and stopped the words. "So late," he replied.
"You're already twenty-seven."
"I know, but there's Maggie," she said miserably. "She doesn't like me. She
won't want me there at all... and a baby, Powell! It will be so hard on her."
"We'll cross bridges when we come to them," he said. His eyes slid down her
body and back up and desire kindled in their black depths again. His face
began to tauten, his caresses became arousing. When she shivered and a soft
moan passed between her parted lips, he bent to kiss them with renewed
hunger.
"Can you take me again?" he whispered provocatively. "Will it hurt?"
She slid closer to him, feeling the instant response of his body, feeling him
shiver as she positioned her body to accept his. She looked into his eyes and
caught her breath when he moved down.
He stilled, watching her, his heartbeat shaking them both. He lifted and
pushed, watched. Her eyes dilated and he eased down again, harder this time,
into complete possession.
She gasped. But her hands were pulling at him, not pushing. He smiled
slowly and bent to cover her mouth with his. There had never been a time in
his life when he felt more masculine than now, with her soft cries in his ear and
her body begging for his. He closed his eyes and gave in to the glory of loving
her.
Eventually they had lunch and went to Barrie's apartment when she was
due home. One look at them told the story, and she hugged Antonia warmly.
"Congratulations. I told you it would work out one day."
"It worked out, all right," Antonia said, and then told her friend the real
reason why she'd come back to Arizona.
Barrie had to sit down. Her green eyes were wide, her face drawn as she
realized the agony her friend had suffered.
"Why didn't you tell me?" she burst out. "For the same reason she didn't
tell me," Powell murmured dryly, holding Antonia's hand tight in his. "She
didn't want to worry anyone."
"You idiot!" Barrie muttered. "I'd have made you go back to the doctor."
"That's why I didn't tell you," Antonia said. "I would have told you
eventually, though." "Thanks a lot!"
"You'd have done exactly the same thing, maybe worse," Antonia said,
unperturbed, as she grinned at Barrie. "You have to come to the wedding."
"When is it?"
"Ten in the morning, day after tomorrow, at the county courthouse here,"
Powell said with a chuckle. "I have the license, Dr. Claridge did the blood
work this morning and we're going back to Bighorn wearing our rings."
"I have a spare room," Barrie offered.
Powell shook his head. "Thanks, but she's mine now," he said possessively,
searching Antonia's face with quick, hungry eyes. "I'm not letting her out of
my sight."
"I can understand that," Barrie agreed. "Well, do you have plans for the
evening, or do you want to take in a movie with me? That new period piece is on
at the shopping center."
"That might be fun," Antonia said, looking up at Powell.
"I like costume dramas," he seconded. "Suits me."
Besides, he told Antonia later, when they were briefly alone, she wasn't
going to be in any shape for what he really wanted for another day or so. That
being the case, a movie was as good as anything to pass the time. As long as
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