Borne in Blood Read Online Free PDF

cloak off his shoulders and handed it to his manservant as he began his ascent.
    Hero took the corridor on the west side of the gallery, following it along to the large bedchamber at its end. Like the rest of the nineteen-room château, its draperies and curtains were drawn and the metal fire-screen protected the fine Turkish carpet from stray sparks. A single candle protected by a glass chimney stood on the bedside table, providing enough illumination to make the room into a grotto, full of promise and secrets. As she threw the wolf-skin rug onto the foot of the bed, Hero shivered, and swung around to face Ragoczy. “Tell me what you want.”
    “I ought to ask that of you,” he said, as he went up to her and took her into his arms. “You should not be cold.” He glanced at the nearest window where the blizzard drummed icy fingers and whimpered.
    “How could I be?” She leaned her head on his shoulder. “Outside is cold. In here, there is heat.”
    “Then we must make sure it stays that way.” He touched her hair, loosening the three long ivory pins that held the coronet in place; the single, thick plait swung down her back. Slowly he kissed her forehead and closed eyelids, then put his attention on her shoulders, caressing them through the fabric of her jacket and shirt before unfastening the first of the three military-style frogs that kept it closed. He put a dozen little kisses along her brow and cheek; all the while, he listened to her breathing, to the sound of her pulse, matching his pace to her arousal. He reached over and pulled back the goose-down comforter, revealing the pristine linen sheets. “Where is your robe?”
    “Inside the door of my closet,” she whispered.
    He gently assisted her to be seated on the bed, gave her a long, soft, searching kiss, then went to fetch her robe. “I would not wish you to be cold,” he said, as he brought the long, heavy, quilted-silk garment to her. “Let me help you with your jacket and your dress.” He unfastened the stud holding her jabot and set it aside.
    She held out her arms to the sides, her palms turned up, her eyes slightly averted. “Thank you,” she said softly.
    Skillfully, unhurriedly, he eased her out of the jacket, setting it on the dresser between the closet and the bed; next he unfastened the lacing at the back of the high bodice of her round-dress; he worked the shoulders down her arms and was left with the camisole to unbutton. “If you will stand, I’ll remove the dress and shirt now.”
    Before she did, she touched his face, still not looking directly at him. She quivered at his touch as he unfastened the buttons. Clad only in her undergarments she accepted her robe without any hesitation, snuggling into its deep folds with every sign of relief. “I don’t want you to be cold,” she said, leaning back onto the exposed sheets. “Come lie next to me. Here. You’ll be warm.”
    “I will, but not for fear of cold,” he said, kneeling beside the bed in order to slide the robe open so that he could reach her garters and lower her stockings before removing her kid-skin house-shoes.
    “You have the most wonderful touch,” she murmured as his hands moved deliciously over her legs. Although it was cold, she didn’t mind it; his attentions more than made up for the momentary chill.
    “And you have the most wonderful skin,” he countered, as he dropped her shoes to the floor, and then finished sliding off her stockings. He bent and kissed the arches of her feet, then moved up onto the bed and resumed his task of loosening her stays, allowing himself to be enveloped in the folds of her robe as he did.
    She sighed, contentment and regret in the sound. “I wish I could …” Words faded as she felt his small hands on her breasts. She reached languorously to embrace him, her eyes dreamy, her breathing slow and deep. This was what she needed, she realized, and returned his kisses with her own, feeling her ardor stir and commence to unfurl