Elizabeth Elliott Read Online Free PDF

he heard was his own as he pulled her closer. Then he wanted to look at her.
    He propped himself up on one elbow, amazed that it required such an effort and disconcerted that the room felt unsteady, as if they were on the rolling deck of a ship. He focused on Claudia’s face easily enough. She was asleep. Her thick lashes looked like delicate fans against her cheeks, and he reached for her face with an unsteady hand. Soft as the petals of a rose. His fingers trailed down her neck so clumsily that he ventured no farther than her shoulder. He wanted toimpress her with his lovemaking, seduce her with the skills he’d learned through years of experience, yet his body wouldn’t cooperate with his mind. Christ’s bones. She wasn’t even awake.
    “Claudia.”
    Her lashes fluttered as if she, too, had trouble opening her eyes. She moved closer to him and rubbed her face against his chest as a small kitten might. “Mm.”
    The affectionate movement had an immediate affect. Heat flooded through him, lust tempered by a wave of tenderness. “Claudia, wake. Up,” he added, as an afterthought. Nothing he tried seemed to work quite right in this dream.
    He pushed that worry aside when he felt her turn in his arms. Her eyes were luminous as she looked up at him, so green that the pupils were no more than small pinpoints of light in the center of priceless emeralds. A fanciful thought, but he imagined he could glimpse her soul in those eyes as well. She was a creature of the shadows at Lonsdale, always on the fringe of a crowd, lingering in doorways and beneath darkened arches, just out of reach and all but out of sight. He would bring her into the sunlight again, draw her forward into his life as effortlessly as he drew her into his arms tonight. He would make her smile.
    His finger traced the outline of her lips, but they did not curve into the expression he wanted to see. He would have to work harder for that reward. His fingertips trailed across her cheek and he marveled at the softness of her skin, even as he made an unsettling observation. She looked serene, but she didn’t look happy. He vowed to fill her life with smiles.
    He pressed his lips against her forehead to seal his vow. She was still staring at him when he drew back. She lifted her hand and touched his mouth, a slow, steady exploration, as if she wanted to memorize the shape of it. Her fingertips moved to the rough surface of his cheek and her nails made a small scratching sound against the stubble. He couldn’t breathe.
    Nay, he’d forgotten to breathe. He filled his lungs with air, then slowly released it. Her delicate brows drew together,as if she were puzzled by his reaction to her touch. He turned his head and captured one of her fingertips between his lips for a provocative kiss. Her eyes widened with surprise as she drew her own deep breath.
    He caught her hand before she could pull it away and turned the palm toward him to brush feathery kisses along the sensitive skin, the bones of her wrist small and fragile in his big hand. He brushed his thumb across the area where the skin moved in a steady reflection of her heartbeat, fascinated for some reason by the rhythm. He kissed her wrist again and flicked his tongue across the pulse point, pleased by the shudder he felt run through her. Next he pressed her palm against the center of his chest to let her feel the erratic beat of his own heart, then leaned down to capture her lips for a long, deep kiss.
    The kiss started out just fine, but something did not feel right. She didn’t respond as she had in the gardens. Her lips became lifeless, passionless. He lifted his head and saw that her eyes were closed again. She had fallen asleep, the stubborn wench. This was his dream. She could at least cooperate.
    Another thought made him frown. Perhaps he couldn’t make love to a dream. The blood pounded in his ears so hard that he couldn’t concentrate. He closed his eyes and tried to gather his muddled senses. A