LAURIE

Jason and Laurie walked for a little while in the moonlight, keeping an amiable silence between them. Jason had woven his fingers with hers together so that their hands lightly swung between them. Laurie liked the closeness of the display, the intimacy, yet it had an air of playfulness about it. He glanced down to smile at her, and her breath caught in her throat.

"What are you thinking?" she asked.

"Oh. Ah, nothing particularly. Just how pretty you were tonight. Pretty song too."

Laurie couldn't decide what to feel, startled by his sudden compliment. She responded with a tiny nod and hid under her eyelashes. "I wasn't sure if you liked it," she admitted.

"Why wouldn't I?"

"You looked sad during part of it. I didn't understand why."

Jason paused, pulling her back just a little. While he still held her hand, Jason caressed her cheek with the other. "Do you really feel that way? That I'll break your heart?"

Laurie smiled shyly, barely able to look at him. "Isn't that what men do? Break a woman's heart, only to mend it later? I imagine if you could see the condition of a woman's soul, it would be patched and mended many times over."

"Hmm. I suppose your right, though I would add a man doesn't always mean to hurt anyone. He does what he feels he must."

"Yes, I suppose that's true. Sometimes."

"Well, not every man is good, Laurie. Don't judge us all by your first husband. I wonder sometimes if he was a man at all."

She put her head against his chest so he wouldn't see the shame she felt. She couldn't help it. Sometimes the distinction between Jason and Sherman was stark, and sometimes she couldn't see the subtle changes that made all the difference.

"So what can a man do if he finds he's done wrong?"

"I suppose different things," said Laurie, pulling away to walk again. "Some bring presents if that works. You know, flowers and things. And some might hold her close, I suppose. Or a man might say pretty words, although I would think they would have to be something meaningful to do any real mending."

Jason looked up at the night sky. "I would think so."

Laurie quieted while they walked. She couldn't remember the last time she'd felt so nervous, as if they were young lovers. As if she had let him pursue her, and after a long summer of hints, had allowed him to walk her home from school, plotting to entice him to steal a kiss. She had a feeling he had seen her disappointment when he told Joshua he was going back up to camp, but she couldn't begrudge him. It wasn't his fault. He cleared his throat, and when she glanced at him, he chuckled nervously.

"So, what do I have to do to mend yours?"

"Mend my what?"

"Your heart," he answered. An owl hooted somewhere, and he put a protective hand on her elbow. "How do I fix it, Laurie?"

"Oh..."

They had arrived at the cabin, and Jason held her arm as she ascended the few steps they had. He stood with one foot on the bottom step, the other on the step above it. Laurie turned to answer him and realized she was finally eye level with him. He was studying her with concern etched across his face. She ran her thumb across his cheek, wishing she could help him not worry so much.

"I don't need any mending," she whispered.

"What about Hannah? You're still upset about her, aren't you?"

"Hannah?" Laurie asked, her full voice sounding odd to herself in the quiet night. She shook her head. "Jason, I invited her tonight."

"You did?"

"Yes."

"What the devil would you do that for?!"

"Jason!"

"Well, dammit, woman! That makes about as much sense as a man poking a bear!"

She tilted her head to the side. "I invited her because I wanted to show her there are no hard feelings."

"And you honestly thought she'd come?"

Laurie looked past his shoulder into the night and lifted her shoulders. "Not really, but I thought we could at least extend the olive branch." She heard the edge in her own voice and winced. She could tell they were close to ruining an enjoyable evening.

He sighed and surprised her by putting his hands on her hips, giving them a little tug. Taking the hint, she put her arms around his neck and leaned forward so he could kiss her, and closed her eyes when they connected. Her heart did a little flip, and she hoped they had salvaged the evening.

"Perfect height," he teased when they released each other.

"Mm-hmm."

He climbed the steps and stood directly next to her, looking at the door. "And I suppose you're right, but I confess, I'm glad she didn't come."

"Why?"

"Oh, I suppose I like to live my life a little more quietly than you."

His light tone suggested he was teasing, but she knew better. "I wouldn't have fought with her. Not at your party."

She couldn't help herself. She was fidgeting with her fingers again. He took both her hands into his and kissed her cheek. "I know you wouldn't have. Come on, I'll turn a lamp on for you before I go."

He opened the door and stepped inside. Before she could follow he grabbed her arm and acted as if he were throwing himself in front of her. She cried out in surprise, gaping at the empty room past his arm. Except for a lamp's low light illuminating rose petals strewn everywhere, there was nothing.

"Angels in heaven, someone murdered a rose. Several roses, from the looks of it."

Laurie burst out giggling and leaned her head against his arm, still clutching her chest. It was so silly, such a young man thing to do, but it endeared him to her all the same. Grinning, he escorted her into the room and made the lamp burn brighter.

"I didn't know he was going to do this," she said, shaking her head.

"Who?"

"Jeremy. You didn't notice he wasn't with Candy when she said goodnight to us?"

"Ah, I guess I figured he'd already headed to the flume."

"Oh. I think Joshua said he'd leave for the mountain after he finished here. I just thought he was going to—"

She knew she was blushing. Joshua had told her earlier about his and Jeremy's need to leave bold hints to get Jason to the party. He had even tried to give her some pointers for seducing Jason while they were dancing, and she knew it wasn't just him that had turned red with his efforts. Right now it didn't appear she needed them. In the dim lamplight, her husband was staring at her again with that hungry look.

"What are you staring at?" she asked, hoping he would say something that would change his mind to stay.

"Hmm?" He shook his head and blinked. "Your dress. It looks less red. More the color of wine."

"Oh." Her eyes flitted to the kitchen door, desperately seeking to hide her disappointment. "Speaking of, there's a bottle in the kitchen. Did you want me to fix you something to eat before you go? I mean, I know your brothers fed you before you left camp, but that was hours ago."

He didn't answer her. Instead, he continued to stare.

"Jason?"

"Yeah, that would be nice," he answered softly. "Can I ask you something?"

Laurie smiled cautiously. "Yes?"

"How did you—"

"I don't know where Jeremy got these. I mean, there were a few wild rose bushes on the way to camp, but he must have found more. He was just supposed to put the wine glasses and a bottle here on the table. I was going to do it before I left, but... oh, it's just as well he forgot. You don't have time for it."

"I was going to ask you how you got those burn marks."

Laurie's hand immediately went to her chest, visions of torture threatening to crowd her mind. "Burn marks?"

"Above your..." he said, his finger making little circular motions as he pointed, "Right above your, uh, on your chest. I've often wondered."

Laurie bit her lip hard. Not now, she told herself sternly, feeling the floor give way to a fresh wave of images in her mind. She didn't want this. No, no, no, NO! She took a few deep breaths and tore at her hands before she answered, their pain barely keeping her in the present. "Well, I—oh, it's been a lovely evening, Jason. And the memory isn't a pleasant one. Do you think, um, honestly, I'd rather talk about it tomorrow... if—if that's alright?"

"I understand," he murmured. "I shouldn't have asked."

Laurie pressed her lips together as he stepped closer. He was looking right at them. She hadn't considered her dress might move over enough to expose the scars. She had never worn it dancing before. Her fingers brushed the area above her right breast.

"I'm sorry. It's just you were so beautiful tonight. Radiant, even. And I don't think I've ever stared at you so much. It made me curious. Whatever happened, it's your story to tell. When you're ready."

"Thank you."

She turned toward the kitchen, but guilt made her still her steps. Naturally, he's curious! How could she ever hope for him to open up to her if she wouldn't open up to him? Especially when it was uncomfortable. She closed her eyes and blew out her breath, grateful to him. He was being so patient, so kind. She needed to share something with him, no matter the cruel memories.

She whirled and wrapped her arms around his waist. Laurie felt Jason stiffen, and automatically put his hand on her back, holding her close. "There was a man in San Francisco. He wanted to hurt me, so he did. He burned me with a plug of tobacco. It wasn't anyone close to me, just someone that wanted to do me harm." She shrugged, even though she was trembling. "It happens sometimes to people on the stage. Do you want to know more?"

He brushed a stray hair out of her face. "No."

"Okay." She pulled away and tried to smile for him. "I'm going to go make you a sandwich."

"I'll never mention it again."

Another thought zinged through Laurie's mind. "Do they bother you?"

Jason scanned her body, and she held her breath, waiting for the answer. It wasn't as though she could make them go away, and Jason wasn't cruel. It was hard enough to know they were there, let alone see them, which was why she never looked at herself until they were covered, at least by her underclothes. But he had seen them their first time he took his marital rights, and when she undressed to bathe. And now the red dress apparently hadn't given her enough cover. It wasn't Laurie that had to look at them, and the scrutiny he had her under made her squirm.

"No," he said at last. "The scars don't bother me."

Laurie's body relaxed. "I'm glad. Actually, I don't even see them anymore. I'll, um, I'll get that sandwich."

She had difficulty forcing herself to walk to the kitchen. She leaned against the table, with her palms flat against the top of it, and breathed in and out as though she had run the entire way to Jason's camp. She absently touched the markings. Two burns, two fires. She'd always wondered if there was a correlation. If Sherman was alive...

Stop it, she scolded herself. She was with Jason now, and there wasn't any fear of the man in the mask hurting her. Richard had insisted she had burned herself in a moment of insanity. A danger to herself is what he had told the judge. And who knew? He might have been right. But after her time at the logging camp, she was more inclined to believe Richard was wrong. And despite the mysterious appearance of the man that had hurt Jeremy at camp, living with Jason gave her a sense of safety she'd never felt before. Jason would protect her, and would never hurt her himself. Not physically, at least. She still wasn't sure about her heart.

She stood straight and forced herself to focus on her task. She zipped through the larder and cut two large slabs of bread and a hunk of smoked venison. She threw the sandwich together and after cutting it in half, put it in the lunch tin she often filled for him. Laurie grabbed the bottle of wine and two glasses, hoping to start their own birthday drink tradition, and reentered the living area to find Jason had retreated into the bedroom. She closed her eyes and wished he hadn't done that. The brothers had conspired with Lottie, convincing Laurie that her husband was ready. If Jeremy had already gone to such lengths in the big room, she wasn't so sure about what he might have done in there.

She put the lunch tin and wine with the glasses on the table and walked into the open door. There were lit candles winking all over her vanity, the nightstand, and even on the windowsill, wax already pooling where they dripped. Rose petals were sprinkled on the floor and over the bed, and Jason stood at the foot of it, holding her sheer nightgown. He ran his large thumb over the delicate embroidery.

"Where did you get that?" Laurie asked from the door.

"It was on the bed," he said, continuing to examine the gown.

She swore softly and saw his brow lift. She rolled her eyes at herself and forced herself to step further into the room. "Jeremy must have laid it out. I promise this was not what I had planned."

"But you bought it."

"Yes, out of—oh, I don't know what I was feeling. Jealousy? Spite? I know I was angry. And frustrated. Frustrated and angry."

"Hannah," he guessed.

"She was part of it. I bought it right after you had me witness your breakup. I saw it in a catalog during the bazaar, and I... well, I was just mad. I marched myself right over to Ben's and bought it. I'm sorry."

"Oh, well, it's very pretty."

"You said the same thing about this dress."

Jason squashed his lips together before answering. "I hope you never sing in front of Seattle in this."

That brought a smile to her face. She touched his arm, and he held out the gown to her.

"Put it on."

"Oh no," she said, backing away. "I—Jason, that's for a special night."

"Obviously," he said, peering at her through the thin fabric.

She felt fresh flames in her cheeks.

"It is my birthday."

"Yes, but, but..."

"And I can think of no better gift to unwrap," he continued, a teasing note in his voice, "than you, in nothing but your birthday suit under this."

Every muscle in her body froze. She had wanted this. Schemed for it, worked for it, even flirted for it. Here he was, acting exactly as she had hoped, and now she was panicking? She clamped her jaw down and ground her teeth.

He draped the gown over her arm and kissed her on the nose. "I'll be right outside," he murmured, his voice warm and suggestive.

"You're wicked," she whispered back.

"Christ died for the sinner, darling. I'm in church almost every week."

JASON

Jason paced for a few moments and took his suit coat off to hang on the back of a chair. He slipped the black ribbon from around his neck and undid the first two buttons of his shirt. Then he poured them both a glass of wine. He had just taken a sip when the door opened. He turned and openly gaped, his manners forgotten.

Laurie had taken her hair down, a white ribbon holding her hair in place. It gave her the illusion of innocence. Her cheeks were the color of fresh apples, her lips a deeper shade of pink than the roses on the bed, moisture clinging to them like morning dew on a spring leaf. Her collarbone and arms were bare. Just a scant slip of material covered her shoulders, and when his eyes traveled down, he noticed the sheer fabric was tight around her chest and hips but had enough substance to leave her pertinent parts in just enough shadow to make him catch his breath. The gown had embroidery stitched on the bottom to give the impression of tendrils of ribbon running up her legs toward a much more mysterious part of her body.

"Well?" she asked, turning fully around.

"That... that is... stunning."

She observed him with a critical eye. "It's not exactly proper woman attire."

"Well, you're a proper woman."

"But you're not a proper man."

Jason put his hands on his hips. Laurie's tone had been direct, even though she said the words quietly. "You want to explain that?"

She took her glass of wine off the table and swallowed a sip before answering. "I only meant you don't want a proper woman."

"The hell I don't."

"The hell you do!" she shot back, taking him by surprise. "If I had worn something lacy and high collared and acted prim and proper tonight, we wouldn't be having this conversation."

"That might not be a bad thing."

"Yes, it would. Because I wanted you to know that, that my gift to you had nothing to do with the party tonight. Not the dress, the roses, wine, or even this," she said, gesturing toward her gown. "It's not about any of those things. Because my gift to you is... myself. This? This is the sort of gown a... a..."

"Fancy lady," Jason supplied.

"Yes, thank you. A fancy lady would wear. The nuns..."

"Those nuns can go to the devil."

"Jason!"

He folded his arms and glowered at her.

"The nuns taught us to always be proper."

Jason snorted. "Fine thing, people preaching propriety and they can't be decent themselves."

"Always," she continued as if he hadn't spoken. "That includes when we are alone with our husbands. Especially then, because how we conducted ourselves is how our husbands would respect or disrespect us. Always submit, but never entice—But you? You don't want that sort of wife. You're too Scottish."

"I'm too what?"

"Too Scottish! You, you want... oh!" Laurie threw her hands up, jiggling a little as she did so.

Jason rubbed his eyes. Whatever she was talking about, it was getting late, so the decision to stay the night or leave was close to being made for him, and if he stayed, there was no way on Earth he was going to sleep next to her without something happening. The thought of her crying again set his teeth on edge.

"What I mean is, you're raw. Beautifully, perfectly raw. You say what you mean and mean what you say. Well, to me, anyway. You'll hide me away to protect me, yet you like to show me off. You like to hear the comments and as long as they're not too forward, you might even toast the man that said it."

"Laurie—"

"And that's fine. It's, well, you're everything I wanted as a child."

"A child?"

"Yes." His eyebrow came up, and she shook her head violently. "No. No, no, that's not what I mean."

"Darling, you're confusing me."

"I know... Argh!" She breathed deeply and pushed her fist against her belly, calming herself. She straightened and when she spoke again, her voice held more confidence. "What I mean is, Kenna and I used to talk about the kind of husbands we wanted. Remember my diary?"

He nodded, trying to reason her thoughts out.

"You are exactly the type of man I dreamed of. A man who could drink and not get drunk."

"Well, enough booze and any man—"

"And he had to be tall. Because I wanted tall sons."

"Tall sons." She had walked toward him, and something about the way her hips swayed made him swallow.

"Mm-hmm. Tall, sturdy sons, just like their father. And I wanted a man that prayed with me. A man who..."

"Laurie, I'm not that relig—"

"... made me feel safe. A man I could trust."

She was inches from him, all he had to do was reach out and take her hand, but Jason found he couldn't look her in the eye. Not after that last line.

He heard her take in a deep breath. "A man I can forgive."

"Am I?" he asked, watching her take his hand. "Am I all that for you?"

"And more," she whispered.

He searched her face and found her searching his in return. He leaned over, and she raised herself on her tiptoes to meet him in a gentle kiss.

"You told me earlier this was going anywhere I wanted," he said, running his hand through her hair, mesmerized by the blonde strands sliding between his fingers. In the lamplight, they looked like honey spun into gold.

"I know. It's your birthday."

"Well, what I want is, um..." He cleared his throat, and then met her eyes. In the flickering lamplight, they were pools of glittering green.

"It's okay. I'm ready," she whispered, letting go of his hand to run her hands over his chest.

The filmy fabric felt soft around her waist, and he had to make an effort to concentrate. "Are you? You're sure?"

"Yes," she said, her voice final.

Jason unconsciously put his arm around her as she laid her head against his chest, her hand resting on his heart. He nestled his head on top of hers, and they were still for a moment before Jason's voice dropped into a deeper tone. "Do you understand what that means?"

"Yes."

Feeling wetness through his shirt, he pulled back to see the tears in her eyes. "There they are again," he muttered. "Really, Laurie, was it so terrible?"

"It wasn't you, Jason."

"Darling, when a man makes love to a woman, he doesn't want to find her silently crying afterward! I know you said I didn't hurt you, but if you liked, uh, were as comfortable as you said you were, then I'm not sure if you meant it. I can't make love to you when you feel this way."

"I thought you didn't touch me because you were still angry with me for getting you mixed up in a marriage you didn't want."

His arm jerked, and he slowly shook his head. "Far from it," he said, his voice husky with a mixture of sadness, tenderness, and desire. He nuzzled her hair with his nose and breathed her soft, flowery scent. "I think about you every night."

She tilted her head back and seemed to brighten a little as he leaned in to give her another tender kiss. "You're not the only one thinking things," she said, stroking his arm through his sleeve.

"Then help me understand," he said, his voice soft. "I'm still not sure what happened our first time, and it makes me nervous. Tell me more about it."

Her eyes flitted back and forth for a moment, watching him. His grip tightened, just ever so slightly. He dreaded knowing the horrors she had endured, but for some stupid reason, he had to get this behind him before he could really invest himself. Heaven help him if it ruined what he'd built up in his mind over the last few hours, but the times they had attempted to talk about it hadn't satisfied him. It was important.

"Sherman wasn't a man, not like you," she finally blurted out. "And he wasn't—" She stopped to take a deep breath before continuing. "Our first time, you and me... it wasn't awful, Jason, but definitely overwhelming. Strangers, married? Doing... that?" She shook her head as if trying to believe the unbelievable. "But I understood. Men have needs. In my own way, I needed it to happen too, you see, because... oh, it's just what I knew I was expected to do, I guess. I had prepared all day for it, and if we hadn't, it would have devastated me. I don't think I would have been comfortable not doing my duty and all. But I didn't think a man could be so kind. The way you led us up to it, brushing my hair, talking to me before taking me to your bed. It was nice. It was as though you were soothing me, helping me to relax. I appreciated the wine, truly I did. I needed it." She shrugged one shoulder. "You weren't at all what I had expected. Sherman would have... what he did..."

She was shaking her head again, tears still streaming down her face. Instinctively he wanted to help her, to comfort her as he'd always done with women before, telling her it didn't matter. But this time he held back, wanting to hear. He had to understand. This mattered very much. It mattered more than anything else they had discussed before.

She coughed and looking at the ground as though she were making some terrible confession and said, "I moaned."

He scrunched his brow together as he tried to imagine what that had to do with anything.

She peeked at him through her hair and her manner grew agitated. "The way you touched me. I moaned, and you were too polite to say anything, but I—I want you to know, I know better. I know it's distasteful for a woman to show... to react, I mean. I suppose you caught me off guard, or maybe it was the wine."

Jason straightened, his confusion melting into disbelief.

"I know we shouldn't even be having this conversation," she went on as if blindly looking for a way to fix what she had just said. "That's why I tried to hide the crying because if you saw me then you would want to talk about things and that's not..." Her eyes lit on his face for an instant, then she lowered them, finishing her sentence. "I know men don't want to talk about... you know."

"So, if I understand you correctly, you cried our first night together because I wasn't the monster your first husband was. Because you felt pleasure."

"Somewhat," she said. Her voice was far away, a haunting of her true self, and she wiped her tears away. "And somewhat because I had promised myself I would never be at a man's mercy like that again. He hurt me, Jason. Over and over, there was no end to the pain. When he went to war, the possibility of his return kept me on edge. Even after he died, even now, he's still there. Somehow, sometimes more than a memory. I still hear him at night when you aren't here! So I had sworn I'd never remarry and yet, there I was. Married. Again. A whole other man, and we'd only just met, not even that really, and suddenly I found myself feeling and behaving in a carnal, unrighteous..."

"Stop."

Laurie winced at his command. He lifted her chin gently with his thumb and forefinger.

"There is nothing carnal or unrighteous about finding pleasure in each other. It says so, right there in the Bible. Haven't you read Solomon's song?"

"But Sister Agnes said..."

"Oh, hang Sister Agnes and the broom she flew in on!" Jason said, not bothering to hide his irritation. "And hang your late husband too. If he were still alive, I'd have him hanged for the crimes he committed against you. As for the other... Good Lord, woman! It's no wonder you didn't want to remarry. What pleasure, what enjoyment is there in marriage if not to be intimate with one another? The most precious and the most religious covenant of all is the giving of one's self to the other. Why would a nun tell you not to?"

"No, she didn't say that," Laurie corrected him. "What she said was..." she hesitated and looked away. When she looked back, there were tears in her eyes. "She said that men prefer chaste women who don't give in to their baser feelings. That way he knows he's married a woman of God."

"That's the biggest bunch of... thank heavens I'm not Catholic!" Jason boomed, throwing his hands in the air. Laurie took a step back, her eyes wide, but he didn't care. What kind of education were these schools teaching young women? With fury he continued, "It's no wonder so many married men show up in the saloons willing to pay for—All that is holy!" he swore, grateful he caught himself before using the same words he would normally use at camp. "Telling a woman her man prefers a cold body in bed in the name of God? That's the evilest thing I've heard in... in..."

He stopped his tirade long enough to notice his wife, who stood still, her hands twisting and pulling at themselves. He took a deep breath, and putting his hands on his hips, he shifted his weight before he spoke in calmer tones. "I'm sorry. You startled me."

"Yes, I can see that I did."

Jason licked his lips and looked away for a moment.

She waited, not moving.

"Laurie."

"Mm?"

He gestured for her to come to him. When she reached him, he touched her cheek. "I'm not Catholic," he said, somberly.

A smile broke out on her face. Her familiar mask tried to smooth it over, but it gave him immense satisfaction to see her fail. "Yes, I know."

"And that's not normal, uh, practice or understanding of the Catholics I've known, either," he said, still serious. "Of course, most Catholics I know are loggers or Clancey. But I know none of them would want a wife that didn't respond to their touch, either."

"I see," she said, the smile fading. "Maybe I misunderstood."

Jason watched her struggle and felt his resolve cave. "And... well, you said you wanted one religion under our one roof. Correct?" He watched her mouth turn into a frown as she worked to follow his thoughts before answering.

"Correct."

He hated to do it, but it seemed important to her. He would just have to have faith that true conversion would come. He held her face with his hands, his thumbs tracing her cheekbones while he searched her face. She was examining him, too. He dipped his head down and kissed her lightly, followed by another kiss of longing.

"More," she breathed.

Jason parted his lips, and she followed his lead, their kiss taking on a slow, passionate rhythm. He let go of her face to pull her closer and shivered when she ran her hands up his chest on their way to link behind his neck. She tasted sweet, reminding him of the punch she hadn't drunk because she wanted to remember tonight. Memories of their first night together boiled to the surface, bringing with them a sudden surge of anticipation flowing through his veins. Within moments he was enjoying the sweet softness of her gown over her breast with one hand while he used his other to crush her against his body. He nipped her lower lip as he broke free to kiss her cheek, her ear, her neck, and murmured against her skin, "In our religion, we enjoy each other. Enjoy, darling, not repress."

"I see," she whispered back. "Maybe I—maybe we should practice being Presbyterian more often."

Jason's head came up so fast he almost hit her in the nose. After he stared at her for a few heartbeats he chuckled. She looked a little dazed. "You are so bold."

Laurie grinned while she traced his jaw and peeking through her eyelashes said, "You keep saying that. Remember, I was a Scottish pauper before I was a proper lady."

Jason swore and picked her up in a swoop and carried her to the bedroom. "Thank God for the Scottish."

"Jason!" she said in a teasing reproof and giggled in his arms.

He kicked the door shut and squinted. The flames flickered lower in their wax encasing, but still illuminated the room with a warm glow that was brighter than their normal lamplight.

"I guess he thought better too much than too little," said Laurie, the giggle still in her voice.

A grin spread over his face. "I'll have to thank him." He met her eyes. "I intend to see everything."

Her smile encouraged him.

He lowered her to the bed and stripped himself of half his clothes and shoes, leaving him only in his trousers, and noticed her watching him with fascination, her eyes darkening. He dropped his belt, watching the fabric of her gown stretch tighter over her chest with her quick breaths, the promising shadows more prominent than ever. He swept his gaze over the rest of her and felt his pulse quicken. Enough talking.

Laurie reached to guide him as he lowered himself onto her and began another leisurely kiss. Her little moans and the way she moved under his touch gave him a more satisfactory pleasure than he'd ever found with another woman. The fabric moved like silk against her skin as he slid his hand down her side and over her hip. Her soft fingers trailed up his arms, traced his shoulders, and lightly massaged his back. He lost his concerns over her readiness with every sound and move she made. To hell with it. If she cried again, he'd hold her until she stopped.

"Now," he said, turning his attention to her gown with a last, quick kiss on her neck. "Let's unwrap my birthday present." He slid the sheer fabric over her shoulders, and they quickly immersed themselves in the discovery of one another.

He never thought to close the curtains.