"Molly's Place? That's a new dining house, isn't it?" Hunter sat on the edge of the bed. He twisted his neck, testing the limit of his pain.
"That it is, but there are a few bedrooms up here. You rest and I'll go get Abram." Luke moved toward the door.
"How'd you know about Abram?" Hunter asked, the cold, steel gray of caution touching his eyes.
"Molly told me to go fetch him," Luke said as he opened the door and vanished into the darkened hall.
Hunter tried to clear his buzzing head. He'd heard of a prostitute named Molly opening an eating place, but he was sure he'd never met the lady. How could she know about him and Abram?
Hunter sat in the darkness thinking over the recent strange events and wishing he'd gone to bed and ignored the fateful note last night. One good thing had come from it-he wouldn't marry Jennifer. Her voice was still ringing in his ears. She'd said every hateful thing she could think of to him, but the announcement that his touch made her freeze bothered him the most.
Smiling, he remembered how she'd reacted when he told her that he knew all about Richard. Poor, whimpering Richard, Hunter thought. I'd never beg my way into a woman's bed. How could Jennifer prefer Richard to him? How could she say he was void of passion and Richard set her afire? Hunter shook his head. Her choice hurt his pride more than his heart. He'd known Jennifer for most of his life and thought she knew him better than any other woman. It hurt to know she was only interested in his money.
He held his throbbing head in his hands and wished he'd told Jennifer of the woman in his mind who'd set his blood on fire and warmed his heart as no other woman could ever do. How would she have reacted if she'd known he also cared for another?
As Hunter sat in the darkness a melody drifted through the night to him. A melody so soft, he could barely hear it above the rain tapping on the windows. Curiosity drove him to search for the sound. The door by the windows opened into a small office. Lightning lit the room long enough for him to cross to a half-opened door directly across the office.
Hunter froze in the door frame at the sight before him. A vision purer than any dream filled his eyes with unbearable beauty. His angel sat on the floor beside a newly kindled fire. She was slowly, almost absentmindedly, brushing her long black hair. The silken strands billowed around her like a black cape, in sharp contrast to her white cotton gown. He watched the vision study the firelight, unaware of how beautifully the lights danced across her skin and set fiery highlights in her black curls. He was afraid to move, for fear she might once again vanish. He'd never seen her so clearly, and from this dream he never wanted to awaken.
The music box stopped playing and his angel turned toward him. As she saw him she smiled, as if she thought him only a figment of her imagination. As though she'd thought of him coming to her many times and now he finally had.
Moving slowly toward her, he knelt beside her on the rug and gently lifted her face in his hands. Her skin was as warm and velvety soft as he remembered. He could hardly believe she was real, not a dream. He drank in her huge brown eyes, her creamy skin, her slightly pointed nose. Moving his thumb slowly across her cheek, he touched her lips. The angel he'd seen was flesh in his hands and as real to his touch as she had been the night before. Only now he could see her, every perfect part of her.
Unable to restrain himself, even as he saw the puzzlement in her eyes, Hunter bent forward and lightly touched her lips with his own.
"Hunter?" she whispered. "How…"
"Yes, angel." His words caressed her ear as his arms encircled her and drew her up to her knees.
"Hunter, what-" She couldn't finish, for his lips were smothering her words. He was drowning in a new ocean of feeling. Each time they touched, the need between them had grown until now all his world was here with her this moment.
"Don't talk," he whispered. "Just let me hold you before the world finds us again and I must return to sanity."
Tears ran down her cheeks, spilling against his throat and shoulder. His face moved against her hair as he felt its warm silkiness. Her heart pounded beneath her breasts, keeping rhythm with his own. There would be time for questions later; now all he needed, all he wanted, was in his arms.
She pulled her head back, looking full into his face. "This is no dream," she whispered in her Southern voice, which reminded him of all the gentleness of his mother. Raising her hand, she touched his cheek and jaw-line and he wanted to laugh with pure joy. The firelight danced in her warm eyes and set aflame his need.
Hunter bent and kissed Perry deeper than before, his mouth parting her lips. As the kiss lingered, he felt her body mold against him with its own longing.
The flame traveled down her face, burning her cheeks as it moved to her breasts. She ached with desire for him. She spread her hands into his hair and laughed with ecstasy. How many hundreds of times had she longed to touch him? Now he was beside her. "It's not a dream," she whispered again, finally glad he could know she was real.
Hunter's hands moved slowly up and down her back, sending through her a pleasure so great, she feared she might explode from it. With each stroke Hunter's hands went lower, until they covered her hips with fire. His muscular body molded into her softness and Perry felt the need of his manhood press against her stomach.
She sensed Hunter pulling her to him as his hands rested on her hips. She knew nothing of lovemaking, but she knew she wanted him. She wanted him in the very depth of her being. Her body pressed instinctively against him, drawn to the warmth of his body.
Putting his hands on her shoulders, he pushed her a few inches from him. "I'll love you on this rug if you like, but we'd be more comfortable in bed." Passion had made his voice low, and she found it both exciting and frightening. She shivered as he stood and pulled her up into his arms.
Her mind refused to think rationally. For one moment in time she wanted to float on the passions of her dreams. Closing her eyes, she rested her hand on his shoulder as he played with the buttons of her nightgown. They gave willingly to Hunter's touch, as willingly as she came to him.
She heard his sharp intake of breath as he opened her gown. Looking up, she saw the fire of his desire in his smoldering gray eyes.
He reached down, cupping one breast lovingly in his hand. "My God, how can one woman be so beautiful? My mind tells me I'm awake, yet my eyes tell me I'm dreaming. I can still hardly believe you've been so near and I thought you were only a dream." He bent and kissed each breast before returning to Perry's lips with a demanding kiss.
She heard his low moan as his tongue circled her lips and tasted her mouth. Perry opened to him as a flower opens to the sun. His kiss grew more demanding as she pressed against him, wanting to melt into him. Wanting to be as much a part of him physically as she had been emotionally for every moment since they'd met.
Hunter lifted her into his arms and walked the few steps to her bed. He carefully laid her down, as though she were a priceless doll. "Now isn't that better than the floor, Molly," he said as he began unbuttoning his shirt, never taking his eyes from her.
Perry raised on her elbow, a look of worry on her face. "My name's not Molly," she began. Why would he call her by another name?
"Now there's no need to play coy. I've figured it all out. It doesn't matter to me how you earned your living during the war. I want you so much, I'm willing to pay whatever you ask. Lord knows how you can keep those innocent eyes." He continued undressing. "I met a poor farm girl with eyes like yours once. Until a few minutes ago I thought you were only a fantasy. When I stepped to your door and saw my angel sitting before me, I could not believe you were real. So name your fee, lady, it's yours."