Merlyn's Magic by Carole Mortimer Page A

and
gasp while remaining a prisoner to the onslaught.
    She moaned her protest as that mouth left her, her moan
turning to a ragged gasp as a knowing hand took over that rhythm at the
same time as that mouth tormented her nipple.
    The double attack on her senses made her strain into that
hand, wanting more, wanting— Her gossamer moistness closed
readily about the maleness that entered her, her back arching to match
the fierceness of the thrusts.
    She could feel the excitement building within her, could
feel her release was imminent, felt herself filled with liquid warmth
as the sun, the moon and the stars all exploded together inside her
body, the sound of harsh breathing mingling with her own as that mouth
finally left its caressing of her breast.
    Her body felt cold at the removal of those lips, shivering
as her thighs knew the same chill before the warm blankets once again
became her cover. She reached out for the heat that was being denied
her, only to feel it elude her before it slipped completely
away…

    Merlyn trembled as she awoke, never having known the
eroticism of such a dream before, knew that her body had become a slave
to that fulfilment even while she slept.
    Colour warmed her cheeks, her breathing shallow as she
acknowledged that. Even if the dreams had been a result of a return of
the fever they had still been so very real. How Rand would laugh if he
knew the hunger he had awakened in her! And how he would mock her if he
knew it had been Rand himself she had imagined making love to her.
    If
she had imagined it. It had seemed
so real…
    Anne had left the door to Merlyn's room unlocked since she
had become ill, so that she didn't need to disturb her every time she
came in, she had said. Suppose someone, some unknown someone had come
into her room while she slept and made love to her until she responded?
Which had taken all of two seconds!
    But who could it have been? Christopher? She didn't think
so—he had so many willing women in his life he would have no
need to make love to a sleeping woman. Then Rand? That idea was even
more unlikely!
    But it had
felt
like Rand. She had
responded to
Rand
. She had
called
him Rand.
    No, it couldn't have been. The man who made love to her
had been a gentle lover, intent only on arousing her until she attained
release. Rand certainly hadn't given the impression of those gentle
feelings towards her the last time they spoke together. But if it
hadn't been a dream—although she was fervently beginning to hope it
had
been—and there really had been a
man, then he had made love to her; no one in their right mind could
ever call it rape.
    Her eyes widened apprehensively as the door opened and
Christopher came in, a jubilant expression on his face, seeming not to
notice as she dived back beneath the bedclothes to hide her nakedness.
Merlyn paled as she saw the nightgown she had worn to go to bed in
earlier lying on the floor beside her.
    'Ah, you're awake at last,' Christopher exclaimed
excitedly. 'You—'
    'What do you mean, "at last"?' she questioned warily,
swallowing hard, her nakedness now when she had gone to bed in a
nightgown putting a completely different light on her 'dream'. It had
happened!
    'I looked in on you earlier,' he dismissed. 'You
were—'
    'You did?' she pounced sharply. Oh my God, it
had
been Christopher!
    He nodded impatiently. 'You were sleeping like a
baby—'
    'I was?' Her voice was doubtful.
    'You were,' he confirmed with an angry frown. 'Would you
mind letting me complete a sentence every now and again, I have
something important to say!'
    Oh no! Merlyn closed her eyes as giddiness washed over her.
    'It's fantastic! Wonderful—'
    'It is?' She opened her eyes to look at him uncertainly,
wondering how she could tell him she had been responding to another man
and not him at all. 'Christopher—'
    'Merlyn!' He glared her into silence. 'And you told me you
hadn't used your feminine charms on him,' he chastised.
    Her expression sharpened suspiciously.