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He pulled her to him, his mouth crashing down on hers with bruising force, invading her with his tongue as he backed her toward the bed.
It almost hurt, but she tasted his urgency, and heat and desire rose in her as sharp and strong.
He shoved a hand through her hair, loosened the pins and let them scatter atop the mattress and onto the floor, raked his fingers through the loose braids to free it around her shoulders, splayed his fingers over Накопительный электрический водонагреватель Atlantic Steatite PRO VM 100 N4 C(E) back, tugged at laces that held her jabot around her neck.
He tossed it aside, unbuttoned her blouse and peeled it down her arms, freed her mouth for a moment to regard the Flynt Waist beneath with less than enthusiastic scrutiny.
Heart hammering, she helped him untie the laces and stood silently when he slid it off her.
Virginia Brown has written more than fifty historical and contemporary romance novels.
Chapter Спрей PERFUME Deodorant Spray [Cotton Breeze] 100 мл San Diego, California—September 1889 "BETHANY!
Brasfield turned with an excited cry and called again.
Grumbling, "How can you find anything 5 all this clutter?
продолжить чтение fond smile curved her mouth as she approached her father without fur­ther mishap, and her gaze deepened with affection.
Reaching out, she smoothed back the thinning brown hair that straggled onto 5 forehead.
Look here at these figures in this ancient Spanish manuscript.
The professor had painstakingly removed centuries of grime to reveal bright colors beneath the layers of dirt, and she could barely make out what appeared to be a man in a feathered headdress holding a shield in one hand and arrows in another.
My interpretation must be correct.
Bethany, I believe that there truly is a lost city in Peru—the legendary Vilcapampa where the Inca warlords fled from the Spanish conquistadores.
Papa, you must practice tact on occa­sion if you expect to receive financial support from the university.
Private funds are much more lenient than those entrusted just by the взято отсюда />Morton claims he is unscrupulous when it comes to the acquisition of artifacts.
Dare you risk your spotless reputa­tion with a man such as him?
Her father was right.
Bentworth unreservedly granted him the rest of the funds for an expedition and even provided the name of a guide.
A man by the name of Trace Taylor was said to have come across the ruins of an 5 city on one of his forays into the jungles of Peru, вот Туалетная вода Hugo Boss Hugo XY тестер 100 мл (муж) правы.конкретно he now resided in the city of Lima.
Did her father really intend to pursue this?
It seemed unlikely that he would be able to realize his dream, but then, he had been studying the Incan civilization for as long as she could remember.
She closed the door behind her and returned to the small tiled veranda where she had been doing research of her own.
A stack of books stood beside the lounge on which she had been reclining, and she retrieved the top volume as she sank back onto the cushions.
An extended explora­tion of dense jungles and mountainous terrain?
She feared Papa was not physically up to it.
After all, her father was in his late fifties and was more accus­tomed to poring over illegible tablets brought back by the more intrepid than he 5-HTP, 100 мг, 60 вегетарианских капсул actually doing the field work himself.
No, it was his erratic health that held him back, and Bethany feared that 5 determination to do so now might cause him harm.
Her eyes softened, and she tugged 5 a thread of her hair, peered down at it, and decided she needed a shampoo.
Brown strands had lightened in the California sun lately since she could never remember to wear a hat.
It was her saving grace.
If not for her hair, and eyes that wavered between blue and violet, she would have long ago been relegated to the ugly side of plain.
As it was, she found herself still regarded as just plain.
Fair enough, she supposed.
She knew her limitations.
Life had https://chmall.ru/100/kaypro-krasitel-pryamogo-deystviya-kay-direct-pastel-rozoviy-100-ml.html her a hand that she finally accepted.
She would never be the petite blonde with gay laughter and sparkling chatter at a dance, but always be the painfully shy, too-tall, awkward woman in a corner.
Certain rewards enjoyed by some were not to be for her, so she had made a niche in which she was useful and content.
Being the daughter of Horatio T.
Brasfield, eminent professor of ancient cultures and archaeology, was a full-time job.
Sometimes 5 felt more like a caretaker than a daughter.
Bethany was the only person he would allow to bully him into resting for any length of time, and knowing this, she decided that if her father was so deter­mined to follow his dream of discovering the lost city of the Incas, she would have to go with him.
Smoothing folds of material over her knees, she closed the book she had been reading on great artists and gazed across the veranda at the slopes leading seaward.
Their house was small—as befitted a professor whose concerns lay more with scholarly pursuits than fame and fortune—perched on a California hillside overlooking the hills and ocean.
Seawinds brushed over her face, lifting her hair, ruffling the lacy collar of her blouse.
It was autumn, and the air was warm.
Stretching luxuriously, she tried to clear her mind of worries of past, pre­sent, and future, concentrating instead on enjoyment of the moment.
She closed her eyes against the bright press of sunlight, breathed deeply of the rich fragrance of ocean air sweeping over desert sage and manzanita on the hills, the silken touch of the wind across her bare arms 5 face.
It was almost as comfort­ing as a caress, she thought before she could stop herself, then her eyes 5 open and she sat upright.
There was no use in even contemplating such things.
And Stephen was gone now, had never really been hers in the first place.
Another 5 had captured his attention and love, and she was beauti­ful and available while Bethany was not.
So now here she was, twenty-five years old and left on the shelf.
Her lot читать больше life was to assist her father, to delve into history and leave lasting monuments of their work.
That would be her legacy.
After all, what was her small amount of talent compared to the mark her father would leave on history?
She could clean dirt-encrusted pottery without leaving so much as a mark on them, while others often shattered fragile pieces.
Sighing, Bethany tried not to recall how desperately she had once приведу ссылку to become an artist.
That had passed, of course, with time.
And he depended upon her to get things done, 5 care of matters that he could not 5 when he was so involved in such time-consuming research and study.
All his colleagues said that she was an excellent, capable worker, and how lucky Brasfield was to have her.
Whatever was she doing relaxing on the veranda when there was so much to do?
So many arrangements to make—passage on a steamer to Peru, supplies for an extended expedition, bearers to carry the supplies, and, of course, a guide.
What was his name?
Yes, that was it, Trace Taylor.
He deserved to succeed.
Chapter Two Lima, Peru—October 1889 "GET UP!
I have to talk to you!
She arched upward, bare breasts brushing his mouth, and he applied himself studiously to creating more of those lovely female moans that he appreciated.
Interruptions were to be ignored.
Cupping his hands on her breasts, he paid strict attention to his duty.
His hand slid be­tween them, and the pounding on the door resumed.
She grabbed his head with both hands, pushed at him, and he swore продолжить muttering that she should ignore it.
Enveloped in a sensual haze, he concen­trated on soft skin and willing female, ignored the pounding on the door and the edges of a headache beginning to encroach on the moment.
There was another ache that concerned him more, and he knew just what would ease it.
Pushing forward, nestled between warm thighs, he smiled as her hands moved to hold his head instead of push him away and renewed his efforts.
Tantalizingly close, he had just reached the sanctuary he sought when the ham­mering reverberated through the room as if the door were being struck by a battering ram.
He watched with resignation as she stepped into her dress, grabbed a warm serape to throw over her voluptu­ous body, and marched to the door.
It was briefly blotted out by her 5 and the entrance of Gil Fortune, a man he had liked up until this moment.
He lay there in the temporary absence of light while he waited for at least one of the throbbing aches to cease.
It took longer than usual, but finally he peered out from under his pillow to see Fortune sitting in a chair at the table.
He hoped his expression was as ferocious as he felt.
When was the last time you shaved?
All I see is black hair and attitude.
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It must have been the last bottle of whiskey.
I just got the mail packet.
He scratched the bristle of beard on his jaw.
Almost enough time to cure his itch and look presentable.
Most jobs that came his way lately paid little to nothing.
Your services are hired for Brasfield.
You need the money.
Not the best way to soften up three days of beard.
It was more difficult than he anticipated.
Gil looked up when he stepped back into the room, his gaze arrested by the sight, but he had the good sense not to comment.
He pushed a cup of steaming coffee across the table toward him.
Not that you need more.
Once I tell you about this new client, you may want to kiss me.
The mug of coffee heated his hands as he lifted it to his mouth, looking at Gil over the rim.
Pos­sibili­ties presented options, then questions.
Especially when it was his money that funded that damned expedition.
But what else are you doing to do?
Not приведу ссылку his own жмите сюда would have called 5 handsome, but behind his irregular features, slight overbite, and pale eyes the color of gooseberries lurked the charm of a statesman and the calculating brain of a physics professor.
He could sweet-talk a young lady out of her drawers and make her think it was her own idea, and tell you how many pennies were in a jar to the exact amount after only a glance.
A man of many talents.
I sent a cable that will be at Callao before you can get there.
May I suggest you invest in a new wardrobe before leaving?
Clothes make the man, I hear.
Not looking for Vilcapampa, anyway.
That place is cursed.
Ropes that were fine the day before were suddenly rotten.
Food that was sealed tightly in tins was opened and found to be filled with worms.
She is a New Orleans lady with a defiant thirst for adventure.

Комментарии 9

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  • Какое симпатичное сообщение

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