Midnight Jewels

easy to be thoroughly repulsed by him and everything he had done. Easy to walk away from him. But I seem to be trapped with you."
    "And you don't hate me."
    Mercy heaved a forlorn sigh, thinking of the previous night. "I guess that's only too obvious, isn't it?"
    His gaze turned remote and austere. "I'm aware that when this is all over, regardless of how it turns out, I'm going to owe you. I always pay my debts, Mercy, and I'll pay this one. I swear it."
    "That's just ducky." She sprang to her feet, dusting off the seat of her jeans. "I'll have to think long and hard about exactly what to ask of you in the way of repayment, won't I? I'll want to be sure I get my money's worth."
    She started through the meadow, aware that Croft was following with his usual silent tread. The sun was still warm and the flowers just as gemlike, but some of the brightness had gone out of the day. Mercy understood now that as far as Croft was concerned, he was going to come out of this tied to her with the bond of indebtedness.
    He would owe her.
    Mercy didn't see how a debt of honor, especially one based on Croft's rigid personal code, was going to translate very easily into a bond of love.
    "Mercy, wait."
    Croft reached out to catch her hand and drew her to a halt. She looked up at him. "What is it, Croft?"
    "I was wrong," he said a little thickly as he framed her face with his strong hands. "We do have world enough. Hell, we've got this whole mountain meadow. It's a world unto itself."
    "And the time?" she whispered.
    "We'll make the time."
    The brightness came back into the day as Croft lowered Mercy down onto the grass. She put her arms around his neck and thought about how badly he must want her if he was willing to change his mind about making love to her. She smiled.
    Croft saw the smile and groaned as he stretched out beside her. "You really must be a witch." He trapped her legs beneath his thigh and his fingers went to the buttons of her camp shirt. "Just feel what you do to me." He took her palm and put it on the burgeoning hardness that was already pushing against the fabric of his pants. "I don't seem to have any control around you."
    Mercy threaded her fingers through the thickness of his hair, her eyes misty with a loving invitation. "It works both ways, you know. Look what you do to me."
    "I'd rather feel what I do to you. You always feel so good when I touch you." He pushed the shirt off her shoulders and started on her jeans. He worked quickly, his impatience evident in the swift, sure movements he used to undress her. A few minutes later Mercy was lying naked in a field of wild-flowers, her skin warmed by the sun and the touch of the man who held her as if she were a part of him.
    "Your clothes," she murmured in husky protest as he didn't bother to undress himself. Her trembling fingers went to the buttons of his shirt.
    "Forget my clothes," he muttered. "I'll take care of them." He unzipped his pants, sat up in a cross-legged position and caught hold of her hand again. "Now you can help me." He guided her fingers back to the opening in his pants.
    "Croft?"
    His expression was a little wicked and altogether sexy. His eyes gleamed. "How long are you going to keep me waiting?"
    Goaded, she slipped her hand inside the open zipper, found the pocket of his briefs and then her fingers closed around his hard shaft. Warm, masculine flesh pulsed eagerly against her palm. Gently Mercy freed Croft's eager member from its confinement. She touched him delicately, wonderingly and Croft groaned. A drop of moisture formed at the blunt tip of his shaft, dampening Mercy's fingertip.
    "Come here, honey. I can't wait any longer." He reached for her, pulling her down onto his lap in a sitting position.
    Mercy gasped, filled with a sudden, wild abandon when Croft positioned her so that she was astride him. She clutched at his shoulders as she sat facing him, her thighs spread wide, the secret place between her legs fully exposed. Croft's unyielding manhood pressed against her inner leg, heavy and waiting.
    "Croft, I'm not sure this is..." She couldn't think of a logical protest. She could not mink at all. Mercy just knew she felt outrageously wanton as she sat there straddling Croft's lap.
    "Relax," he whispered. "Just remember that you're always safe with me." Then he touched her, exploring her with a deliberate possessiveness that made Mercy tremble. She cried out softly and closed her eyes. He moistened his finger in the dampness he