A fierce trembling racked her body. The leaves overhead shifted, as the little voice inside her murmured in agreement. He spoke true. A secret part of her had wanted him to catch her. A part of her had led him here to fulfill his promise.
As she struggled to control her thoughts, his gaze flicked around the glade, then settled on her. " 'Tis a fine place to make love." His voice sounded almost reverent. "I could not have chosen better myself."
Tangled emotions warred inside her. "I did not bring you here to fornicate," she cried. "I meant to run from you."
With a laugh that sounded almost tender, he set his hands upon his hips. "You really thought you could run from me and our marriage?"
"Why not?"
"Where did you think to go? You are my wife. Our marriage is legal, and we are well known throughout this county. Wherever you tried to hide, I would find you."
She fisted her hands. "I could seek refuge in a nunnery."
His grin widened. "You would make a rotten nun."
She arched an eyebrow. "Indeed?"
"You are not a woman who would enjoy endless hours of prayer, or a life constrained by religious rule. Not to mention celibacy." He winked. "You are a woman of passion and wild joys. A woman to be loved, cherished, and treasured by a man."
His words warmed her like molten sunlight. Pleasure shimmered through her.
Shaking her head, she fought the traitorous pull. "Milord, you are a rogue." Despite her intended scorn, her words came out in a breathless rush. She sounded like a woman intrigued. Tempted to the point of desperation.
He took a step closer. "I mean every word."
Her pulse skittered, then pounded at a faster rhythm. "Do not play with me. You married me for my noble blood. You wanted the prestige of my family name."
"I cannot deny that is true, but—"
"You never wanted me for who I really am."
A sigh exploded from his lips. "Rexana, I wanted you from the moment I saw you dance." His gaze sharpened with a hunger that shot deep inside her. "I saw your soul that night in my hall. I wanted you then. I want you now. God's teeth, have you any idea how much I desire you?"
Warmth flooded between her thighs. Her legs quivered. She struggled against her melting, yielding body. "My brother —"
"Nay. You will not hide behind your loyalty to him. He has no part in this. He made his own choices. He is responsible for his own fate. This matter is between you and me." As Fane spoke, he moved closer again. He halted before her. His breath warmed her brow. He did not touch her, yet she felt his body's powerful sexual aura. It wove itself around her. It drew her, like a vine, to him.
Her body screamed for his touch.
Oh, God. One touch, and she would be his.
He stared down into her face. Softly, so softly, he said, "What do you want, Rexana? Do you want to run? Do you want out of our marriage? Or are you curious to see how wondrous it can be between us?"
Her last, unraveling shred of reason warned she should not heed his entreaty. That she should stay true to her goal of an annulment. That she should resist the sensual web his words wove around her, grab her skirts, and run.
Yet, reason faded in the wake of another, more vibrant cry. One that tempted her like a potent nectar. It said that Fane was her destiny. All that had happened since Rudd's imprisonment had led to this one, pivotal moment.
A primitive rhythm seemed to flow up from the ground beneath her feet. The same rhythm echoed in the breeze, pushed up through every stalk of grass, quivered in each tiny, fragrant violet. It pulsed through her veins, heady as sap, to pool in her womb. The ancient magic coaxed. Tempted. Enlightened. She had not realized before now that every time she had danced in despair and loneliness, she had danced for him.
"What do you want?" he whispered again, his words hot on her skin. "What does your heart say?"
Tears dampened her eyes. Did she dare tell him that she desired him, with a passion that excited yet frightened her? How could she want him, when he sought to persecute her brother?
Yet, the spell of the ancient place pulled at her.
Wooed. Infused her with hunger.
He raised his hand, so his fingers hovered over her heart. "Here, now, your lineage does not matter. You are not a titled lady, fettered by tutoring and civility. You are the untamed, stubborn, incredibly beautiful woman who lives in your soul."
His fingers brushed her bliaut, just above her cleavage. "That is the woman I saw in your dance. The woman I love."
"Love?" Joy swelled within her.
He nodded. "Let me show you how much."
His fingers slid across her breast. Heat blazed on her skin. Her eyelids fluttered. As her body arched into his caress, he pulled her into his arms. His hard loins thrust against her womanhood, and the wanting inside her flared.
"Oh, Fane. Aye!"
"Rexana, how I love you."
"Show me," she whispered. "I am willing."
His lips swept down on hers in firm possession. He squeezed her tight. He held her as though he feared she might slip away. As though he would never let her.
A sigh rushed between her teeth. His mouth left hers to nibble a path across her jaw.
She shivered. "You tease."
"I seduce," he growled against her tingling skin.
His hands skimmed down to her bottom, and she wriggled against his hardness. He groaned and inhaled sharply.
"I shall seduce too," she murmured.
"Careful, love. Our dance will finish before it has properly begun."
"Why?" She squirmed out of his arms. "You must take the lead in this dance?"
His words rumbled low in his throat. "After the first time, you may lead. Aye?"
"If you wish."
"Good." He reached for her, his face stark with need. On instinct, she stepped backward. Grass heads brushed against her hands. He pursued, and she laughed.
She had taken no more than two steps, when he pounced. He pushed her down, cushioning her fall. She landed on her bottom in the lush grass. She half giggled, half squealed, as he dropped to his knees, prowled onto her, then pressed her onto her back. Nibbling the side of her cheek, he rolled her over, his limbs entwined with hers. The sweet scents of crushed grasses, flowers, and the spicy musk of man filled her senses.
Over and over they rolled. Kissing. Touching. Laughing. At last, she fell still, her head pillowed in a patch of violets.
Breathing hard, he settled himself over her. He grinned. "You are a fetching sight with your hair full of grass."
She feigned a frown. "And you are a barbarian, husband, for tossing me to the ground."
He chuckled. His mouth caught hers in a slow, wet kiss.
Moaning, she reached up to tangle her fingers through his silky hair. The kiss deepened. His tongue meshed with hers in a steady, sensual rhythm. Her womb pulsed with a similar beat.
He shuddered. "I cannot wait much longer."
"Nor can I."
He smiled. As his fingers slid to her bliaut's ties, a tremor rippled through her, rattling the haze of pleasure. What did she have to do? Would her first experience hurt?
She shifted beneath him. "Will it —"
"Shhh, love. I will be gentle." He shook. "Though, by God, 'twill be a valiant effort."
The last tie whispered free. His hand slid underneath her yellow gown to her linen shift, and closed over one of her breasts. She gasped.
He groaned. "Ah, love."
His thumb rubbed over her nipple. Heat shot down between her legs. Sensation so sharp and urgent, she cried out.
He bowed his head. Swore between his teeth.
He caught her gown, pulling it up to her thighs.
"Fane?"
"Let me lead," he begged, even as his fingers searched through the layers of bliaut and shift. "Let me give you pleasure. Let me show you this dance between man and woman."
A draft, then his hands, brushed her inner thigh. She started. As he touched her sex, she jumped again. "Oh!"
Through the exquisite haze, she became aware of him shifting to one side. He fumbled with his garments. The points of his hose popped. He shifted again, and then his warm maleness brushed the place where his hand had been.
Her eyes flew open.
His snarled hair hung down beside his taut jaw. His gaze smoldered. His mouth tensed, as though it took great restraint to hold still above her. Leaning forward, he brushed his lips over hers in a rough kiss. He nibbled her bottom lip and his hardness glided against her. Teased. Tempted.
An intense thrill seared through her. His flesh felt smooth against hers. She wanted more. She wanted to taste the wildness his body promised. With a greedy moan, she tilted her hips up.
He pressed forward.
Pain stabbed between her legs. Pressure. Her entire body tensed, and her breath jammed in her throat.
He groaned. "You feel wondrous. Perfect."
Perfect? "Ouch. Fane?"
With utmost tenderness, he kissed her and nuzzled her cheek. "The pain will fade, I promise." He slowly withdrew, then gently eased forward again. "At last, love, you are mine."
His strangled tone washed through her. Reassurance and pleasure warmed her soul as she blinked away tears. No man had spoken to her with the desperation, honesty, and love she heard in Fane's voice.
"And you are mine," she murmured and touched his cheek.
He stilled, as though surprised by her words, then smiled. "I am."
He thrust again. The pain dimmed, fading to an elusive craving.
He began a slick rhythm that erased all memory of discomfort. Delicious heat filled her hips, belly, and limbs, right to the tips of her fingers.
It grew. Grew. Grew.
A new, intoxicating pressure built between her legs. Fane's breath hissed between his teeth. His hair brushed her face. She tossed her head and curled her hips into his thrusts. Restless. Needy.
Her fingers clawed into the grass and violets beneath her.
"Do you feel the wildness, Rexana?" he rasped above her.
"Aye." She stared up into his dark, hungry eyes.
Heat flared.
She dragged in a breath. Once. Twice.
"Fane . . . !" Sensation exploded.
He stiffened above her. A growl wrenched from him. The harsh, primitive sound filled her with wonder.
Her body throbbed, again and again. As the pulses faded, she unclenched her hands from the crushed grass. The fresh glade air filled her lungs. She smelled the musky scent of aroused male, sweat, and violets. Bittersweet pleasure stirred within her.
Now, she was his. Body, heart and soul.
Fane dropped his face into the warm cradle between Rexana's neck and shoulder. He listened to the wind sigh around them, the birds chatter, and her slowing breaths.
Rexana smelled wonderful. Sated.
His blood cooled. His body purred.
He lay there for some moments, savoring the scent of her. Contentment flooded through him. He had succeeded in wooing her. She had finally accepted the Tightness of their marriage. He prayed she did not have virgin regrets.
She swallowed.
Steeling himself against her tears, he braced himself up on one elbow to look down at her. A blush stained her face. The enticing rosy hue ran all the way down her throat to her gown's neckline. With a sting of regret, he realized they were both still fully clothed. In the mad rush to have her, he had not even taken the time to undress her.
She looked away, so he brushed a finger down her cheek.
"Are you well?"
A smile touched her mouth. "Mmm."
" 'Twas pleasurable for you, our coupling?"
She stirred beneath him. "Most pleasurable." Frowning, she added, "Though I did not expect to be dressed."
Heat warmed his cheekbones. "I was impatient."
"Indeed?" Her smile turned wry before she pressed her hands against his shoulders, an entreaty for him to move. He rolled off her into the violets, and she sat up.
She righted her creased gown and fumbled with the loosened ties, then threw up her hands in dismay.
"The birds do not care that your bliaut is unfastened."
She flipped her straggly braid over her shoulder and looked at him. "They would not care if I were nude."
He wagged his eyebrows. "True."
Her flush deepened. A spark lit her eyes, a moment before she stood. "I am going down to the water to bathe."
"I will come too."
She did not answer, but walked toward the glinting pool. He pushed to his feet, fastening his hose.
As Rexana trampled a path through the grass, her body swayed. He smiled. She moved like a woman who had experienced her own sensual power. Who had tasted love, and knew it to be good.
Raking a hand through his snarled hair, he followed her. She kicked off her shoes and stepped barefoot into the mud. She hesitated, stared down at the gray-green water, then hugged her arms over her breasts.
Sunlight washed over her profile. She looked ravishing, yet also vulnerable. Fane stepped down into the mud and, before he cautioned himself, wrapped his arms around her waist. A tremor rippled through her.
He nuzzled the back of her neck. "Love?"
She sighed.
"You cannot regret our coupling."
"I do not. 'Twas what I wanted. Yet —"
He looked down at the glassy reflection of them together. "Here, in this glade, we think only of our pleasure. Not what has been, or what must be."
Her body tensed. " 'Tis not so simple a decision for me."
Pushing aside her braid, he nipped her skin. "Nay?"
She shuddered. Heat shot through his loins. His manhood pulsed. Hardened. Again, he craved the luscious taste and feel of her, the velvety warmth of her body encasing him.
Before he could kiss her again, she wiggled free of his arms. She reached down, caught her bliaut and shift, and whisked them over her head. Light played over her naked back, and the fetching curves of her bottom.
The air shot from his lungs. In his wildest imaginings, he had not come close to her true beauty.
Sweeping wispy hair from her cheek, she partly turned toward him. A mischievous smile touched her mouth. "You are impatient again, milord. This time, you must wait."
He growled. "I will not."
She laughed. Ran into the water. Dove under with a splash.
His blood thumped with challenge. He groped for his clothing. Cursed his clumsy hands. He yanked off his tunic and shirt and, as he hopped out of his hose and boots, saw her surface at the far edge of the pool near a cluster of rocks and a fallen, gnarled tree.
She blew water from her lips, then brushed hair from her face. As she turned to glance at him, he charged, roaring, into the pool.
Her eyes widened. She submerged.
Fane opened his eyes in the water. She swam ahead of him, past a school of fish that darted in and out of the light, their backs glinting like bits of silver. He kicked hard. Pulled his arms through the water. Closed the space between them. Caught her ankle, and yanked her to him.
She surfaced in his arms. Splashing. Squawking. Water droplets glinted on her eyelashes.
"Fie! How did you cross so qui—"
He smothered her words with a kiss. She resisted for an instant, then, with a mewl, softened into his embrace.
He gently propelled her backward, against a semi- submerged rock. The water lapped just below her breasts. As he broke the kiss, he pressed his forehead against hers and stared down at the luscious swell of flesh so close within reach.
His.
Knotting his fingers into her hair, he tipped her head back. She laughed, and he sensed her heavy-lidded gaze upon him as he laved and kissed her satiny neck, her collarbone, the hollow of her throat. Little gasps burst from her lips. When he cupped he
r breasts in his hands, she groaned.
Madness shot through him. He had to have her. He coaxed her up out of the water. Followed her, dripping, onto the sunny rock. Urged her to lie on her back. This time, she smiled up at him with understanding and anticipation. When he thrust into her, she cried out with her own need.
He took her with care. Thoroughness. Watched the pleasure bloom on her face. Cherished each of her cries and moans, before taking his release. He loved her, as his soul mate deserved to be loved.
Dance Of Desire Page 24
