And she understood what he meant.
“Yes,” she said, shaking with passion and her own daring. She tugged on his hand, trying to lead him towards the rug.
He stood unmoving. “We should not.”
She rested her palms at either side of his face, tilting her head back so she could gaze into his eyes. “I would have you, once, before you leave forever. I will be yours forever in my heart. Let me be yours just this once, in the flesh.”
Her words seemed to free him of doubt. Now it was Callum who led Frida over to the woollen rug, which he spread out on the earth floor before laying her gently upon it.
“I love you,” he said, his face hovering over hers.
“I love you, too.” The words were easy to say, because they were true.
He dipped his head and claimed her lips, softly now, as if they had all the time in the world. His expert hands made light work of the fastenings of her dress while she pulled at his tunicuntil, at last, her palms encountered the hard plane of muscles over his stomach. Her traitorous mind recalled Callum’s words the last time they had embraced with such passion. When he said they would not come together without a comfortable bed and a roaring fire.
Without being husband and wife.
For a moment, grief lodged in her throat and threatened to overwhelm her. Callum immediately noticed that something was wrong.
“What is it?”
“Ignore me,” she half sobbed.
He stretched out beside her, washed golden by the candlelight. “I cannot ignore you, Frida.” His finger traced the line of her cheek. “Not at any time, but least of all now.”
She rose up on her elbow to look at him fully. “I only wish we had more time.”
But as she gazed down at the warrior beneath her, his tunic untied to reveal the scars and sinews of his powerful shoulders, another feeling overcame her. This time, it was she who lowered her head to drop a kiss on his waiting lips, her hands that pushed aside fabric to explore warm and willing flesh. His body was long and taut with muscle, so different from hers. She pressed her lips to the hollows of his clavicle whilst her palms slid down until they encountered the part of him that was most swollen with need. His breath came in a gasp and she tightened her fingers around him, revelling for a moment in the feeling of power this gave her.
By now she was clothed in only her shift, a thin cotton thing that did nothing to lessen the thrill of feeling the heat from Callum’s body. He unfastened the laces to free her small breasts, kissing and caressing until she moaned with desire. Then he rolled them both, until she laid back on the rough woollen rug with him positioned above her. When his warm hand strokedher inner thigh and found her curls, she moaned again, knowing this was exactly what she’d been yearning for. As he slid a finger inside her, she thought she might implode from the sharp, exquisite pleasure of it.
But that was nothing to when he entered her fully. At first, she knew a stab of pain, but Callum stilled above her until her body relaxed around him. Then came a feeling totally different to anything she had known before. They were as one, and she felt complete as never before. He rocked slowly, filling her up, introducing waves of sensation that robbed her of all notions of time and place. There was only Callum. Only now. She clung to him as the tension built inside her, not understanding where it would lead her, only knowing that she wanted more. When he took her over the edge, she wrapped her legs around his back and dug her fingernails into his shoulders, pulling him as deeply into her as he could possibly be.
He said her name, his lips pressed against her neck as his body tensed one final time. Then it was over and they clung to one another as their breathing and pulse rate slowed.
She rested her head against his chest, slotting against him as if she was home. But reality was already asserting itself and Frida’s face soon grew wet with tears.
Callum gently stroked them away with his thumbs. “Did I hurt you?” His voice was rough with concern.
“Nay.” She shook her head. “All that pains me is the knowledge that you must leave me.” She wanted to bury her face in his shoulders and hide from the truth, but they both knew that in a few hours, dawn would break and it would be too late for him to make his escape.
“I must leave,” he stated bleakly, echoing her thoughts. “I do not think I can do it.”
“You must,” she whispered, furious at the very notion of anything else. “Before the guard awakens.”
His face was drawn as he leaned in for one last kiss. “I will ne’er forget you, Frida de Neville.”
“Nor I you.” She pulled away before emotions could get the better of her again, knowing it would be selfish to sob and force words of comfort from him.
Any comfort there was, they had already taken.
He rose onto his knees as he fastened his tunic. “Will you go first, Frida?”
Still laying on the rug, she shook her head. “I will stay and watch you go.”
He dropped down, one hand on either side of her. “That I cannot do. I will not walk away from this place knowing you are here, on your own, in the dark. You must return safe to your bedchamber in the hall. Only then will I go.”
“’Tis misplaced chivalry, Callum. I am the mistress here. I am in no danger.”
