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A honeymoon was what he nearly said, but he thought it best to be cautious for the time being. “About you coming away with me.” He had her hand again, nibbling along her fingers as he smiled at her over them. “About you flying off with me to places of romance and mystery and legend. I’ll show you Tintagal, where Arthur was conceived the night Merlin worked his magic on Uther so Ygraine thought she was greeting her own husband. And we’ll stay in one of those farmhouses in France and drink their wine and make love in a big feather bed. Then we’ll stroll along the canal in Venice and wonder at the grand cathedrals. Wouldn’t you like that, sweetheart?”

“Yes, of course.” It sounded glorious, magical. Like another of his stories. “It’s just impossible.”

“Why would that be?”

“Because . . . I have work, and so do you.”

He chuckled, then switched his attentions from her fingers to the side of her jaw. “And do you think my pub would crumble or your work vanish? What’s two weeks or so in the grand scheme of things, after all?”

“Yes, that’s true, but—”

“I’ve seen those places you spoke of.” He moved to her mouth to quietly seduce. “Now I want to see them with you.” His hands skimmed over her face, and he began to lose himself in her, the tastes and textures of her. “Come away with me, a ghra.” He murmured it, drawing her closer when she shivered.

“I . . . I’m supposed to go back to Chicago.”

“Don’t.” His mouth grew hotter, more possessive. “Be with me.”

“Well . . .” Her thoughts wouldn’t line up. Every time she tried to align one, it tumbled down, scattering others. “Yes, I suppose . . .” What was a couple of weeks, after all? “In September. If you’re sure—”

“I’m sure.” He got to his feet, then plucked her off the rock, grinning when she gave a gasp and locked her arms around his neck. “Are you thinking I’d be dropping you, now that I’ve got you? I take better care of what’s mine than that.”

Of what was his? The phrase worried her a bit, but before she could think of how to respond, she saw the figure behind them.

“Aidan.” Her voice was barely more than a breath.

He tensed, tucked her under his arm to defend, then turning, relaxed again.

The lady barely made a ripple on the air as she walked. But her pale hair gleamed in the moonlight, as did the tears.

“Lady Gwen, out looking for the love she lost.” Pity stirred in his heart when he saw the tears glittering on her cheeks.

“As he does. I saw him again today. I spoke with him.”

“You’re becoming right chummy with faeries, Jude Frances.”

She felt the wind on her face, could smell the sea. Aidan’s arm was strong and warm around her. Yet it seemed like an illusion that would vanish the moment she blinked. “I keep thinking I’ll wake up in my own bed in Chicago, and this, all of this, would have been some long, complex dream. I think it would break my heart.”

“Then your heart’s safe.” He bent his head to kiss her. “This is no dream, and you’ve my word on it.”

“It must hurt her to see lovers here.” She looked back. The lady’s gilded hair was flying, and her cheeks were wet. “They don’t have even that instant at dawn or sunset to reach out.”

“A single choice can build destinies, or destroy them.”

When she looked up at him, startled to hear him echo Carrick’s words to her, he stroked her hair. “Come, let’s go back. She makes you sad.”

“Yes, she does.” Jude clung to Aidan’s hand now, for going down was trickier than going up. “I wish I could talk to her, and I can’t believe I’m casually saying I wish I could talk to a ghost. But I do. I’d like to ask her what she feels and thinks and wishes, and what she would change.”

“Her tears tell me she would change everything.”

“No, women cry for all manner of reasons. To change everything, she’d have to give up the children she’d carried inside her, raised and loved. I don’t think she could do that. Would do that. Carrick asked too much of her, and he doesn’t understand that. Maybe one day he will, then they’ll find each other.”

“He only asked what he needed, and would have given all he had.”

“You’re thinking like a man.”

“Well, it’s a man I am, so how else would I think?”

It made her laugh, that hint of irritated pride in his voice. “Exactly as you do. And because a woman thinks like a woman, it explains why the two species are as often at odds as they are in sync.”

“I don’t mind being at odds off and on, as it keeps things more interesting. And since I’m thinking like a man right now

. . .” He swept her up into his arms and muffled her surprised gasp with his mouth.

How could a kiss be gentle and searing at the same time? she wondered. So gentle it had tears swimming to her eyes, so hot it liquefied the bones. She let herself slide into it, a warm pool with flames licking at the edges.

“Do you want me, Jude? Tell me you want me.”

“Yes, I want you. I always want you.” She was already neck-deep in that pool, and slipping under.

“Make love with me here.” He chewed restlessly on her bottom lip. “Here in the moonlight.”

“Mmmm.” She started to consent, then surfaced with a shot, an incautious diver clawing into the air. “Here? Outside?”

He would have been amused by her reaction, but the seduction he’d begun had circled around to claim him. “Here, on the grass, with the night breathing around us.”

Still holding her, he knelt. And with his mouth roaming her face, murmured to her, “Give yourself to me.”

“But what if someone comes by?”

“There’s no one but us, in the whole world, no one else.” His hands moved over her, and his mouth. Even as she opened her own to protest, he spoke again. “I’ve such a need for you. Let me show you. Let me have you.”

The grass was so soft, and he was so warm. To be needed was such a miracle, so much more important than sense and modesty. There was a tenderness in his hands as he stroked her, slowly, slowly, heating her blood. His mouth brushed over hers, whispering of promises.

And suddenly there was no one else in the world, and no need for there to be.

Lazily, she lifted her arms as he drew off her sweater. when he trailed his fingertips down her body, her eyes grew heavy, her body slumberous. He slipped off her shoes, her slacks, undressing her without hurry and letting his hands touch and linger where they liked until it seemed her skin hummed.

She lay naked in the grass, moonlight sprinkling over her. When she reached for him, he drew her up.

“I want to unbind your hair, to watch it tumble down.” He kept his eyes on hers as he freed it. “Do you remember the first time?”

“Yes, I remember.”

“Now I know what pleases you.” He pressed his lips to her shoulder, then let her hair riot down to curtain his face and smother him with silk and scent. “Lie back on the grass and let me pleasure you.” His teeth scraped lightly down the side of her neck as he lowered her again. “I’ll give you all I have.”

He could have feasted, but instead he only sipped. Long, luxurious kisses that shuddered into the soul and drew soft moans from it. And at each moan he went deeper.

He could have ravished, but instead he seduced. Slow, tender caresses that slid over the skin and sent it quivering. And at each quiver, he lingered.

She lost herself in him, in the delightfully dizzy mix of senses and sensations. Cool grass and warm flesh, fragrant breezes and husky whispers, strong hands and patient lips.

She watched the moon soar overhead, a gleaming white ball against a deep blue sky, chased by tattered wisps of clouds. She heard the call of an owl, a deep, demanding cry, and felt the echo of it leap into her blood as he urged her up and up to that first rippling crest.

She sang out his name, floating as the high, warm wave cascaded through her.

“Go higher.” He was desperate to watch her fly, to know that he could send her up until her eyes were wild and blind and her body quaking. “Go higher,” he demanded again, and drove her there more ruthlessly than he’d intended.

Heat flashed into her, a star exploding. The shock of pleasure was so intense, so unexpected after the tenderness, her body reared up, half in protest, half in delight. This time it wasn’t a moan that escaped her, but a scream.

“Aidan.” She gripped him for balance as her world went mad and they rolled over. “I can’t.”

“Again.” He dragged her head back by the hair and savaged her mouth. “Again, until we’re both empty.” The hands that had been so gentle dug into her hips, lifted her. “Tell me you want me inside you. Me and no one else.”

“Yes.” She was frantic, all but weeping as her body bowed back. “You and no one else.”

“Then take me.”

He drew her down until she was filled with him, until the glory of it burst through her. Her breath tore from his throat as she arched back, her body silvered by the moonlight. Her hair rained back in a dark tangle. She lifted her arms, a gesture of abandon, tangling her own fingers in those tumbling curls.

Then her body began to rock, to move, to seek.

The power was hers now, the control of each whip of pleasure. As his body rose and fell to her pace, she let herself take. His muscles trembled as she stroked her hands over him. His eyes seemed dark as the night as she leaned close to torment his mouth as he had hers. The low groan she ripped from him had her laughing in triumph.

“Higher.” She braced herself over him. “This time I’ll take you higher.” Boldly she took his hands, closed them over her breasts. “Touch me. Touch me everywhere while I take you.”

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