He slid from the bench onto his knees and caught both her hands in her lap. “I maun have ye. Please.”
He pleaded. For what only she could give. What she could not withhold.
“Aye.”
He lifted her from the bench and carried her to the bed behind them. He did it carefully, effortlessly, as if she weighed nothing. Setting her just as carefully on the counterpane, he gazed at her before he reached for the ties at the front of her gown.
Those hands. Those hands.
Some mad part of her remembered the knife then. She would need the knife before this was done. She needed to retain her clothing, then.
She had to have him first. The light inside her must consume the darkness. Yet…the darkness would not remain defeated. It never did.
“Wait,” she told him, and stripped off her own gown while he watched with an avid gaze. She bundled the garment beside the bed with the slit of the pocket uppermost. Her chemise followed, and she—who had never been naked before any man—barely noticed for the heat of it.
With his gaze still upon her, he stripped off. She’d already seen the muscled torso, the brawny shoulders, and the terriblewound he bore. The rest of him, equally formidable, should have terrified her. But she could not look away.
She’d been taken before by the magic, possessed by a Vision. Would this be like that? Irresistible. Transformative. Glorious.
She made a sound in her throat, and in response he came down onto the bed.
“Saerla. Lass. Let me worship ye.”
Had those words truly come from him? The brute who knew only conquest and demand? Who knew naught of mercy?
She reached for him, wove her fingers into his hair, and brought him to her breast. Lost even before his mouth closed upon her, her soul launched.
And flew.
It was impulse that took hold of her and moved her beyond herself in that flight. Flame, and the taste of him, aye, still on her tongue after those kisses, and the scent of him all moved with her, even as the air streamed past her wings.
His lips felt hot when they left her breast and traveled over her skin. Worshiping, just as he’d promised. Everywhere. At the pulse that leaped in her neck and down both arms in turn. Kisses pressed into the palms of her hands. Onto her knees. Up onto her thighs. His large, scarred hands parted them ever so gently, and he kissed her between.
Unthinkable. Unimaginable. An act she should not permit. One, just the same, she had not the power to refuse.
He laid his mouth upon her, slid his tongue inside her, and the fire leaped up so fierce and bright that she clutched his hair and threw herself wide to him. The pleasure hit, convulsed her. A wild vortex it was of yearning, rippling sensation that lifted her high. She lay there open for him. She let him in as she had no one else ever, save the light.
When he removed his mouth, slid up her body, and returned his lips to hers, she welcomed it, unable to give enough of herselfto him. Even as his tongue entered her mouth, he pierced her below, causing only a pinch of pain, almost lost in the rise of the flames once again.
They rode the glory of those flames, the two of them together, not two bodies but one.
The fire died but slowly, with small bursts of light like tiny explosions against the inside of Saerla’s eyelids. She came to herself with equal slowness, only then realizing in full what she had done.
Let the conqueror inside. The man she needed to defeat at all cost.
He lay half atop her, his weight pressing her into the counterpane, and his warm breath against her neck. When the last of the sparks faded and she opened her eyes, she had a close-up view of him. So close. Close enough that he might be still inside her.
Eyes closed. Thick black lashes on cheeks bronzed by days spent on the training field. He was a warrior, this man, to the bone. Except with her. With her he was…
She did not have words for what he was. Gentle. Yearning.
He opened his eyes. The intensity of his gaze pierced her once again, started up the heat.
Nay. And nay. She needed to end this. Finish it. Complete what had begun in the Vision.
“Saerla.”
His hair had come loose from its tie during the madness that possessed them and fell like silk against a cheek rough with stubble. He reached for her. “Bonny lass.”
