She reached up and untied his cloak, pushing it off his shoulders and letting it fall to the ground behind him.
‘A different world,’ he whispered back.
She nodded.
He took her in his arms and lowered her to the ground, spreading the cloak under her for a bed.
‘I have imagined something like this,’ he said in a dreamy voice, as he stretched out beside her. ‘We were on a picnic. We had finished eating and we were lying in the grass together.’ He traced a finger over her breasts.
She sighed as he touched her nipples. ‘You’ve imagined being with me.’
Hearing that was almost as wonderful as what had just happened.
‘You trusted me,’ he said, leaning over to kiss her.
‘I do,’ she whispered, shivering as he touched her breasts again. She laid her hand flat on against his chest, imagining his skin. But in this new world, she didn’t have to imagine. She undid the buttons of waistcoat and pulled at his shirt until it came free of his breeches. ‘In this dream, what happened next?’ Her fingers grazed his ribs.
He inhaled on a hiss. ‘I did not allow myself to hope for much more than that.’
‘But if you had?’ His skin was warm. His nipples were hard and flat, and there was a dusting of hair between them that led her hand down to his waist.
‘You would undo my breeches,’ he said through clenched teeth.
She found the buttons at his waist and undid the band, pausing to touch the skin she’d exposed.
He let out a frustrated moan, but he did not stop her. Instead, he placed his hand over hers, guiding her to continue.
She hesitated for just a moment before hurrying on, pulling the cloth aside and freeing him. He was hard and erect. He felt different from anything she’d touched so far. He was new and fascinating and he was hers, even if it was only for tonight.
He trembled, as she had when he’d touched her and she felt an answering tremor deep inside herself.
‘We will be warmer if you hold me,’ she said, pulling her skirt up and out of the way.
‘God, yes,’ he said.
She took her hand away as he rolled on top of her and kissed her again. It was a hungry, urgent joining of lips that seemed as eager to forget propriety as she was. When he broke away, it was with a desperate sigh.
‘This is madness.’
‘I do not care.’ She wrapped her arms around him, slipping them beneath his coat and sliding down to find bare skin. Then she rocked her hips up in invitation.
The moon disappeared behind a cloud again, as if the night conspired to hide them as he reached between them, touching her with his manhood as he had with his hands.
‘Yes,’ she said, holding her breath as she felt his fingers in her again, trying to ease the way. Then they disappeared and something was happening that felt as impossible as the magic of the stones. She’d spent her life on one side of this barrier, afraid. She wasn’t going back. It was too late for that.
She braced herself and tilted her hips, rocking towards him as he pushed. It only hurt a little, then it was over and they were one.
He relaxed against her, laughing softly and she wondered if this was all. Before she could ask, he placed a hand on her shoulder. ‘You feel so good,’ he whispered. ‘I should not do this.But you just feel so, so good. I will be careful, I swear.’ Then, he began to move. Cautiously, at first. Gently. Long strokes, almost leaving her body before burying himself deep inside her again.
This was better than a fantasy. Better than anything she’d ever imagined. She’d never need to dream again with this memory to sustain her. Her sweet Thomas, the man she’d built a castle of dreams with, was trembling over her and in her, on the brink of something wonderful.
She reached down to try and touch him again, or to touch herself as he’d suggested. The pleasure was dizzying. She gave herself up to it, spreading her legs even wider so she could hook them around his, locking their bodies together when he tried to pull away as her soul tightened like a bow string, ready to be released.
His rhythm faltered for a moment. Then the tempo increased and his movements became desperate short strokes that seemed to reach the very heart of her. It was as if her soul was caressing him, trying to hold a part of him inside her body for ever.
He answered the call of her body and gave himself up to her, shuddering and going still.
As the rush of his release faded, Thomas struggled to ignore the reasonable voice at the back of his mind saying that actions had consequences. It was Bonham talking, he was sure, the part of his soul that had been sacrificed to the title upon his birth.
