Once they were outside the smoky cottage again, Annora ventured a glance at Edmund. His features were taut and strained..
Annora’s heart went out to him. She reached for his hand and squeezed it gently, not having words for that moment.
He grinned at her as they walked back to the place where their ponies had been tied. “Now ye ken me whole story, lass. And there’s nay other but the midwife and ye who kens who I truly am.”
She gave a tiny laugh. “Methinks I kent who ye were long before I heard yer story from Midwife Catarine. It was clear tae me that ye were noble-born, whether that was yer parentage or nae.”
He gave her a piercing look, as if he was trying to make sense of this.
“Is that truly how ye see me, Annora?”
“Aye. I ken ye’ve the heart and spirit of a warrior and a fair and just man. It is a great privilege that ye’ve allowed me to hear yer untold story, Edmund. I am nae at all surprised tae learn of yer noble birth.”
He shook his head and she could see he still carried the burden of his long-held ideas of who he was.
“I’ll nay say aught tae another soul. ‘Tis yer story tae tell if ye wish it so.”
He reached an arm about her shoulders and pulled her close and she melded into his solid form. She wanted him to hold her. He was close enough for her to smell his peaty scent, and feel the warmth of his body and his breath in her hair.
“All this talking has given me an appetite. I stole a small feast fer us from the kitchen – what say we find our way back tae the Faery Glen and eat in the place we found there when we went with Lamend?” Suggested Edmund.
She gave him a sideways glance.
Is he thinking the same as I? That we are bewitched and we’re drawn back tae the place of the fae?
“Aye. I’d like that. Can one be bewitched twice?” She reached a hand for him to help her mount her horse.
He chuckled. “That’s what we’re tae find out.”
They let the horses dawdle on the way to the Glen. The wind had come up since they had left the castle, and angry gray clouds were scudding across the sky, yet the Glen was sheltered and the air was calm around them.
They found a level grassy space where they could sit to enjoy the repast Edmund had filched from the kitchen. He’d brought them a selection of hard and soft cheeses, berries, walnuts, bannocks and little honey-cakes. They sipped from a shared flask of ale.
She leaned across with a berry between her finger and thumb and brought it to his mouth. He opened his lips and she popped the berry inside. Then he did the same for her.
Berries had never tasted so sweet.
Edmund sprawled his length on the grass and leaned on one elbow while she sat beside him, knees tucked under her chin.
“There’s something I must do.” He leaned in, wove his arm around her waist and rolled her over so that she was on her side facing him, her knees extended.
Her heart was hammering mightily at his closeness. Then, before she could protest–even if did not intend to–he lowered his lips to hers and she felt his tongue on the soft pad of her lower lip.
“There, ye left too much of the precious juice on yer lips.”
She giggled and put her tongue to the same task with his stained lips.
“Mm. Ye taste good, milord,” she whispered into his mouth.
He laid her head back on the grass and rolled closer, capturing her tongue with his, pressing her lips to his.
Her arms wound around his neck and he lowered himself to deepen the kiss just as she raised herself, pressing her soft breasts to his broad chest, thrilling to his touch, his nearness and the scent and taste of him.
He groaned and took her in his arms, holding her close so that she felt the weight of him and his hardness on her, igniting a fire in her blood that surged from her breasts to the juncture of her thighs.
A demon of the fae must have taken possession of her body, for she blazed with yearning to be consumed, determined that only more, and yet more, of his touch and his kisses could cool the heat and put out the fire.
Yet the more his hands caressed her and the deeper went his kiss, the higher the wild flames of her passion rose.
