“I am not Quinn. He tried to survive. His heart ached to see you again and his love for you never wavered. He was desperate to get back to you, but he was not strong enough. It was my word I gave him the night he lay dying that brought me here.”
Heather shook her head. “No, you are my Quinn, I know you are.”
“Quinn is dead. He is never coming back.”
Tears ran down her cheeks as she rushed over to him and pounded his chest repeatedly with her small fists. “No! No! You are lying. You are Quinn! Quinn! Quinn! Please God—tell me you are Quinn!”
Rhys let her pound at him and when she stopped, her sobs nearly robbing her of breath, he lifted her up into his arms and carried her to the bed. He laid her down and climbed in beside her, easing her on her side to rest back against him. He wrapped his arm around her and rested his leg over her two, keeping her as tightly pressed against him as he could, and then he listened to her cry herself to sleep.
* **
Heather wokewith a wince and rolled off her sore shoulder. She jumped when a crack of thunder sounded. Rain tapped at the window and gray skies lingered. The dreary weather matched her thoughts, and she pulled the blanket tighter around her.
She was relieved to find herself alone. She was far too confused and upset to see or speak to anyone, especially her husband. She had been so sure that Rhys was Quinn. Had she been so upset about being wed to the Dark Dragon that she saw something that was never there? Had she wanted Quinn so badly to return to her that she imagined she saw him in Rhys? Or could she be right?
I buried him myself.
The words stung her heart. Could it be true? Was Quinn dead and buried in a foreign land? She fought back her tears.
Shed your tears for the dead and be done with it. Life is for the living.
An old woman at her mum’s burial had said that to her and she had done just that that day. But then she had her two sisters and father to look after and a keep to run. There had been no time for tears. She had, however, shed tears for Quinn throughout the years, for she had not known if he was alive or dead.
Was it time to be done with Quinn and get on living? She got out of bed, the wood planks coolagainst her bare feet, and went and retrieved the ring she had hidden when she first arrived here. She cupped it in her hand and went to stoop down by the hearth’s flames to look at it. Quinn had made it for her and slipped it on her finger just before he left.
This ring is a symbol of my love for you and a promise that I will return and make you my wife.
He had said those words to her when he slipped the ring on her finger. She had worn the ring on her finger every day since then, until her betrothal to Rogan. She had removed it and strung it on the blue ribbon to wear around her neck.
She stared at the plain metal band that had held such promise and meant so much to her through the years.
The door opened and Rhys entered. Heather did not try to hide the ring from him as he walked over to her.
His dark eyes went to her cupped hand and he crouched down beside her. He snatched the ring from her hand, stared at it for several moments, then tossed it in the flames.
Heather went to grab it, but his hand quickly closed around her wrist.
“You need it no more,” he said and yanked her to her feet prepared to face her anger. He did not expect to be met with silence or the gentle look in her lovely blue eyes. And the more she remained standing there silent, the more he ached to kiss her.
As if she knew his need, she rose up on her toes and with a brush of her lips across his, whispered, “Make me yours?”
“It is the Dragon you get and no other,” he warned, growing harder by the second.
“It is the Dragon I want,” she said and stepped away from him to strip off her garments.
He watched her every move, his lips thirsting for her rosy nipples as her breasts fell free and as her garment slipped further down over her curved hips to reveal the triangle of blond hair between her legs, he lost what little control he had.
He tore off his garments, reached out, and snagged her around the waist to lift her in his arms and carry her to the bed. He dropped her down on it and spread her legs, burying his face between them.
Heather gasped when his tongue began to tease her senselessly. Her passion soared with every lick and stroke of his tongue, and she grasped the bedding, squeezing it tight as she dropped her head back and moaned aloud. Her moan grew when his hand slipped along her stomach to her breast to play with her nipple, rolling it between his fingers and squeezing lightly before giving it a sharp pinch that set her whole-body quivering.
“Rhys!” she cried out.
He rose up on his knees and slipped his arms under her legs and pulled her toward him, sliding into her easily. And as he plunged deeper inside her, he said, “You are mine, Heather. You will always be mine.”
It did not take her long to scream as she climaxed hard and fast.
“No!” she cried out, feeling on the verge of another climax as Rhys pulled out of her.
