“Sloan!” Her voice was a sob as she backed away. “Don’t you see, Lord Treveryan, it is no longer my honor at stake! In all that has come to pass that has been truly brutal and cruel, I am most painfully aware that my loss of innocence at your hands was a gentle thing—never truly shameful, for in Port Quinby I came to discover true shame. I watched men die for me, and what then was my honor? But, Sloan, as I live, I must seek to save my soul! I cannot afford to need you further than I do! Sloan, you are a gallant man, but the day will come when a new maiden takes your fancy, and it will be she whom you will desire! And then I shall be lost. I cannot be your mistress, for the fact is that I do need you and there is nothing you can do or say to change that.”
“Is there not?” he asked her quietly, taking that last step so that she was crushed into his arms and held tenderly. She felt the beat of his heart and the touch of his hands on her hair as he cradled her against his chest, and then he pulled away from her and led her to sit on the bed. He sank to one knee before her and kissed the palms of her hands with gentle reverence. “Dear God, Brianna, can you not love me, can you still deny me, even knowing that I love you with all my heart and soul, my strength and purpose?” he whispered, seeking the answer within her eyes.
“What?” she murmured.
“I love you, Brianna. I swear, before God and all that is holy. I swear upon my life that I love you, and will love you all the days that I may live.”
Tears slid down her cheeks. He lifted his thumb to brush them tenderly away. She threw her arms about his neck and held him, marveling at the simple beauty of holding him close. He loved her. And love…love could conquer anything!
“Nay, Sloan,” she whispered. “I cannot deny you. I love you.” She repeated his name with tender love and reverence, but couldn’t summon words to describe the depths of her emotions. There was so much of him she wanted, so much of herself she yearned to give.
“Beloved, beloved witch…” he murmured in reply.
Her eyes rose to his, filled with the sweet beauty and promise of her heart. The last shimmering rays of her tears glistened upon the deep blue of those glorious pools, and Sloan realized that never before now had he known the simple wonder of such an overwhelming love. At long last he managed to speak, and his voice rang with conviction. “I swear to you, Brianna, that I will never for a moment forget you, that I will care for you always.”
She felt dizzy with the incredible delight of his words. He loved her as he loved his life; he would make her a part of his life. He would never for a moment forget her. They would marry, have a fine home filled with the laughter of children, and forever they would love each other. Perhaps it was wrong to find such happiness in the wake of tragedy, but she could not believe that anyone could begrudge her this love when she had learned so much of the terrors of life. She could barely think; all she could do was look at him, trembling with wonder.
He caught her fingers and massaged them with his, then kissed each individually. Desire, warm and delicious, began to sweep through her like the relentless push of the tide.
She shakily extracted her fingers from his and began to undo the buttons of his shirt, her eyes upon her task. She felt the rush of his breath when her fingers touched his bare chest.
His arms swept around her and his lips crushed hers hungrily, devouring with need and tenderness. He drew apart from her again, trembling as he held her away. “Sweet witch, your magic has more strength than my will. This is a temptation that I cannot deny.…”
Again his mouth came to hers and his tongue parted her lips and elicited the most tantalizing elixir of ardent response. For a long while they kissed deeply, holding each other in a passionate embrace. But at last he broke away from her, peeled away his shirt, and when his chest was bare, she had to explore the thick dark hair that covered its expanse, her eyes following the touch of her fingers with fascination. She noted all wonderful things, the tensing muscles beneath her fingers, the clean line of his collarbone, the hard rounded sinews of his arms and the curling trail of hair which became so slender as it narrowed to his breeches.
She set her hands upon the drawstring, and again delighted in the force of his shudder, the catch of his breath. The tide of yearning washed over her again, leaving a fire that blazed and wound within her abdomen and sent her quivering.
The string about his breeches gave under her questing fingers. Her feminine wiles were quickly igniting him to an excitement unlike any he had felt before. Her fingers slid over the tensely knotted firmness of his hard-muscled buttocks. Each graze of her nails sent his senses spiraling to a higher pinnacle of arousal, each movement of her lips against his sent him deeper under her unique bewitching spell.
This was no cunning seduction game for Brianna. She longed for him and she needed to touch him. Her lips traveled over his chest and she paused at his hard nipple feathered with dark hair. She grazed it with her teeth, nipping, tasting the salt spray and his intoxicating maleness. Her hands and fingers moved caressingly, and as he stood, she slowly lowered his breeches down his trim hips until she knelt to peel them from his strong legs. She was overwhelmed with the wonder that he was hers, that she was free to love him so, that she could create the racing of his blood and incite his desire.
“Dear God!” His husky groan touched her heart and thrilled her senses. “Youarea witch, you love me as no other.…”
He broke off with a gasp as she slid her hands over his legs, luxuriating in their strength. With the innocence and curiosity of Eve she pressed the moist heat of her kisses along his calves and then moved upward, to his knees, and to the tightly wired muscles of his thighs.
“Brianna!”
He was down beside her with his hands on her shoulders, holding her. She met his flaming eyes, and then his lips were on hers, ravaging, and yet tender. He ripped away the flimsy material of her gown.
Then he froze, and abruptly withdrew from her.
“What is wrong?” she cried, wondering desperately what could have overtaken him with such horror.
Then she felt his hands on her again, gently touching those spots where the pick had broken her flesh. “Damn fate that I cannot kill that man a thousand times again!” he swore.
She clutched his head to her breast, breathing a sigh of relief. Her fingers moved through his hair and she brokenly assured him, “There is no pain, Sloan; that is in the past. Please, don’t leave me! Your touch is the greatest balm.”
“I would not hurt you—”
“Then love me, and let him come no more between us.”
So tenderly did he touch her, his lips were a cooling breeze to every small hurt. She could not bear to go slowly, and pleaded that he set his passion free. He responded to her entreaties and allowed the leashed desire of many cold and lonely nights to unfold and soar.
She was lifted high and the remainder of her clothing impatiently drawn from her. He laid her down on the bed, and she met the blaze of his eyes with yearning invitation, her slender arms outstretched. The heat of anticipation that raced through her could mount no higher, and intuitively she shifted her long legs to receive him; but he smiled as he knelt beside her and brushed a kiss against the column of her throat.
“Not yet, my beloved witch…not yet. Magic is eternal.…”
His hand moved to the juncture of her thighs and she gasped out his name as she convulsively arched to him. He smiled at her, his ravenous needs drawing his features tight, yet still he waited, watching her, reveling in the undulation of her form, hips writhing, breasts arching.
