And there would be a lot of pleasure. She knew this with a soul-deep understanding. They would burn brightly together, flame to flame.
A person didn’t desire more than one lover at a time. That wasn’t how attraction and affection worked. Or did it?
Yet as Tej helped her to stand, his gaze was hot and intent on her face, his eyes locking with hers. She couldn’t look away as her breath seized in her lungs.
“Thank you,” she said breathlessly. At his frown, she explained, “For sharing your story with me. You don’t know me, but I’m honored by your trust.”
“I think I do know you, Lady Vixen.” His use of Ezra’s name for her caused her pulse to flutter. “There’s courage in you, and fire. And an open heart. All rare qualities in this place, in these times, and you possess each one.”
Her lips parted, and his gaze flicked down to her mouth.
She found herself leaning closer to him, their hands still clasped. Within the frame of his dark beard, his mouth tempted her.
“Quentin’s waiting!” Ezra clipped.
Tej abruptly let go of her hand. She craved the warmth and texture of his skin immediately, but let him walk away from her just the same.
8
“If there’s only one horse,” Jessica pointed out, “I needn’t be the one riding it.”
“What kind of boors would we look like,” Ezra argued, holding the reins of the chestnut mare, “with you on foot and one of us on horseback?”
She cocked an eyebrow at him. “I wasn’t aware that highwaymen were concerned about public opinion.”
“Madam,” he said, affronted, “highwaymen are entirely concerned about public opinion. Who will write ballads about us if they think we’re churls?”
“Then none of us shall ride,” she said.
She began to walk, but stopped when Ezra didn’t follow.
He pointed in the opposite direction. “That way, jewel.”
Tipping up her chin, she marched in the course he had indicated. A moment later, he caught up with her, leading the placid horse. Rhys and Tej kept pace as they walked through the forest. There was no path here, barely even game trails, but the men moved between the trees and bracken, heading somewhere mysterious to her, but well known to them.
They were quiet as they walked, the only sounds from birds or a few creatures shifting through the undergrowth. It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence, yet she felt it all the same.
“I’m more familiar with Mile End Road or Whitechapel than I am with the woods,” she confessed. “It’s all rather…intimidating.”
“You? Intimidated by anything?” A corner of Ezra’s mouth curved up, revealing his dimple. “Three rough highwaymen you single-handedly captured. Didn’t even sneeze when you had us on the dangerous end of your pistol.”
“You let me capture you,” she felt obligated to note. “And you aren’t ordinary highwaymen. You’re werewolves.”
“At the time,” Ezra said, “you didn’t know that. It was just you, a barking iron, and a trio of infamous highwaymen. The Essex forest should be a stroll in Hyde Park for you.”
“Perhaps intimidated is the wrong word. More like…I am respectful of the forest.”
“Respect is appropriate when you’re facing something that holds to its own ancient laws. In time, given the proper deference, the woods can become your home.”
She glanced up at the leafy canopy. “I have my doubts, but I’ll have to rely on your judgment.”
“It could be,” he said. “Your home.”
Her eyebrows climbed. “London is all I know.”
“One can learn new things. New places.”
His words were light, almost insouciant. And yet there was something else beneath them. A question, a possibility.
