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"And this?" she said, her hand dipping lower.

"Oh, aye. And—and—ah, Dee, that, too ... especially that."

She pulled her hand away. "And if I said to stop now...?"

"Then we would go to sleep," he said, his voice a little ragged. "Together, if ye like, or I could leave. 'Tis for you to say."

She drew both hands down his arms, then bent and nipped his bottom lip, her breasts crushed against his chest and her hair falling softly about his face. "But I thought that once a man got started on this sort of thing, he could not stop."

"Some men, perhaps," Alistair said, his breath coming more quickly as the sweet curve of her bottom shifted against him. "Not me."

She kissed his neck, then traced her tongue lightly over the curve of his ear. The feel of her warm breath sent a shiver racing through his body when she spoke again, a hint of laughter in her voice. "You sound very sure of yourself."

She sat up, shaking the hair out of her face, and he stifled a moan as she deliberately rolled her hips.

"I am. Quite. Sure."

She took his hands and brought them to her lips, then laid them on her breasts. He caressed her, fingers trailing lightly over her taut nipples, lingering on the curve of her waist and the flare of her hips. She began to move against him, tentatively at first and then with deepening excitement as she began to understand her power over both of them.

"You are so lovely, Dee," he whispered harshly. "Ye canna know."

She shifted and for a moment Alistair thought his heart would burst as he felt them on the verge of joining. He began to reach for her, but her voice halted him.

"If I said this was enough...? she asked breathlessly.

"'Twould be...enough. But please, ah, God, Dee..."

He groaned as she lowered herself slightly.

"And this?" she insisted. "Would you still stop if I asked it?"

He nodded, beyond speech now, and turned his face into the crook of one arm, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he fisted his hands in the coverlet. Gently but insistently, she turned his face to hers and looked into his eyes, and oh, God, he couldn't wait, not now, but still she hesitated and sweet Jesus, what did she want from him?

He did not know how he managed it, but he lay unmoving, and just as he was certain he could not bear another moment, she found whatever she sought in his eyes. He held her gaze, gasping with a pleasure so intense it was inseparable from pain when finally, drawing out the torment almost past endurance, she took him inside her.

He waited, barely breathing, as she grew accustomed to him. Heart pounding, hands clenched, certain he would die at any moment, he let her take her pleasure of him.

But it was worth it. Oh, God, it was worth it all, for he had never seen anything so beautiful as Deirdre at this moment; cheeks flushed, lips parted in a soft moan as her eyes fell shut and she lost herself entirely. She threw back her head, her back arched; he saw the flush spread down her neck, felt the silken brush of her hair against his thighs...

"Now, Alistair," she cried. "Now. Come to me."

His own cry mingled with hers as he thrust deep inside her, and at last, at last they came together, bodies taut and straining, and she was able to accept all he had to give her with a joy he felt more keenly than his own.

Later they lay curled together, Alistair's head resting on her breast, his legs twined with hers. It wasn't possible to be this happy, Deirdre thought. And yet she was.

"There are so many things I understand now," she said, not realizing she spoke aloud until he stirred and kissed the hollow between her breasts, then lifted his head to look into her face.

"Such as?"

"Oh, the songs and stories," she answered vaguely, "things people said..."

His hair was tousled, his eyes sleepy, and he looked very young and vulnerable.

"They said things about you, Jennie Maxwell and the others. One said that you knew how to pleasure a lass and she laughed—"

That girl had seen him like this, Deirdre realized with a sharp stab of jealousy, had held him in her arms and felt his warmth against her.

"You did this—with her—and others, too," she added, surprised and a little angry, unfair as she knew that to be. She remembered the girl's curling brown hair and bright blue eyes, the way she had blushed and laughed as she talked about the night she had spent with Alistair. But I could never laugh about this, never, Deirdre thought, suddenly desolate and alone.