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He put his hands on her shoulders. “Maerose, this is not something that either of us can walk away from.” He stroked her shoulders, squeezing them gently.
The action only served to confuse her more. Her body felt riveted to the spot, as if the two of them had been melded together. Her skin was fevered from his touch, her body far too willing to melt into his arms. She shook her head again, trying to clear her thoughts. “This is madness. My place is with my sister and my brothers, my father who needs me to keep the house since my mother died."
Indignant frustration gripped her. Even so, when he looked at her with compassion in his eyes, his hands stroking her so soothingly, she had to fight the desire that burbled up inside her.
"You are meant to be here, with me, for now."
She felt the underlying force of his will, for the statement was delivered with all the directness of an order. “And who are you to decide?” she blurted. “You free me only to hold me captive again. I don't understand why. I don't understand what you mean about Samhain and the curse, about ... me."
She tore free from his grip, pushing past him, and darted across the cave. “Why does everyone keep speaking of my ‘destiny'? My destiny is in Riversbend with my family. I know nothing about the matters of which you speak.” Tears burned at the back of her eyes. She turned back, gesticulating. “You are just the same as Veldor. You want to keep me locked up, simply because it is your will to do so!"
Silence followed. She could see he was wounded by her words, both anger and remorse in his expression.
"I am not like him. This is not my will. Believe me, Maerose, I'd prefer to see you happy again, rather than this...” He hit his chest with his fist, his expression pained.
She felt the gesture within; her accusation had wounded him deeply. She quickly wiped away a frustrated tear that had escaped her.
He turned away and went to attend the fire, his back toward her as he loaded the fire with logs and poked it into life. She watched him, feeling his hurt and his resolve. Was it his magic? He constantly stirred something powerful and nameless within her, and it was confusing. The flames of the fire roared high, as did the conviction she felt welling inside him. Powerful yet dangerous, she could sense it building from across the room.
She looked at the door, wrestling with doubts and desires. How far were they from the nearest village or dwelling? How long would it be until she found another soul out here in the wilderness? Part of her wanted to stay, but the part of her that was sensible Maerose, the stalwart of her family, told her she should make haste and take flight. Why did she feel compelled to listen to a ridiculous tale of superstition and long forgotten curses anyway? As if in answer a deep part of her hummed with life and her mind returned to the image of him bending to lift her into his arms, when he had rescued her, when he had carried her through the night and brought her here. She instinctively wanted to know more of him, and yet she cursed herself for such foolish fancy.
As the thoughts battled within her, he turned back from the fire and looked at her from under hooded eyes. She dropped her gaze, but found herself looking again.
"You will understand, Maerose, you will.” He strode back to her.
The action brought heat to the surface of her skin, for it drew her attention to his manliness. A dense heat welled in the pit of her belly. She tried to drag her eyes from the sleek tautness of his chest muscles beneath his shirt. Strength and agility flickered over him. His spirit glowed within, his determination strong. She saw a hint of that which had made her think him an angel when he had come back to rescue her. It was his inner power; she saw that now.
"I want to understand you,” she murmured, suddenly helpless to resist in the face of his strength, “but ... I fear what you say. Your words confuse me."
"I know. This is no small thing we can walk away from. We have to go there, to The Strangeling.” There was an underlying note of desperation in his words.
She sensed it was not directed at her, but at the situation they found themselves in. Her emotions grew hopelessly tangled.
He fixed her with his gaze and reached out for her. His fingers traced her arms from shoulder to elbow, then tightened on her upper arms. He moved closer still. The way he held her dampened the urge to flee. Instead, she could barely think straight, fixed as she was against his body. He was so close to her that she could feel his breath warm on her face.
"Maerose, you and I are destined to confront this.” His expression was serious, and his
words were laden with the suggestion of promised intimacy. “Together."
Together. The word echoed through her mind. Deep in his eyes, she saw truth of what he said, and deep in her body she recognized it. Even if it were in her power to do so, she could not turn away. This was meant to be.
"Yes.” He rested his hands on her upper arms, drawing her in. “I will help you understand, but you must trust me."
"How will I understand?” Her voice was but a murmur.
His eyes were alight with desire, she could see it plainly now. He did not reply to her question, but traced his hands up and down the line of her arms again, sending a skittering sensation beneath her skin. Her breathing was constricted. Between her thighs, molten heat built. The proximity of his body was seducing her, his very presence crushing her need to escape. Between them was a connection so strong that she couldn't deny it.
His expression had grown dark and he looked down at her with possessive eyes. “We will be as one,” he whispered, low and husky.
His words sent a delicious shiver through her inner flesh. Her lips parted. His brooding gaze held hers. He eased her closer still. She was powerless to resist. She lifted her chin as his mouth lowered toward hers. His arms went around her as their lips met. Her eyes closed, her body melting in submission. She yielded against his mouth and pressed herself full against him; she wanted to feel every part of his being against hers. The totality of his strength and maleness enveloped her. His mouth felt strong and passionate. Her lips parted and melted beneath his touch, enmeshing her in an array of exquisite sensations. A strange new feeling hungered within her, and she pressed closer, whimpering with some nameless, innate need.
She heard him curse under his breath when she whimpered. He moved to place a kiss against the soft skin of her throat. Her hair felt heavy and unruly, and she pushed it back. He lifted his head and watched. Her skin prickled; she felt feverish. She didn't want him to stop kissing her. Tentatively, she slid one hand up to his neck; the other, she pressed flat against his chest. His hips moved against her, pressing into her body, making her feel his hard shaft through their clothing. She gasped at the sudden contact. He was aroused, his body showing her his purpose. The size of his phallus left her in no doubt. She steadied herself, weighing her body against his grasp. Her free hand had found its way inside his shirt and touched, tentatively, in a silent plea. She was awash with desire for him.
His mouth descended to hers, and he kissed her again. Her mouth invited his tongue deeper and she sank into the experience, a moan of longing escaping her as they drew apart.
He looked at her with a wild expression in his eyes and led her toward the bed, pushing her down upon it. She sat restlessly at the edge, breathing him in. He pulled the loose shirt up and over her head then grabbed her hands together, laying her back against the soft furs and hauling her arms over her head. Her blood pounded. Her shoulders were stiff, still aching from her restraints, but when her gaze met his, she knew they were both thinking of the cellar—thinking of the first time she had seen him. The connection. Her body responded to him then as now, but more wildly.
"It arouses you to see me so easily held captive in your arms?” she murmured.
