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He knelt between her parted thighs, looking down at her, and she blushed more intensely as she saw the heat in his eyes, the intent. ‘I cannot think of anywhere I would rather be,’ he said, lowering himself over her, taking just enough weight on his elbows that she was conscious of every hard-muscled inch of his body.
‘Love me,’ she whispered as he eased into her, inch by aching inch.
‘Always,’ he said against her lips as she curled her legs around his hips to take him as deep as she could. ‘Always.’
And when he brought her to the peak of delight he stayed with her, driving her higher and higher until she was sobbing his name as he lost all control, lost in her body, lost in her love.
‘Sweetheart?’ Marcus stirred drowsily, reaching out a long arm to pull Nell down against his body. ‘What is the time?’
‘Nine.’
‘Nine?’ He sat bolt upright, blinking in the morning light. ‘Aren’t you hungry?’
‘No.’ Nell shook her head, sat up too and carried on carefully pulling threads out of the remnants of the silken cord and sorting them by colour on the white bedspread.
‘What are you doing?’
She turned her head and smiled at him. His hair was rumpled, his chin deeply shadowed with his morning beard and his grey eyes were heavy lidded from a night when they had taken little time for sleep. He was beautiful and he was going to be her husband.
‘We are going to make a new family out of the pain of two old ones,’ she said, hoping she could explain, hoping he would understand. ‘Perhaps one day I will find Nathan and Rosalind, but…’An image of Nathan’s face as she had last seen it, sharp with intelligence and sinful secrets, seemed to shimmer before her and was gone.
‘We will create a new love to heal the wounds,’ Marc murmured, lifting her hair to kiss the hollow under her collarbone.
Yes, he understands. ‘These are so lovely.’ Nell held up the vivid threads that clung to her hand with a life of their own. ‘I am going to embroider my wedding veil with them. Hearts and flowers, not pain and death.’
‘You would make something beautiful out of all that hate and fear,’ Marc murmured, turning her face for his kiss.
‘I don’t remember ever being this happy.’ The silken threads fell from her fingers as she held him to her heart.
‘I swear,’ Marc said against her lips, ‘that, if you will trust me with your heart, you will say that every day of your life.’
‘I trust you,’ Nell said. ‘With my life, with my heart and with my love. We have made a new foretelling, one that will come true, one that will last for our children’s children.’
‘In that case,’ Marcus said, kissing his way down to where her heart beat so strongly for him, ‘we had better make a start on the first of those children, don’t you think?’
‘Oh, yes,’ Nell murmured, and it was the last coherent thing she said for quite a while.
