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Behind their amber lenses, his dark eyes focused on me. “She seemed upset by the idea that the Council would try to make you move to the city,” I said.
He turned back to the fire. “Maybe it’s time I went.”
“Well, if you do, I hope you’ll let me be your guide.” I responded to his somber tone with levity. Saying the words, however, proved to me how very much I meant them.
Embarrassed by the strength of my feelings, I put a hand on his shoulder and pushed myself up to my feet. “Where’s the bedroll?” My voice had a husky edge, adding to my self-consciousness.
He rose, too, and by the light of witchfire and the grate, we spread out the sleeping mat and blanket. I did convince him to take off his cloak, and soon we were laying together in our underthings, covered by the quilt.
I rested my head on Rafe’s shoulder, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. “We should sleep while we can,” I murmured. “Tomorrow will ask more from us than we have to give.”
“Your friend, Rutger…”
“MyfriendRutger.” I gave the word careful emphasis and took a measured breath. “We worked together in the liaison office.”
“He called you Vince.”
I winced. He’d noticed. “You could call me Vince, too. Some of my friends do.”
He was silent for a while. “I prefer Vincent.”
I nodded against his chest and he brought his arm around my shoulder, holding me tighter against his body. As if it had a mind of its own, my hand caressed his chest, my fingers teasing the sparse dark hair.
“I still have moments when I think this isn’t possible.”
I nipped his skin. “It is. Granted, it’s not as ordinary as if one of us was a woman, but so long as we keep private things private, we’ll be all right.”
Another silence, long enough for me to feel suspended in time. I’d let the witchlights go out, so the glowing coals were our only illumination. The wind threw an occasional spatter of rain at the windows, but without the terrifying force of this afternoon. My prick was at half mast, my desire simmering, content for now with closeness and quiet.
“Have you ever lain like this with Rutger?”
The question sounded like a sour note. Not because I’d have to lie, but because it brought up memories of drunken fumbling in places I’d rather not remember. “No,” I said, telling the absolute truth. “I’ve never lain like this with Rutger.”
“Good.” With no more warning than that, Rafe rolled over top of me, bracketing me with his arms. “Assuming we make it through tomorrow, I’d like to do this again.” He kissed me, hard. “And again.” Another kiss, and this time he nipped my lower lip. “And again.”
I found I had no argument for that, and my simmering desire boiled over. We clutched each other, forehead to forehead, grinding our cocks together. Our kisses had an element of attack, our shared passion burning hotter than the fire in the grate. Again, Rafe created a barrier between us and anything harmful, a shield against the outside world.
I held him as he grew rigid, his climax dragging a harsh cry from him, and he did the same for me. Yes, there was mess to clean up and the only water was not too many steps from ice, but later, laying in his arms with sleep closing in, I sent up a prayer to the Father or the Mother or whoever was listening, thanking her for this moment right here and right now.
It seemed we’d barely fallen asleep when Della raised a cry. “The light’s off again. Rafe? Margaret? Someone come. The light’s out.”
Rafe was up and dressing before my sleep-fuddled mind comprehended Della’s meaning. The coals had burned low and the windows were still dark. Setting off a witchlight, I followed Rafe’s example, though he left before I’d managed to button my trousers. My pocket watch said it was nearly four, though it felt even earlier.
I’d promised Rafe this day would ask a lot from us, and it appeared I’d spoken the truth.
We found Della on the lawn. Overhead, the lighthouse tower was a darker shadow in the night. Any moonlight was blotted out by clouds and even the drag and rush of the waves sounded sullen.
“Margaret reset the winding mechanism before bed,” Della said. “It shouldn’t have stopped so soon.”
Wordlessly, Rafe headed for the tower door, and all of us trooped up the stairs to the top level. There we found a smoking ruin where the winding mechanism had been.
“What on earth?” Della cried. We all stood and stared, as if transfixed by the damage.
“Impossible,” Rafe murmured. “No one could have broken through the shielding spell.”
Della reached toward the burned remnants of the mechanism. “Someone must have.”
“Impossible.” Rafe ran a hand over the scorch marks without touching anything. “There are remnants of magic.” Fisting both hands, he all but shouted, “No one could have broken through that spell.”
