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“I’m always right.”
“Will I never learn?” She laughed.
“I’ll keep reminding you even when we’re old and gray.”
“The prophet could tell us if that will be so.”
“From what Neil tells me, this man is a powerful prophet and knows much,” Reeve said. “He may be able to help us more than we realize.”
“Have you sent for him?”
He was pleased to tell her, “He’s been sent for and should be here in a day or two.”
Tara walked over to him, laying her hand on his chest. “I am grateful.”
“So am I.”
“Grateful for the prophet?”
He shook his head and stole a kiss. “No. That our discussion is done, and I can now get you into bed.”
Chapter 34
Tara cuddled closer to Reeve, a chill creeping up and over the bed. Had they forgotten to add logs to the fire before going to bed? She smiled, recalling what she remembered of last night. Reeve had made wickedly delicious love to her, his exact words of what he had intended to do to her. And oh how he meant it.
She didn’t think there was a part of her that he hadn’t tasted, teased, or tormented with his lips, tongue, and she giggled, thinking about her favorite appendage of his that had delighted her.
Worried that she was becoming too sinful when it came to her own desires, she had confessed her concern to him. Bless him, he hadn’t laughed, he patiently explained how there was nothing wrong with her zeal to make love, and he fervently hoped that it would remain that way.
Feeling more at ease with her unquenchable desires, she had climbed on top of him and eagerly confessed that she loved riding him. He had offered to let her practice riding as much as she wanted to.
It had been a glorious wedding night though she had woke on and off checking to see that Reeve was all right, that death hadn’t claimed him. She had never had a husband survive past the wedding day, and she was hopeful that perhaps the curse wouldn’t rear its ugly head.
She suddenly recalled a dream she had during the night. She sat by a river talking with someone. She didn’t know who, she couldn’t see him clearly, though she felt she knew him. He urged her to remember, and then he told her that love had freed her, and she was so very happy. She woke after that and wondered about it and had soon returned to sleep and forgotten all about it until now.
Reeve stirred beside her, and his arms soon found their way around her and pulled her tighter against him. He nibbled along her ear. “It’s damn cold in here.”
She laughed softly. “I thought the same myself. We must have forgotten to add logs.”
“Your fault,” he said, wrapping his leg around hers. “You attacked me almost all night.”
She laughed again. “I beg your pardon, sir. It was you who scooped me up, stripped me bare, and had your way with me.”
“And what of the many times you rode me.”
Tara sighed. “I’ve had no better rides.”
Before he could respond, a sharp pounding rattled the cottage door.
“Go away,” Reeve yelled.
The door burst open, and Bryce walked in. “Damn it’s cold in here.” He rubbed his arms and went straight to the fireplace, where nothing but embers remained. “Are you trying to freeze yourselves?”
“It was stifling hot in here all night,” Reeve said.
Tara snuggled farther under the covers, which her husband pulled up to her neck.
“There’s a problem,” Bryce said, standing after the fire began roaring.
