Confusion flooded through her. Yearning. Desire. Need.
She spun faster. Faster.
Her back arched. Her arms stretched.
She twirled, faster again.
"Rexana."
Had she imagined Fane's voice? Panting, she stumbled to a halt. Her pulse thundered like a galloping horse. As she swept hair from her face, she saw him.
Fane walked at the glade's edge, holding the destrier's reins in one hand. With unhurried strides, he led the horse toward the pool. Sunlight gleamed on his windswept hair and touched the firm set of his mouth.
His head tilted, and his gaze locked with hers. His expression held not anger or scorn, but acceptance. Knowing. A promise that what happened now, between them, was inevitable.
"W - Why did you come here?"
A faint smile touched his lips. "You brought me here."
Resentment gnawed at her. "This is my place. I never wished you to find it."
The destrier's hooves sank into the soft muddy bank. The horse dipped its head to the water to drink. Fane chuckled, released the reins and looked at her. "You speak false, love. You wanted to be chased. I have caught you."
She gasped. "I did not —"
"Now, you lie to yourself."
A fierce trembling racked her body. The leaves overhead shifted, as the little voice inside her murmured in agreement. He spoke true. A secret part of her had wanted him to catch her. A part of her had led him here to fulfill his promise.
As she struggled to control her thoughts, his gaze flicked around the glade, then settled on her. " '
Tis
a fine place to make love." His voice sounded almost reverent. "I could not have chosen better myself."
Tangled emotions warred inside her. "I did not bring you here to fornicate," she cried. "I meant to run from you."
With a laugh that sounded almost tender, he set his hands upon his hips. "You really thought you could run from me and our marriage?"
"Why not?"
"Where did you think to go? You are my wife. Our marriage is legal, and we are well known throughout this county. Wherever you tried to hide, I would find you."
She fisted her hands. "I could seek refuge in a nunnery."
His grin widened. "You would make a rotten nun."
She arched an eyebrow. "Indeed?"
"You are not a woman who would enjoy endless hours of prayer, or a life constrained by religious rule. Not to mention celibacy." He winked. "You are a woman of passion and wild joys. A woman to be loved, cherished, and treasured by a man."
His words warmed her like molten sunlight. Pleasure shimmered through her.
Shaking her head, she fought the traitorous pull. "Milord, you are a rogue." Despite her intended scorn, her words came out in a breathless rush. She sounded like a woman intrigued. Tempted to the point of desperation.
He took a step closer. "I mean every word."
Her pulse skittered, then pounded at a faster rhythm. "Do not play with me. You married me for my noble blood. You wanted the prestige of my family name."
"I cannot deny that is true, but—"
"You never wanted me for who I really am."
A sigh exploded from his lips. "Rexana, I wanted you from the moment I saw you dance." His gaze sharpened with a hunger that shot deep inside her. "I saw your soul that night in my hall. I wanted you then. I want you now. God's teeth, have you any idea how much I desire you?"
Warmth flooded between her thighs. Her legs quivered. She struggled against her melting, yielding body. "My brother —"
"Nay. You will not hide behind your loyalty to him. He has no part in this. He made his own choices. He is responsible for his own fate. This matter is between you and me." As Fane spoke, he moved closer again. He halted before her. His breath warmed her brow. He did not touch her, yet she felt his body's powerful sexual aura. It wove itself around her. It drew her, like a vine, to him.
Her body screamed for his touch.
Oh, God. One touch, and she would be his.
He stared down into her face. Softly, so softly, he said, "What do
you
want, Rexana? Do you want to run? Do you want out of our marriage? Or are you curious to see how wondrous it can be between us?"
Her last, unraveling shred of reason warned she should not heed his entreaty. That she should stay true to her goal of an annulment. That she should resist the sensual web his words wove around her, grab her skirts, and run.
Yet, reason faded in the wake of another, more vibrant cry. One that tempted her like a potent nectar. It said that Fane was her destiny. All that had happened since Rudd's imprisonment had led to this one, pivotal moment.
A primitive rhythm seemed to flow up from the ground beneath her feet. The same rhythm echoed in the breeze, pushed up through every stalk of grass, quivered in each tiny, fragrant violet. It pulsed through her veins, heady as sap, to pool in her womb. The ancient magic coaxed. Tempted. Enlightened. She had not realized before now that every time she had danced in despair and loneliness, she had danced for him.
"What do
you
want?" he whispered again, his words hot on her skin. "What does your heart say?"
Tears dampened her eyes. Did she dare tell him that she desired him, with a passion that excited yet frightened her? How could she want him, when he sought to persecute her brother?
Yet, the spell of the ancient place pulled at her.
Wooed. Infused her with hunger.
He raised his hand, so his fingers hovered over her heart. "Here, now, your lineage does not matter. You are not a titled lady, fettered by tutoring and civility. You are the untamed, stubborn, incredibly beautiful woman who lives in your soul."
His fingers brushed her bliaut, just above her cleavage. "That is the woman I saw in your dance. The woman I love."
"Love?" Joy swelled within her.
He nodded. "Let me show you how much."
His fingers slid across her breast. Heat blazed on her skin. Her eyelids fluttered. As her body arched into his caress, he pulled her into his arms. His hard loins thrust against her womanhood, and the wanting inside her flared.
"Oh, Fane. Aye!"
"Rexana, how I love you."
"Show me," she whispered. "I am willing."
His lips swept down on hers in firm possession. He squeezed her tight. He held her as though he feared she might slip away. As though he would never let her.
A sigh rushed between her teeth. His mouth left hers to nibble a path across her jaw.
She shivered. "You tease."
"I seduce," he growled against her tingling skin.
His hands skimmed down to her bottom, and she wriggled against his hardness. He groaned and inhaled sharply.
"I shall seduce too," she murmured.
"Careful, love. Our dance will finish before it has properly begun."
"Why?" She squirmed out of his arms. "You must take the lead in this dance?"
His words rumbled low in his throat. "After the first time, you may lead. Aye?"
"If you wish."
"Good." He reached for her, his face stark with need. On instinct, she stepped backward. Grass heads brushed against her hands. He pursued, and she laughed.
She had taken no more than two steps, when he pounced. He pushed her down, cushioning her fall. She landed on her bottom in the lush grass. She half giggled, half squealed, as he dropped to his knees, prowled onto her, then pressed her onto her back. Nibbling the side of her cheek, he rolled her over, his limbs entwined with hers. The sweet scents of crushed grasses, flowers, and the spicy musk of man filled her senses.
Over and over they rolled. Kissing. Touching. Laughing. At last, she fell still, her head pillowed in a patch of violets.
Breathing hard, he settled himself over her. He grinned. "You are a fetching sight with your hair full of grass."
She feigned a frown. "And you are a barbarian, husband, for tossing me to the ground."
He chuckled. His mouth caught hers in a slow, wet kiss.
Moaning, she reached up to tangle her fingers through his silky hair. The kiss deepened. His tongue meshed with hers in a steady, sensual rhythm. Her womb pulsed with a similar beat.
He shuddered. "I cannot wait much longer."
"Nor can I."
He smiled. As his fingers slid to her
bliaut's
ties, a tremor rippled through her, rattling the haze of pleasure. What did she have to do? Would her first experience hurt?
She shifted beneath him. "Will it —"
"
Shhh
, love. I will be gentle." He shook. "Though, by God, 'twill be a valiant effort."