The last tie whispered free. His hand slid underneath her yellow gown to her linen shift, and closed over one of her breasts. She gasped.
He groaned. "Ah, love."
His thumb rubbed over her nipple. Heat shot down between her legs. Sensation so sharp and urgent, she cried out.
He bowed his head. Swore between his teeth.
He caught her gown, pulling it up to her thighs.
"Fane?"
"Let me lead," he begged, even as his fingers searched through the layers of bliaut and shift. "Let me give you pleasure. Let me show you this dance between man and woman."
A draft, then his hands, brushed her inner thigh. She started. As he touched her sex, she jumped again. "Oh!"
"You like this? '
Tis
only the beginning." His skilled fingers worked the nub of nerves. Each sensation was more delicious than the first. Saints above. She could scarce breathe. Her eyes squeezed shut.
Through the exquisite haze, she became aware of him shifting to one side. He fumbled with his garments. The points of his hose popped. He shifted again, and then his warm maleness brushed the place where his hand had been.
Her eyes flew open.
His snarled hair hung down beside his taut jaw. His gaze smoldered. His mouth tensed, as though it took great restraint to hold still above her. Leaning forward, he brushed his lips over hers in a rough kiss. He nibbled her bottom lip and his hardness glided against her. Teased. Tempted.
An intense thrill seared through her. His flesh felt smooth against hers. She wanted more. She wanted to taste the wildness his body promised. With a greedy moan, she tilted her hips up.
He pressed forward.
Pain stabbed between her legs. Pressure. Her entire body tensed, and her breath jammed in her throat.
He groaned. "You feel wondrous. Perfect."
Perfect
? "Ouch. Fane?"
With utmost tenderness, he kissed her and nuzzled her cheek. "The pain will fade, I promise." He slowly withdrew, then gently eased forward again. "At last, love, you are mine."
His strangled tone washed through her. Reassurance and pleasure warmed her soul as she blinked away tears. No man had spoken to her with the desperation, honesty, and love she heard in Fane's voice.
"And you are mine," she murmured and touched his cheek.
He stilled, as though surprised by her words, then smiled. "I am."
He thrust again. The pain dimmed, fading to an elusive craving.
He began a slick rhythm that erased all memory of discomfort. Delicious heat filled her hips, belly, and limbs, right to the tips of her fingers.
It grew. Grew. Grew.
A new, intoxicating pressure built between her legs. Fane's breath hissed between his teeth. His hair brushed her face. She tossed her head and curled her hips into his thrusts. Restless. Needy.
Her fingers clawed into the grass and violets beneath her.
"Do you feel the wildness, Rexana?" he rasped above her.
"Aye." She stared up into his dark, hungry eyes.
Heat flared.
She dragged in a breath. Once. Twice.
"Fane . . . !" Sensation exploded.
He stiffened above her. A growl wrenched from him. The harsh, primitive sound filled her with wonder.
Her body throbbed, again and again. As the pulses faded, she unclenched her hands from the crushed grass. The fresh glade air filled her lungs. She smelled the musky scent of aroused male, sweat, and violets. Bittersweet pleasure stirred within her.
Now, she was his. Body, heart and soul.
Fane dropped his face into the warm cradle between Rexana's neck and shoulder. He listened to the wind sigh around them, the birds chatter, and her slowing breaths.
Rexana smelled wonderful. Sated.
His blood cooled. His body purred.
He lay there for some moments, savoring the scent of her. Contentment flooded through him. He had succeeded in wooing her. She had finally accepted the Tightness of their marriage. He prayed she did not have virgin regrets.
She swallowed.
Steeling himself against her tears, he braced himself up on one elbow to look down at her. A blush stained her face. The enticing rosy hue ran all the way down her throat to her gown's neckline. With a sting of regret, he realized they were both still fully clothed. In the mad rush to have her, he had not even taken the time to undress her.
She looked away, so he brushed a finger down her cheek.
"Are you well?"
A smile touched her mouth. "
Mmm
."
" 'Twas pleasurable for you, our coupling?"
She stirred beneath him. "Most pleasurable." Frowning, she added, "Though I did not expect to be dressed."
Heat warmed his cheekbones. "I was impatient."
"Indeed?" Her smile turned wry before she pressed her hands against his shoulders, an entreaty for him to move. He rolled off her into the violets, and she sat up.
She righted her creased gown and fumbled with the loosened ties, then threw up her hands in dismay.
"The birds do not care that your bliaut is unfastened."
She flipped her straggly braid over her shoulder and looked at him. "They would not care if I were nude."
He wagged his eyebrows. "True."
Her flush deepened. A spark lit her eyes, a moment before she stood. "I am going down to the water to bathe."
"I will come too."
She did not answer, but walked toward the glinting pool. He pushed to his feet, fastening his hose.
As Rexana trampled a path through the grass, her body swayed. He smiled. She moved like a woman who had experienced her own sensual power. Who had tasted love, and knew it to be good.
Raking a hand through his snarled hair, he followed her. She kicked off her shoes and stepped barefoot into the mud. She hesitated, stared down at the gray-green water, then hugged her arms over her breasts.
Sunlight washed over her profile. She looked ravishing, yet also vulnerable. Fane stepped down into the mud and, before he cautioned himself, wrapped his arms around her waist. A tremor rippled through her.
He nuzzled the back of her neck. "Love?"
She sighed.
"You cannot regret our coupling."
"I do not. 'Twas what I wanted. Yet —"
He looked down at the glassy reflection of them together. "Here, in this glade, we think only of our pleasure. Not what has been, or what must be."
Her body tensed. " '
Tis
not so simple a decision for me."
Pushing aside her braid, he nipped her skin. "Nay?"
She shuddered. Heat shot through his loins. His manhood pulsed. Hardened. Again, he craved the luscious taste and feel of her, the velvety warmth of her body encasing him.
Before he could kiss her again, she wiggled free of his arms. She reached down, caught her bliaut and shift, and whisked them over her head. Light played over her naked back, and the fetching curves of her bottom.
The air shot from his lungs. In his wildest imaginings, he had not come close to her true beauty.
Sweeping wispy hair from her cheek, she partly turned toward him. A mischievous smile touched her mouth. "You are impatient again, milord. This time, you must wait."
He growled. "I will not."
She laughed. Ran into the water. Dove under with a splash.
His blood thumped with challenge. He groped for his clothing. Cursed his clumsy hands. He yanked off his tunic and shirt and, as he hopped out of his hose and boots, saw her surface at the far edge of the pool near a cluster of rocks and a fallen, gnarled tree.
She blew water from her lips, then brushed hair from her face. As she turned to glance at him, he charged, roaring, into the pool.
Her eyes widened. She submerged.
Fane opened his eyes in the water. She swam ahead of him, past a school of fish that darted in and out of the light, their backs glinting like bits of silver. He kicked hard. Pulled his arms through the water. Closed the space between them. Caught her ankle, and yanked her to him.
She surfaced in his arms. Splashing. Squawking. Water droplets glinted on her eyelashes.
"Fie! How did you cross so qui—"
He smothered her words with a kiss. She resisted for an instant, then, with a
mewl, softened into his embrace.