To Eternity (3 page)

“We'll go to get coffee now.” He ushered her along toward the doors at the back of the hall.

“Propaganda is a strong word to use. Explain what you mean about the picture?”

As ever, his smile moderated his gaunt air. “The sweet virgin queen was in her fifties when
The Rainbow Portrait
was made, an age when many women of the era were already dead or contemplating their demise.”

“But she looks so beautiful, so… Oh, Magnus, was she?”

“No. Queen Elizabeth made sure her portrait painters worked to her specifications. If their work didn't fit her desired image, the paintings were never made public, thus preserving the goddess myth.” He squeezed her half-gloved fingers tight as he gave a low chuckle. “As far as I am aware, none of my genus has ever taken a place on the British throne.”

“Hmm. I still think she must have been very beautiful. The way she manipulated the media of her day was awesome. Clever.” She linked her arm through his, glanced up to once again admire his profile, the set of his jaw, his sensual lips, the strong cheekbones, each lured her the same way today as they had the morning they met. No man could compare with this one. He was all hers, at least for now, and she'd do her damndest to make sure it stayed that way.

They entered the coffee shop. She took a seat at a table looking out onto autumnal gardens and he went to the counter. Several female heads turned as he passed. She couldn't fault the women for their admiration, and he didn't seem to notice their interest.

Magnus joined her, placing the tray with coffee and slices of walnut cake on the table. He set out the cups. She added cream and sugar. “I'm glad we came here. I like it,” she said, sipping her coffee. “There are some fabulous places for a still camera shoot.”

“I don't know about that, but I'm glad we came here, too. The grounds are magnificent.”

“There's a kind of permanency to it.”

“No,” he murmured. “I can't feel such a quality here. We'd need to travel a little farther to find such a thing.”

“Farther? Could we?”

Magnus stared across the table at her, his expression guarded as he set the cake fork down. “Yes, we could, but not today. We'll visit the chapel. You'll like it, I'm sure. The stained glass is exquisite.”

He'd distanced himself again. After finishing her coffee, she left him at the table for a few moments. Attending to herself in the ladies' lavatory, she understood the reason for his intent focus on the grounds. In his effort to ignore her menstruation, he had pinpointed a laser beam of concentration to their surroundings instead. Perhaps another day or so, but goodness, how she longed for this month's period to finish.

Magnus, wearing a light colored mackintosh that emphasized his height over the other visitors, waited for her in front of the large window at the entrance to the café. His smile of greeting dissolved her, sending her senses reeling.

“Sorry if I kept you waiting. Chapel now?”

“Yes. You'll enjoy it. After, we'll take a walk to find the oaks. I need a reminder of their power.”

A reminder? What did he mean?

The chapel proved as beautiful as he'd said. The exquisite stained glass captivated her. The delicacy the craftsmen of a distant age had created spoke of eternally relevant emotions, hopes, and fears.

“Are you ready to go?” she finally asked after they'd stood to admire the windows.

He took her hand in his to lead her out into the autumnal sunlight. She stretched her paces as he hurried her down the path. A fitful breeze swirled leaves, creating a flurry of shadow dancers in the afternoon light.

She breathed fast in the effort to match his swift long stride. “Is there a reason to hurry?”

“No, I wanted to wake myself up a little.” He slowed his steps. His eyes gleamed as he turned to her. “It's good to taste the fresh air.”

A shiver raced down her spine. Somehow, his mood had changed. She fought off the desire to run, to sprint off toward the distant trees, offering him the challenge to catch her. The last time she'd felt like this they'd shared the kind of lovemaking she'd thought just fantasy. “Magnus?”

“No,” he replied. “I want you to see the trees. Once you have, we'll talk about permanence.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. You know why.” His gaze fixed on hers. “Help me, please, don't tease. It's not a good idea, not today.”

She longed to roll with him in the bed of leaves, but the image in her mind closed under the shutter of his words
.
Another time. Another day. She focused on the trees, all of them beautiful in the last phase of this year's leaf. “I've never seen such magnificent colors or such shapes.”

“These are probably the oldest oak trees in the grounds. They've had lots of time to grow in the way they wish.” Tucking her hand through the crook of his arm, he smiled. “Some of these are century's old, one or two may be more ancient still.”

Looking up to his smile, she nodded. His need to feel a part of time should be fed. Perhaps she might find a way. Now he'd mentioned it, she'd work hard to try to arrange a visit to Egypt for them. He'd traveled in his youth and could again. Surely, in Egypt he'd have a sense of time greater than his own.

“Yes, that would be an adventure we both might enjoy.” He strode on beside her.

“You heard my thought?”

“Did I?”

“Yes, I didn't say anything aloud, yet you answered me.”

He nodded. “I did tell you our link would deepen.”

“Yes.” She stifled the new rash of concerns this brought. “So you did.”

Chapter 3

Heartbeat pounding, he raced over the mossy grass toward the slender figure who headed into the dense thicket of trees. Pale like moonlight, her slim legs moved fast as quicksilver. How he'd delight in stroking the satin smooth flesh of her thighs, teasing in between when he caught her. And catch her he would. When he did, she'd plead for his forgiveness, promise she'd never run again. He'd believe her, of course, until the next time.

The widening gaze, her eyes shining bright as she glanced over her shoulder before taking her first step into the shadows, increased his expectations. She filled him with determination. This tempting minx would howl for him.

How her dreams thrilled him. This one was proving as delightful as the others she'd gifted to him and allowed him to share. Full of life, vitality, and Sian, always Sian, no other woman had ever, or could ever, torment him in the delicious way she did.

The close-knit trees, with thick shadowy undergrowth, slowed his rapid paces to match hers.

A gentle breath, one not his own, told him where she hid. Less than an arm's length from him he caught a flash of the pale dress. He ducked down into the undergrowth at the base of a tall chestnut tree. Amber, ochre, rust, and orange, the autumn woodland colors complimented his mate's pure beauty. Her brandy wine, corkscrew curls cascaded over her shoulders. The rich, creamy lace gown clung tight to her slender waist, molded to her rounded buttocks. She clutched a frothy curdle at the front of the ankle length skirt up above her knees to lessen the impediment of her dress in her barefoot attempt to escape him. All of her image sent his blood rolling in eager excitement. He took a deep breath to force himself to calm. Sian knew him well enough to provoke his desire with ease. This little fantasy lured him toward the culmination hot and hard.

Her calves formed solid muscles as she stood on tiptoe. She took a step, then two more as she hiked the skirt higher. Her slender thighs elongated with her movement, sent a shiver of desire through him.

She glanced from side to side, taking a slow examination of her surroundings. Her breasts moved in the rapid rhythm of quarry at bay. His palms itched to soothe her torment, to tease her nipples until she whimpered. He smiled, for she seemed to have no idea he crouched so near. Her arousing aroma reached him, quickening his pulse. A tiny stir in the air from her body heat alerted him when she took a step closer.

The snap of a twig, as he moved his weight onto his front foot, sent her into flight like a hind from the hunter. She dashed off with a low cry. He paced after her, for memory told him the name and fame of this place. Strange that the woods of Symonds Yat would appear in her dream. She must have a memory of this famous beauty spot. He smiled again.

The escarpment's edge was bounded by a wide swath of forest. Below the top ledge were several more levels in hefty graduated steps, each set with more woodland until the final outcrop offered the courageous a place to plunge into the deep river, carving its way through the valley. She'd left herself no room to maneuver. Run as she might, she would only find a descent she'd rather not make without wings.

She'd flown, but in a machine. Might she fly in their dreams? What a thought. He increased his pace as he followed her, more eager than ever to see what she might do. The autumnal sun still held heat. He scanned the bracken-trimmed cliff top.

“Magnus!”

The cry sped him onward. He dashed along the ledge in search for her.

“Help.”

The call held no real distress or fear. Another feint from her. She had the delightful capacity to dissemble like any eighteenth century Venetian courtesan. He could do nothing more than love her—stealthy, clever, and provoking as she was.

At the next shriek, he paused to look down. There, some way below where he stood, Sian's white-knuckled hands clutched a thick tree root protruding from the black soil of the bank. He could also see a small ledge under her foot supporting her weight.

“Ah, so helpless,” he said as he ambled along. “I have to say, there are times when I worry about your psyche.” He crouched, reaching forward to grasp her.

“I slipped.”

A smile to delight him curved her cheek as he caught her beneath the arms and hauled her up. Once she stood on solid ground, he covered her mouth with his and lowered his hands until her sweet rounded ass sat in his palms. With her caught fast in his embrace, he swept at the back of her skirt to brush off the dirt, until she squirmed and whimpered in their kiss.

“I'm afraid, sometimes your desire to be captive is too much for me to refuse,” he explained before he gave her a hearty swat.

Green diamond bright, her widened gaze met his. Her lips parted with a gasp of surprise. The trees took on a hazy hue; the leaves falling to the forest floor became mere smudges of brown such as a child might paint. “Do you wish me to take control of the dream?” he asked before he kissed the warmth of her neck.

“No.”

She angled her head, caught his lips, and took them captive with hers. The delight of her kiss swept away any need for further words. Abandoning their kiss, he hoisted her in his embrace, stepping away from the ledge. Her small feet scrambled in the leaf litter, as he backed her fast into the smooth bulk of an ash tree's trunk. He hauled the delicate lace gown up as he pinned her in place. He wedged one thigh between hers, nudging and rolling against her pussy. His cock swelled solid in four heartbeats, eager for her. He molded his palm to her breast, enjoying the rigid lump of her nipple. “Now or later?”

She gave a small groan.

Answer enough for him.

His blood sang in his ears, for she wore no knickers. She hooked her thigh high and tight around his, clutched him closer. He needed no more encouragement. Fingers working quickly, he unlaced the hide breeches to free his erection to seek its warm, moist quarry.

“Oh, God.” She stilled as he sought her entrance. “Magnus, there, oh, yes.”

He held back for a second.

“Now, please. Oh, please.” She tilted her hips to try to guide him inside.

Triumph warmed his chest at her pitiful whimper. “Are you sorry you ran?” he asked, before he smothered her mouth with his, drowning her attempt at a reply. He shoved his erection deep into her with one smooth lurch forward.

Sian clasped his shoulders with her fingers digging deep. Her sweet pussy welcomed him inside. She gave a low throaty moan.

Pleasure.

Hot delight.

Perfect.

Wonderful.

He pulled back from her. “You are all mine,” he said, holding on as she arched back against the tree, grinding her hips to his. The swift pulses inside her took him hard and fast. Orgasm raged, stole consciousness, breath, so everything dissolved in pleasure. He clung to the light with one fingertip as his body powered into hers to give her everything he could.

Together, they sank down from the smooth ash tree onto the bed of silky grass.

* * * *

Clasping his face between her palms, Sian kissed him. Still locked together, they rolled on the rumpled bed. “Magnus,” she gasped. She relaxed in his arms, the sensual pleasure of the dream rolling though her until she closed her drowsy eyes.

“Reality challenges our dreams. I need you.”

His erection swelled inside her. The thick hardness engorged to make her catch her breath. Lifting himself up onto his arms, he eased in and out of her. He probed. His eyes glittered. The spark she found in his gaze added to the tingles. She reached up to caress the firm muscles of his shoulders before she wrapped her arms around his neck. His first deep thrust made her eager for more. He took up a rapid pounding pace that forced her down into the mattress with each reentry.

He'd never been like this before. His deliberate movements gave no allowance for her to dictate their pace. Tonight, she'd no choice but be receptive. He pummeled her, obliterated any thought she might have but him. She closed her eyes, her rapid breath racing with his.

Orgasm clenched her muscles so she clasped him tight inside her, to fight to hold his hot flood deep within. She dissolved into blissful perfection. “I adore you,” she moaned. His flow slowed, and she eased her thighs clamped on his waist.

His heavy breaths hid any words she could recognize, but his satisfied groan filled her with pleasure. Closing her eyes, she drifted on a tide of satisfaction.

* * * *

Sian woke to light spilling in from between the wide curtains. Moving her stiff limbs, she spread her thighs so she could pull back to ease away from him. He mumbled in his sleep. Sighing, she sank down with a soft moan, and eased her aching muscles. Good God, she'd spent months doing yoga, but tonight it hadn't helped at all.

Was an all night lock with your partner wolfie or tantric? Who the heck knew? He'd sure made her wonder.

Her wish for a chase through the woods when they had visited Hatfield began all this. She'd enticed him in the dream she'd led, but perhaps she'd not repeat the scenario for a while. The low sound of her name spread contented warmth through her
.
Turning toward him, she hooked her leg over his and rested her arm about his waist. She sprawled onto her stomach to go back to sleep.

A fresh call of “
Sian
” pried into her peace. A shiver raced down her spine, but she fought off the enticement to another dream, because this one came from someone other than Magnus. The screechy voice was somehow familiar. It belonged to someone with glossy dark hair and cold eyes, a person who yelled so loud the noise grew to painful howls. Silly, it couldn't be Franklyn. He couldn't call to her, not from the rest home. Another shriek echoed but she ignored it.

As if she'd dream with a howler. Too tired to consider more about the interruption in her thoughts, she edged closer to Magnus's warmth.

He tightened his arm about her and sleep blotted out everything else.