“A reward?” she cooed, giving him a saucy wink.
He opened his mouth to speak, and then shut it again, growing somber.
It seemed to Felicity she’d just witnessed some inner light flickering, then winking out.
“Wait.” She stopped. “What’s the matter?”
“There’s naught that’s—”
“Don’t you naught me, William Rollo. You just thought something. Something not good, and I want to know what it was.”
“It’s only . . .”
“Only?” she demanded.
“It’s only that we cannot . . . We should not lie together again.”
“What?” She rounded on him. “That’s crazy talk. Why the hell not? You didn’t just save me from some deranged kidnapper only to . . . Wait.” She thought she knew what this was about. Her good, old-fashioned, noble Viking. “Is it that you think we should get married first, because—”
At the mention of marriage, she saw something in him die. She saw the despair, and she knew.
“You’re going to send me back, aren’t you?” she asked him quietly.
He gave her a silent, grim nod.
“You bastard.” She shoved him in the chest, and his eyes widened in surprise. “You are not going to send me back. I belong with you,” she said, stabbing a finger in his chest.
“I shouldn’t have compromised you so,” he said, his words so formal, she felt like she was being shut out. “I’d rather have you safe than—”
“Than have sex with me?” Felicity blurted. She grew still. “Are you saying we shouldn’t have done it the first time?”
He opened his mouth, but didn’t speak. Why wasn’t he saying anything?
Tears threatened, her voice reed-thin. “Are you saying you think this was a mistake?”
“Och, love. Never.” He canted his head, studying her as if for the last time. Such openness, such raw emotion was in his gaze, Felicity thought her heart would break from it. “I’ll never regret it. Never regret you. But . . . it’s too dangerous. I was a fool. You had me believing that you were sent back to me. For me. To be by my side.”
“But I was,” she said simply. “And now mister preacher man is dead. I’m safe. We’re getting away. Happily ever after, and all that jazz.”
“Your . . . happily ever after . . . can only come when you are safe. Here you are not, will never be, safe.” He took her shoulders. His hands were so gentle and strong, his eyes on her so intent, so earnest. And it was as though he’d begun to pull away already. “Aye, Robertson is dead, but his followers are not. These men . . . they’re like a great, ravenous beast that’s scented blood. They enjoy what they do, Felicity. Some of them truly believe you are a witch. They want to see you burn.”
“But . . .”
“No, love, let me finish.” The shadow of some distant pain pinched his features. “If that weren’t enough, there’s my brother to contend with. Robertson wasn’t in this alone. I see Jamie’s hand at work. My brother will not rest until he sees you ripped from my arms.”
They stared at each other in silence. Felicity’s mind refused to process what was happening.
“It would be too selfish of me,” he said finally. “Too great a risk. I’ll not see you in danger ever again. And so I must see you gone.”
Tears stung her eyes. Her throat clenched, from misery, from frustration, from desperation. She had to convince him she needed to stay. He was her hero, her Viking. He could protect her. She would show him she needed to stay.
“Screw that, William Rollo.” Her voice was a fierce growl.
She leapt for him, and Rollo stumbled backwards. His cane clattered to the dirt as he caught her, supported her. She wrapped her legs around him, kissing him, tangling her fingers wildly in his thick, soft, chestnut hair.
It took him only a moment to start kissing her back, and she knew a brief flicker of triumph. She felt his moans hum through her, but whether they were sounds of pleasure or anguish, Felicity wasn’t sure.
She craved him, completely. Wanted to take him in, feel his breath in her lungs. To feel him inside her, to feel Rollo spill himself, inside her.
Then, surely, he’d realize.
She pulled from him, cradled his face in her hands. Her voice was the barest whisper. “Please, Will. I want you. Just one more time.”
She felt him between her legs, hard and wanting her in return, and she knew she had him. She’d convince him she could handle the past, and he’d want one more, and one more, and one more again.“Lay me down, Will.” Felicity trailed slow kisses along his face, his neck. “Lay down with me.”
She unhooked her legs from around his waist. Nestling the hard length of him between her thighs, she did a slow slide down the front of his body to the ground.
“We shouldn’t . . .” he said raggedly. “I must remain alert. I vowed I’d see you back safe.”
“What better way to keep me safe than to lay right on top of me?” She tugged at his arms, beckoning him down to the ground.
The forest floor was cool and soft, a rich, mossy loam that gave with their weight. Light filtered in through the knotted thicket overhead, and what had seemed a malignant wood spirit now felt natural, some primitive homecoming, dirt and sex and trees.
He lay on his side facing her, his face a map of pain and longing.
“Don’t think,” she whispered to him. “Just be. Let go, Will. You’ll most regret the thing you don’t do, not the thing you do.”
She traced her fingertip lightly along his features. The strong edges of jaw and cheekbone, his aristocratic brow and nose.
“Don’t you want me?” Her soft voice mingled with the rustles and sighs of the forest around them.
“How could you even think I’d not want you?” he asked hoarsely. Will put his hand on hers, stilling it. He turned his head to kiss her palm. “Wanting you is all I’ve been doing since the first day I laid eyes on you.”
“And so you have me.” Putting her hands on his shoulders, she guided him onto his back and swung a leg over to straddle him. He nestled between her legs, hard already, and the feel of it flashed her back to their first time.
Him, familiar, a body already known by her own, as readily recognized as his heart. Her chest crackled with the joy of it.
He watched her, watched this glorious creature climb onto him for the second time in his life, not knowing how it could be that he was worthy of such a thing. Elation and grief collided in his heart with an ache rivaled only by the one between his legs.
Will reached up to unlace her. She stopped him, giving him a single slow, mute shake of her head.
With a seductive arch of her back, Felicity reached behind to undo her own laces. She was careful and silent, her eyes not shifting from his. Her hair slipped through her gown as she raised it over her head, falling in a heavy spill over her shoulders and breasts.
Compelled to touch it, to touch her, he brushed his knuckle lightly over a swath of that hair, thick yellow silk over her hardened nipple.
She inhaled sharply, and his eyes shot back to hers. They both remained silent, this moment a fragile thing, charged already with the pain of good-bye.
She was naked now, and Will clothed, and looking up at her, the watery sunlight illuminating her from above, he could almost believe she was the fairy princess he’d mused about when he’d had his first sight of her.
Felicity reached down, began to carefully undress him, and this time he let her. Her concentration, those graceful and precise movements, stabbed him with an anguish that stole the breath from his chest.
Finally he felt her skin on his, and he shut his eyes, overwhelmed by it all. His desire, his pain, both drowning him.
He felt her shift, lean closer. Felt her face hover over his, but still he kept his eyes closed. Perhaps he’d never wake from this dream. Perhaps they’d always been here, could always remain here, in this magical, dark place, alone together.
He felt her kiss him tenderly. On his cheeks, his brow, her soft mouth tasting him all over, as if he were a sweet. The notion of it unmanned him.
How had he come to feel so deeply for her? Such a delight, such a treasure, she’d changed his life. Him, a man changed.
How would he ever live without her?
The thought made his lust grow desperate, his cock straining with the need to be in her, to claim her and keep her close.
He opened his eyes, and his first sight was her lovely face still held near, lips parted and waiting for him. He kissed her, dragged his hands along her naked back, and her hair fell around them like a curtain, burying him in the smell of her, a scent like flowers and musk.
He could wait no longer. Grabbing her hips, he lifted her up and onto him. The feel of her tight, wet heat enveloping him, bringing him home, made him shudder with pleasure. It felt too good, she felt too good.
The urge to plow into her consumed him, and he fought it, holding himself still until he could master his breath. Felicity moved first, with a moan and a rocking of her hips, and his lust exploded in response, subsuming him, blinding him, like a battle rage.
Will shifted, braced her body to flip her onto her back, but Felicity tensed her thighs, stopping him.
“No,” she said, finally breaking the silence. “I want to stay on top this time.”
He brought his hands, his mouth, to her breasts. Gripped her ass, her legs, clutching her closer, tighter. He couldn’t consume enough of her.
She moved slowly at first, writhing over him, whispering his name, and then faster, and faster still, until he thought he might die from it. Might lose himself forever, if only he’d let go one last final bit.
And then he felt it—her movements slowing, strengthening, Felicity sat hard on him, gradually stilling.
Her hands, her thighs, and God help him, her muscles down deep, the whole of her body seized, clutching him. His cock, gripped deep inside her. He watched and felt the waves of her climax crash over her. Watched as her skin flushed pink, watched her eyes close and mouth open. Watched as she was lost to him.