Page 26 of This Laird of Mine

Pain flared, subsided. Fullness came, then sensation after sensation stormed through her. It was then she became aware of another sensation, an emptiness that had to be filled.

He moved slowly, back and forth, allowing her time to grow accustomed to him, but the pain on his face grew more harsh, more pinched, as though the effort to restrain himself was costing him greatly. She clutched his shoulders, desperately holding on to him to keep him inside.

She had to have all of him. It was the only thing that would take away the emptiness that grew, sharpened with each slow thrust. She wanted more. “Jules,” she whispered. “Take me, all of me,” she sighed as she thrust her hips upward once more.

He exploded into motion, thrusting short, hard, fast, and frantic.

An unbearable hunger grew, raged, spiraled. She thrashed her head from side to side against a pillow of grass as a desperation she had never felt before grew mercilessly out of control. “Please make it—” She didn’t know what she was asking. All she knew was they were headed for something that was bigger than both of them, something she wanted to lose herself in forever.

Every stroke drew them closer. Every heartbeat melded them as one. Their breathing mingled, merged, until a dark hunger exploded, splintered into a brilliance so overwhelming it was like nothing she had ever experienced before.

“Damnation,” Jules whispered as he collapsed on top of her. They lay there joined, hearts pounding, breathing ragged, for what felt like an eternity, until finally he lifted his head and brushed his lips over hers. “You are not what I expected.” His voice was silken soft, as seductive as the summer breeze that whispered across their cooling flesh.

“From the Claire you created, you expected nothing at all.”

“You are not the Claire I created.” He looked down at her, his eyes so blue and clear she felt as if she were looking into forever. She wanted it to be forever. She wanted to continue to float on the magical plane where no one and nothing existed but them. He smiled and kissed the tip of her nose.

“Perhaps, or perhaps I am the manifestation of that wish come true. You created me for a reason. What was it?” she asked, feeling the glow of their lovemaking ebb away. She wanted it to continue. She wanted him to kiss her again, for the heat to build once more.

Instead he withdrew from her and turned onto his back, staring at the sky. “I did not think past trying to make Nicholas and Jane stop with their pleading letters, or their various attempts to introduce me to female friends of theirs. I wanted it all to stop.”

“It has stopped,” she said softly, then at the flicker of tension that returned to his body, she stood and held out her hand. She was not ready for their truce to end. “Come with me.”

He sat up and stared at her outstretched hand. “Where?” He gripped her hand and she tugged him forward, pulling him off balance until both of them landed with a splash in the water.

The moment he reached for her, she swam away.

He laughed and swam after her. “You know how to swim?”

“Of course.” She darted to the left, out of his grasp.

“Then why did you allow me to rescue you out there?” He changed course, following her.

“You seemed so determined.” She waved her hand across the surface of the water, sending spray into his face.

He laughed and made a lunge for her, pulling her into his arms once more. He held her close, treading water. “You are no damsel in distress.”

She watched the water bead onto his shirt-covered shoulders from the wet ends of his hair. A lazy smile touched his lips, making him appear much younger than his twenty-two years. Something had changed between them today, whether he wanted to acknowledge it or not. The barrier he had first erected to keep her at arm’s length was no longer there. “No, Jules, I am your wife.”

The moment she said the words, she regretted them. The shadows returned to his eyes. And he turned them both toward the shore. He wrapped her in his arms and carried her back to the beach, setting her on the grass. He bent down and snagged her chemise, pressing the wet garment into her hands. “We should get dressed and return to the manor.” He turned away and snatched up his breeches.

“What are you doing?”

“I am getting dressed.” He frowned. “Where are my boots?” He searched the area until he found the garments he had most likely discarded before coming out to rescue her from the boat.

“No, Jules. You are running away.”

He tensed, not looking at her. “I’m not running.”

“You are running from what we shared here, from the realization that you do care, and that you want to do it again.”

He turned to face her, his features hard. “I told you I would walk away. I warned you.”

She fastened the edges of her gown, straightened the wet fabric, then slipped her feet into the shoes she’d left at the shoreline. “You might walk away, but I will be there with you in your thoughts and in your mind.” She moved toward him. “You are afraid. Why?”

He took a step back as he finished securing his breeches, then slammed his feet into his boots. “Leave well enough alone, wench. Leave here, leave me while you still can.”

“This is where I belong.”