She stepped away from him, angry that they should be parted when they only found each other. “You have surrendered much of your life seeking revenge. Have you not avenged your family’s deaths enough? Can you not walk away now knowing you have accomplished what you intended and have a life of your own?”
“I have freed many who otherwise would have died brutal deaths, but more continue to be persecuted. How do I walk away from the innocent when they need someone to help them?”
“Let someone else help them,” she said angrily. “I need you and”—she placed her hand to her stomach—“your child needs you.”
He walked over to her and rested his hand over hers. “I wish . . . I wish things were different.”
“Then make them different,” she begged. “I do not want to spend my life without you.”
“We will discuss this matter no more,” he said adamantly.
Her eyes rounded when she caught the familiar tone of Decimus, but she feared him no more.
“We will discuss it until you are in agreement with me,” she protested.
“Will we?” he asked, his voice a bit too gentle and his hands beginning to roam up her arms.
“You will not sway me in this.”
“I have no doubt of that. You can be stubborn,” he said and ran his fingertips ever so lightly beneath the sleeves of her nightshift, sending gooseflesh rushing over her. His fingers found their way to her neck and he stroked her soft skin, kissed her warm lips, and silenced her stubbornness.
“I want to make love to you. I want you to look into my eyes and see me, know it is me, know that I love you.”
She stumbled on her words not certain who she was to love. “Mic—De—who are you?”
“You need to know me as Decimus, and it is time for us to consummate our wedding vows.”
Her smile was gentle. “I had feared this time, but no more.”
“You will only know love this night and for all the nights to follow until we say our last goodbye.”
“I will have memories to keep me warm,” she said sadly.
“And for me to fill my endless days and nights without you.”
“Then let us begin making memories,” she said, taking his hand and walking to the bed.
He rushed out of his clothes, she slipped out of hers and climbed into bed, pulling back the blanket, inviting him to hurry and join her . . . and he did.
He lay beside her, bracing his elbow on the bed and resting his head on his hand so that he could see all of her naked beauty. He wanted to watch her as he slowly touched every inch of her, starting with her face.
His strokes were feather light, tantalizing her soft flesh. She sighed and moaned and squirmed, and he grew hard watching her respond so passionately to his touch.
“You are so very beautiful,” he whispered and kissed her lips.
She wrapped her arms around his neck and drew him to her until he slipped completely over her. He had thought to take his time with her, but she had a different idea and he responded to her need.
Their loving turned fast and furious as if they could not get enough of each other, as if both were starved with a hunger that could not be quenched. She climaxed quickly and wanted more and he obliged. When he thought her spent, she pushed him off her to climb on top of him.
“You are not tired—”
“Shhh, let me love you,” she whispered before biting his lips playfully, then settling herself comfortably over the full length of him, tossing her long hair back over her shoulder, and riding him with an energy born of love.
He grasped her waist and helped her to keep a steady rhythm, but help was unnecessary. He fit her well and she relished the feel of him, hard and powerful and throbbing deep inside her.
She leaned down over him, her long blond hair forming a tent around his face and, nibbling on his lips, she said, “I cannot get enough of you.”
“Take what you want of me,” he urged and she did until he felt her body slow its rhythm and he knew she grew tired.
He eased her off him and joined with her once more, taking full control and finishing their lovemaking with an explosive climax. Together they soared past time and space, united as one in the heavens only to drift gently back to earth.
He moaned his satisfaction, she sighed hers, and they rested together in each other’s arms content, if only for this moment.
When a chill began to creep over their damp, naked bodies he reached down and pulled the soft wool blanket over them, tucking it around her. They snuggled together, content and at peace.
“We will be left alone this night?” she asked and hoped.
“I saw to what was necessary. The rest can wait until morning.”
“What of Roarke?”
“You tell me.”
She rested her hand on his chest as though her gentle touch would keep him calm, when she said, “I had to help him. He had already been tortured and would suffer more. And why was he so close to the fortress?”
“Roarke has been my partner since the conception of the Dark One. I could not have accomplished so many successful flights to freedom without him. This time was no different.”
“The night we arrived here you were busy making plans to free the prisoners. It was the reason for our hasty departure from Magnus’s keep?”
He nodded. “It was imperative. There were two young lads and one was badly hurt when captured. I did not think he would survive the night.”
“Did he?” she asked, reciting a silent prayer for the lad.
“He did but could not journey as fast as the others. Roarke remained with him until help could be sent. By then my men were close on their trail, and to keep them from finding the lad and his rescuers, Roarke led them away and was caught. I feared I would not arrive in time to stop his torture.”
“I arrived in time,” she said proudly.
“You could have been caught.” His admonishment could not hide the pride in his voice.
“But I was not and Roarke is free, though in need of care.”
Decimus sat up. “Is he hurt badly?”
“He was only able to walk slowly, so I secured him a horse. He is on his way to Magnus’s keep.”
He sat up, looked to where his clothes lay discarded on the floor, his body tense with flight—then looked to her.
“Go, he needs your help,” she said, sensing his concern for his friend.
“I will see him safe and then return,” he said jumping out of bed and dressing with haste.
“And what am I to say if asked of your whereabouts?”
“I will return before anyone knows me gone, and no one would expect Decimus to keep his wife apprised of his whereabouts.” He leaned over and kissed her soundly.
“I cannot escape,” she said, a thought coming to her that might be useful.
“You must,” he said with sorrow and shook his head. “We have no time to discuss this now, we will talk of it when I return.”
She grabbed hold of his arm. “It cannot be an escape, Mich—Decimus.” It was imperative she remembered to call him Decimus and no other name for fear of making a mistake in front of someone. “The Church would forever hunt me. I must die and be laid to rest.”
He plopped down beside her on the bed. Her words were an added burden to his already heavy mind and heart. “You are right.”