He sat up, unbuttoning his shirt, his eyes never leaving hers. “I love the way you look tonight. I like your hair tousled and wild about your shoulders.” He pulled the shirt out of his trousers and slipped it off. His shoulders gleamed bronze in the firelight as he tossed the shirt away. “Sit up, Kira.” He didn't wait for her to comply but pulled her gently to a sitting position. He took the bottom of her blouse and pulled it over her head and threw it on top of his shirt. Then he was tugging at her right boot. “I'm getting very proprietary about these boots,” he said with a faint smile. He took the other boot off her and threw it toward the other clothing. Then he paused to gaze at her with eyes that were smoky with hunger. She could feel the tension zapping between them in jagged lines of power. “I'm beginning to feel very proprietary about you too.” He moved forward and his unsteady hands untied the lace waist of her belt. When he had finished loosening the laces he hesitated, looking down at them. Then he suddenly pulled the laces so tight that her waist was cinched to wasp slimness and her naked breasts jutted forward in saucy invitation.
She gasped and her gaze flew to his. “What are you doing?”
“Fulfilling a fantasy. Hell, I didn't even know it was a fantasy until I saw you in this outfit.” He kept the laces taut as he slowly lowered his head. “I'm not hurting you, am I?”
“No.” His tongue was stroking her breast gently and she had trouble getting the word out. No pain, only the swollen tautness, the exquisite sensitivity of her nipples, his warm teasing tongue. The only pain was the aching desire for completion. “What fantasy?”
He released the laces, unfastened the belt, and slipped it from her waist. His eyes were darkly intent. “I don't know. It has something to do with what I felt when you walked forward into the firelight in that seventeenth- century garb.” He shrugged. “Deja vu. Nostalgia. Something.” He unfastened his belt and pulled off his boots. “It's a night for magic and fantasy, Kira. Do you have any fantasies you want to have fulfilled?” His gaze was holding her own. “Tell me. I want to show you I can be something besides the barbarian I was this morning.”
She could scarcely think, much less remember any fantasy she might have had. “I think you're doing very well on your own.”
His smile was a warm flash in his dark face. “Good. Then we'll continue as we started. I'll be right back, love.”
He stood and stripped quickly, then knelt beside her again. His palms framed her face and he kissed her tenderly. “Come here, Kira.” His legs were spread wide and suddenly her skirt and petticoats were frothing over him. His hand was beneath them. Searching. Finding. She gasped as his fingers gently started a rhythm that caused her to clutch wildly at his shoulders. She felt the prickly abrasion of the dusting of hair on his thighs as he arranged her legs around his hips. Then his hands were on her bottom, bringing her slowly forward.
She bit her lip to stifle a little moan as he began to fill the aching emptiness at an excruciatingly slow pace.
“It's like a treasure hunt, with all these petticoats hiding you from me.” He laughed huskily. “But I think I've found the way. Dear heaven, but it's a slow way.”
She thought so too. “Hurry.” Her nails unconsciously dug into the flesh of his shoulders. “This is driving me… crazy.”
He flexed and felt a deep shudder go through her.
“Just a little more. I'm going crazy, too, but I want-” He broke off. “There. Now put your arms around me.” His arms enfolded her and he buried his lips in her hair. Closeness. Fullness. Fire.
Then he was tumbling her over backward and flipping up the skirt and lace petticoats. His hand ran over her possessively. His face above her was heavy with sensuality. “Now this is the time when we hurry, Kira,” he said softly. “Like this, love.”
He exploded into wildness, the strokes deep and heavy with frantic urgency. She wanted to help him, but the sensations were so intense that she found she could only arch mindlessly up to him, her hands fluttering on his shoulders. Her teeth clenched as wave after wave of feeling surged over her, in her, around her. Then his lips were hard on her own as the final tidal deluge swept them away.
She couldn't move. She felt as if she might never move again. Zack's eyes were closed and his chest was rising and falling with the force of his labored breathing. There was a touch of desperation in his low laugh. “You know, another fantasy like that one might kill me. I've never felt anything so intense before.” He opened his eyes and she was surprised to see how lazily sensual they were. “And do you know something else? Give me a minute or two and I'll be ready to do it again. You have a very wild effect on me, Your Highness.”
“It will take me a little longer than that to recover,” she murmured. “I feel as if I've just been through an earthquake.”
There was a faintly regretful look in his eyes. “Pity.” He slowly shifted off her. One hand moved to pet her affectionately. “I know I'm being a selfish bastard, but I can't seem to get enough of you.” He unfastened her skirt, then removed both it and the petticoats. “You tell me when you're ready.” He smiled crookedly. “I assure you I'm at your disposal at any time.” He lay down on the sheepskin pallet and pulled her into his arms, rolling her over so they were facing each other. Then he sighed contentedly. “Though this is nice too.”
“Yes.” She nestled closer. “I think nice is a definite understatement.” Her eyes were drooping drowsily and she smothered a yawn against his shoulder.
She was conscious of his hand running lazily down her arm to her wrist. “Take a nap, love. We have all night.”
She nodded. She would sleep presently, but right now she wanted to lie here and enjoy this wonderful closeness. Then his fingers were threading once more through hers in the intimate embrace that now seemed peculiarly their own. She smiled contentedly as her heavy lids closed. The last memory of which she was conscious was the sight of their hands joined in companionship and…
It was early afternoon when she heard the whir of the helicopter. At first the sound was so faint it might have been the hum of a bee and she didn't bother to open her eyes. She was drowsy and content sitting here against the trunk of the beech tree, with the sun on her face and Zack's head in her lap, and it was impossible to believe anything could disturb the bucolic enchantment of the moment.
Then the chugging whir became louder and her eyes flew open. “Zack!” There was an edge of panic in her voice. “Zack, I hear something.”
“Um-m,” he murmured, not opening his eyes. “So do I.”
“It's a helicopter.” She pushed his head from her lap and jumped to her feet in a flurry of petticoats. “I'm sure it's a helicopter.” She ran to the edge of the hill, her gaze searching the sky. “Zack, for God's sake, just don't lie there. They've found us!”
“I'm lying here because you nearly knocked me out when my head fell off your lap,” he said dryly as he sat up.
“Oh, dear, I'm sorry.” She glanced over her shoulder with a stricken expression. “But they're
A cinnamon-colored helicopter had appeared on the horizon. It was moving purposefully in their direction.
Zack rose to his feet and strolled over to stand beside her. “So I see. But the question is, Who are
“Perry Bentley?”
“My assistant. You probably saw him that night outside the theater in Tucson.” He turned and started down the hill. “Put your boots on and let's go down and meet him as he lands.”
She stared after him. “How did you know I was outside the theater that night?” But he was halfway down the hill and could no longer hear her. She hurriedly thrust her bare feet into the boots and tucked the tail of her blouse into her skirt. Then she was hurrying after him.
She caught up as he reached the open field. Zack's own helicopter was stashed on the perimeter, beneath the cover of overhanging trees. She watched as the aircraft landed in the exact center of the field. “How did you know I was outside-”
His hand closed on her arm as he stepped forward eagerly. “Come on. I want you to see your present.” He was pulling her toward the helicopter, his expression endearingly boyish.
“My present?” she echoed bewilderedly.
