As gleeful as children, they piled wood upon the fire and then?snuggled naked beneath the down coverlets just before Rose arrived?with a breakfast of hard-cooked eggs, thick slices of country ham,?bread, cheese, and nut- brown ale. It snowed all that day and they?never stirred from their bed except to feed either the fire or them-? selves. Skye could not believe how often and easily he aroused her,?fulfilled her, loved her. Each time she thought surely it could not?happen again, and yet it did.
On the second day the snow stopped and the sun shone again.?They dressed and played outdoors in the snow like youngsters, much?to the amusement of Master Parker and his wife. But Rose was?outraged. It was unthinkable for the gentry to behave in such a?fashion! Especially such a handsome, romantic gentleman as the?Earl.
Skye’s cheeks were red with the cold and she shrieked with mock?terror as the Earl pelted her with snowballs. She got back at him by?teasing him into position beneath the roof and then sending a well-?aimed snowball into the piled-up snow on the edge. It tumbled down?over him like an avalanche, leaving him sputtering his surprise.
That night they sat before the fire, Skye in her simple white caftan?and Geoffrey in a green velvet robe. They roasted chestnuts in the?coals of their fire, picking the sweet, hot meats from the shells,?burning their fingers in the process. He found a lute in the common?room of the inn and brought it back to their little room. To her surprise he played and sang quite well. He sang her several naughty?ditties that left her weak with laughter, and when he saw that she?was helpless he put the lute down and pounced on her. Giggling,?she fought him off, tickling him mercilessly until he too was helpless?with mirth.
They lay panting upon the bed, and then suddenly he was kissing?her frantically. “Skye! Skye! Dammit, woman, love me a little!”
“But Geoffrey,” she protested, “I do!”
“No, sweetheart, you love what I do to your passions but you?feel nothing for me. You’re so fair, so charming, so intelligent! I?thought it was enough, but it
“Oh, Geoffrey!” There was genuine regret in her voice. “I don’t?know if I shall ever love again. It hurts so damned much to love.?I like you, and I had thought we would be friends. It’s more than?most men have with their mistresses.”
“You’re not just any woman, my love! I want more of you, Skye,?than most men have of their mistresses.”
“You have no right!” she shouted at him. “You do not take me,?I give myself freely! Because I want to, and only because I do want?to.” She was kneeling on the bed, her hair swirling about her sleek,?beautiful shoulders. “I will be no man’s toy! Understand that, my?lord Earl.”
Her sapphire eyes flashed blue fire, her creamy skin was rosy?with emotion. At that moment she was the most beautiful thing he’d?ever seen. Still, he was furious at her. He was Geoffrey Reginald?Michael Arthur Henry Southwood, the seventh Earl of Lynmouth,?and she was only a nameless woman without a past. He was the? ”Angel Earl,” the man for whom all women pined. She was the first?to have the gift of his true love. And he would have hers!
His voice was dangerously low and tinged with scorn. “I’ll not?beg you, Skye. But if you cannot learn to love again and yet you?still give your body, then you’re no better than a common whore.”
She went white with shock, her eyes huge. Lashing out, she hit?a blow to his cheek which left the red imprint of her fingers. Instantly?he struck back, matching her blow. Then flinging himself on her,?he pinned her beneath him.
“Your husband is dead! Can’t you understand?”
Struggling wildly, she screamed at him. “Don’t speak of him!?Don’t you dare to speak of him! He was kind and wise and good,?and I loved him! Do you hear? I loved him! I loved him as I shall?never love anyone else!”
“Instead,” he raged at her, “you’ll make a mockery of his love by behaving like a whore! You’ll lock your heart away while sat-?isfying the lusts of your body. Very well, sweetheart, if you wish?to be a whore I’ll show you how!”
His hands went to the neck of her caftan and with several quick?motions he tore the silk garment from her easily. He squeezed her?breasts, his knee jammed brutally between her thighs.
“No! Geoffrey!”
His lime-green eyes glittered in the firelight, and he bent to capture,?her mouth. She turned her head aside quickly and he lost his balance.?He fell into the pillows. She scrambled from beneath him, her feet?finding the floor. She fled across the room. But reaching the door,?she realized the hopelessness of her situation. She was stark naked,?and could hardly escape.
She faced him as he lazily stalked her across the room. “Geoffrey,?please.” She held out her hands in supplication. His eyes were pitiless?as his body pressed hard into hers. She felt the wall behind her.
“Whores,” he said tonelessly, “are often taken in alleys, standing?up, their backs to the wall.” Forcing her thighs open, he ordered,?”Put your arms about me, whore! Wrap your legs about my waist?and see how the other members of your sisterhood behave!”
She fought him wildly now, trying to twist her body away from?him, struggling, clawing at his eyes. He slapped her and she burst?into tears, tears of shame, tears of fright. “Please,” she whimpered,?
Her tears stopped him and he suddenly stepped away. She crum-?bled toward the floor and he caught her and carried her to the bed,?cradling her against his chest as he sat down. “Damn you, Skye!?Damn you for the heartless, blue-eyed bitch you are. I only want?you to love me.”
“It hurts to love,” she sobbed, “I don’t want to be hurt again.”
“Sweetheart, living hurts, and loving is part of living, as is death.”?His anger had disappeared in the face of her obvious pain. “Skye,?my darling, love me as I love you.”
She began to cry harder. She wept for the woman she could not?remember, for Khalid el Bey, that tender and noble man. She was?so very tired.
“Love me, my darling,” he whispered tenderly. “Let your heart?soften again. Oh Skye, I would set you above all women, even my?wife. Love me, sweetheart!”
She had built a wall about her heart and now she felt that wall?being breached, piece by piece.
“You’re no wanton, to lie with me simply for pleasure. You do?feel, though you won’t admit it. Don’t you, my darling?”
She looked up at him, her eyes streaming. “Yes,” she whispered,?so low that he had to bend to hear her.
“You will not betray the love you felt for your husband if you?love me, Skye. That you can-and must-love again is a tribute to?the love you shared with your husband. Now share your love with?me, my darling.”
There was a long silence. At last he heard her say softly, “Yes,?Geoffrey.”
With infinite care he lay her upon their bed and gently kissed the?tears on her cheeks, moving down her throat, her chest, her exquisite?breasts. He worshiped at the shrine of their perfection, nursing on?each nipple. Protectively she enfolded him in her embrace, cradling?him, and, exhausted, they fell asleep.
In the gray-white light of the January dawn she awoke to find?that he had thrust gently into her. The hardness within her seemed?natural and good. “I do love you,” she said quietly, and slowly he?began the primitive rhythm that would culminate in searing passion?for them both. She moved with him, savoring the sweetness of him,?and suddenly she knew that all the barriers had crumbled away. She?loved this tender and arrogant lord who sought to possess her so?completely. She loved him. He would never know, of course, for?men never did, that though she loved him there would always be?a secret part of her that belonged to her alone. But she loved him,?of that she was sure.
Their rhythm quickened and then the blazing white light of the?dawn blended with the pulsing golden light in her mind as he brought?her twice to perfect fulfillment. She cried his name and felt his strong?arms about her, heard his voice soothing her, his lips kissing away?the salty tears she hadn’t even been aware of shedding.
“You are mine, and I am yours,” she said finally, easily.
“Aye, sweetheart,” he answered. “We belong together, and we?will be together. In the spring I shall beg leave from the Queen and?take you down into Devon to my home.”
“But your wife-“
“Mary and her daughters do not live at Lynmouth,” he said. “It?is you who shall be its mistress.”
That afternoon they left their secret sanctuary at the Ducks and?Drake and rode back to London. The day was cold and windy and?overcast, and threatened snow again, but they were happy.?- “I want you to move into my
