“I love you,”, she said. “Make us one, Justin. All the way one. Give me your seed.” She twined her legsabout his powerful thighs, tilted herself, and tightenedinner muscles to pull him deeper.
But he would not stay deeply imbedded in her. He drew out of her—almostout—and slid back in again,and when she sighed, did it again and again and again.There was a rhythm that her own motionless body feltand responded to until she was moving with him, atfirst slowly, then faster, then with frenzied need. Shecould hear both of them panting—an erotic accompaniment to the energetic dance of bodies joined at thecore.
She was approaching the precipice again. But this time they were approaching it together. Her bodycould feel that as she tightened the hold of arms andlegs about him. They were going to fall together, theirbodies locked in the deepest intimacy. They weregoing together.
He thrust into her and held deep and firm instead of withdrawing once more. She pushed down ontohim. There was a moment when she feared beingstranded on the edge of pain, when she was afraid hewould fall and leave her alone and lonely. But thenthey were over the precipice, together, falling free,only the freedom and the fall of any importance inthis life. She clung to his damp, panting body, tooexhausted even to wish that they would never land.
“Like last night?” he said ages and ages later—but how could she have fallen asleep if she already wasasleep? “It was many times better than last night,love, just as last night was better than the nightbefore.”
“I am still so very inexperienced,” she said. “I have had only a week of lessons.”
He chuckled. “You learn quickly and well,” he said. “An apter pupil I could not ask for. And you have astrong instinct, love. You are teaching me as surely asI am teaching you.”
“How long did we sleep?” she asked.
His arms tightened about her and the laughter went from his voice. “We loved for a long time, Margaret,”he said, “and slept as long, I am afraid. You hadbetter go. I don’t want you in trouble. Each day Ivow that when you bring me food at night, I will insistthat you return to your room immediately. And eachnight I do this to you.”
“Withme,” she said, kissing him warmly. “With me, Justin.”
“You must go,” he said. “There is enough food and water to last me for two days, love. Have one safenight at least and stay in your room tomorrow. I didnot anticipate having to stay so long when I first camehere. Then it was only reluctance to go home and facePaul that kept me here. Now there is all this businessof a theft and a murder.”
“I’ll be back tomorrow night,” she said fiercely.
He got up from the bed, and she could hear him striking a flint to light the candle. She sat up andpulled her nightgown on over her head. When thelight flared, she located her dressing gown on the floorand drew it on, belting it firmly at the waist. She gotto her feet and slid them into her slippers.
“Go then,” he said, turning to her and handing her the candle. “Go quickly, my love.”
So very handsome he was, this stranger who was so familiar and so dear. This stranger with whom she hadbeen actively and vigorously intimate for more thanhalf an hour on that mattress with its tumbledblankets.
“Justin.” Her voice was high-pitched, on the verge of tears.
“All will be well.” He framed her face with his hands and kissed her lips softly. “All will be well,Margaret. I promise.”
She smiled at him, deliberately swallowing her fear. She wanted him to remember her smile during thecoming day until she could come back to him tomorrow night. She turned to the door. There was a boxbehind the door with a cracked bowl and a jug ofwater and his shaving things standing on it. And asmall looking glass. Daphne moved to one side of thedoor to glance into the glass.
Her own face looked back at her. It was surrounded by long ringlets of her own hair color, considerablydisheveled. There was a frill at the neck of her nightgown, and the gown itself was of a fine material. Shewore no dressing gown. She was dressed as a bridemight dress when going to her husband to be loved.
He was easing the door open quietly and peering out and downward. Though if anyone had been there,the candle would have betrayed them. No one wouldbe there. No one ever came to the north tower. Thatwas why she had suggested it as a hiding place—justfor the one night, before they brought the wrath ofboth their families down on their heads by announcingtheir secret marriage. And of course her bedchamberwas next to the door into the tower.
“Good night, my love,” she said, raising her face for one more kiss.
“Good night, Margaret,” he said. “Thank you for the feast.” He grinned, making her stomach leap inside her. “And for the food bundle. I am going toraid it now.”
She laughed.Shewas the feast? But then so was he.
And then she was making her way down the stairs, holding up the hem of her dressing gown as she descended. Going down the steep stone stairs of a castletower was always more frightening than going up. Shewas relieved to see the door into the upper passageway and to be out in it again and then inside herbedchamber. No one had seen her. She closed thedoor and leaned back against it.
He would be safe. No one would find him there. Who else’s room was situated in this passageway? ButDaphne could no longer think with Margaret’s mind.She tried to. She wanted to let Margaret tell herthrough her thoughts exactly who Justin was and whythey had married secretly a week ago. She wanted toknow more about the jewelry theft and the murderand more about the brother—Sebastian?—and thehostility between their two families.
But Margaret had gone as surely as Justin had been left behind in the tower.
Daphne was cold again. She shivered. She reluctantly abandoned her dressing gown and slippers and dived beneath the bedcovers, now cold. That was it,she thought. She was cold. That was what had wokenher. In reality she had just woken up—because shewas cold and because she had had a bizarre dream.
Oh, but what a dream, she thought, turning over onto her side and sliding one hand beneath the pillow.She closed her eyes tightly and tried to identify theleftover ache that his hands and his body had createdon and in her. But there was nothing. Only the memories. The vivid memories that set her to yearning andsighing and even shedding a few tears.
Justin!
She was lost. Hopelessly lost. Deeply, deeply in love with him. With a dream man. What a dreadfuland ridiculous fate, she thought with a thread ofhumor, to be in love with a dream man. To have therest of her life blighted by it. For it would be blighted.How could she ever love or even mildly desire anotherman after knowing Justin?
