For a moment, neither spoke.
His arm slid around her waist, firm and unbending, keeping her still. His other hand splayed wide, above her head, againstthe door. She felt the weight of his breath against her neck, the brush of his face burying into the fiery tumble of her curls.
Her sweet scent—wild herbs and woodsmoke—wrapped around him, chasing the fury from his chest.
When he finally spoke, it was a whisper against her hair. “You do not deserve my anger.”
But no apology followed.
Fawn turned slowly and when she did, he pressed his body harder against hers and before she could utter a word, his lips came down on hers in a demanding kiss. He stole her breath and any desire to continue to argue. She didn’t want to fight, debate, or worry. At the moment, all she cared about was… loving her husband.
Love.
She could no longer deny it. She loved the big fool that he was for even thinking he could conquer a witch. But then he had conquered her heart, so maybe, just maybe, he could at least come to terms with her mum. More so, who she was… a witch.
He tore his mouth off hers, a growl rumbling deep in his chest. “You have bewitched me, woman. I cannot stop thinking about you, wanting to kiss you, touch you, love you endlessly.”
Fawn waited to see if he would correct himself and say, make love to you endlessly, but he didn’t. He left his words as they were, and her heart hammered against her chest at the thought that he just might love her as she loved him.
“I have a need for you that I have never had for any woman,” he grumbled as if it annoyed him. He brushed his lips over hers. “A need I fear will never be quenched. I will always need you, want you. It is like you are part of me and I cannot live without you.”
And she thought he wasn’t romantic. His words certainly proved otherwise.
She voiced the obvious, a thought that poked at her now and again when trying to make sense of how she felt about him. “We barely know each?—”
“Nay,” he argued, “we know each other well, better than anyone. We were destined for each other.”
She smiled. “How can I argue with that?”
“You can’t,” he said as if he ruled it so. “You’re mine. Always mine.”
He lifted her with one arm, her legs going around his waist as he hoisted her up, as if out of habit, as if she had done so hundreds of times before now. His lips settled on hers, hungry and wanting, as he walked to the bed. He went down on the bed with her.
“I have no patience to linger, my need is too great for you,” he said, his breath harsh in her ear.
“I feel the same,” she assured him, her passion having mounted quickly, and wanting nothing more than to feel him inside her, filling her with pleasure.
Garments were fumbled with until Rhodes stood in a flash. “This will not do. I want to feel you naked against me.”
He reached down and yanked her out of bed, and together they fumbled at each other’s garments, hurrying to undress.
Once done, Fawn dropped down on the bed, her arms stretched out to him and her legs spread wide.
Rhodes took a moment, his eyes roaming over her, and with a quiet yet strong voice, said, “You are gorgeous, wife.”
He slipped into her arms and into her with ease, a perfect fit. She held tight to him, her legs locking around him.
With their passion fired by words and love, they set a quick, hard rhythm, clinging to each other, kissing, urging, sharing the intensity that only love can bring as their pleasure soared beyond reason.
They burst together with shouts, moans and groans of pure pleasure, Rhodes collapsing on top of her, and she held him tight as the last of her pleasure dwindled away and a shudder rocked her body.
Rhodes lifted his head and what should have sounded like heartfelt declaration sounded more of an accusation. “Bloody hell, wife, I love you.”
CHAPTER 20
The first pale hint of dawn touched the horizon, though the village still lay wrapped in shadow. Snow carpeted the ground more thickly than the day before, but not enough to slow Fawn’s steps. Her boots pressed a steady path through the drifts as she moved quickly past the shuttered cottages, her breath rising in faint plumes in the chill air.
She had left Rhodes and Sprig sleeping. The kitten curled warm in the crook of her husband’s arm, and Rhodes’s dark head pillowed close beside him. She had slipped free of the bed silently, as though even the thought of disturbing them would betray her. Guilt pricked at her now, but she could not stay. Not when she needed answers her husband could not give her.
