Slowly, he pushed up her skirt, exposing her legs inch by inch, taking an agonizing length of time as he did. The skirt hitched above her knees, and without even thinking, Neala liftedher hips to help him. Part of her felt that she should feel embarrassed or shy, but she was simply hypnotized by the sight of Ansel kneeling before her.
He looked up at her briefly, then lowered his head, gently kissing her inner thigh. Neala cried out at the sudden unexpected feeling, the tiny brush of his lips sending ripples flooding through her entire body. He kissed her other thigh, then took his time moving his way up, worshiping every part of her skin.
The heat was almost ready to overwhelm Neala even before he found her core. When he pressed his mouth against it, her whole body jerked, her hips bucking against him. Her elbows gave way, and she fell back against the bed hard, one of her hands gripping the sheets as he worked. Her other hand flew to her own chest, clutching impatiently at her own clothing that was so cruelly keeping her restricted. He worked against her more firmly, speeding up as he did, and every movement released a sound from Neala that she had never made before, a primal noise of need and pleasure that took her over more and more with each breath. Her legs tightened around his head, drawing him closer, and she moaned and writhed beneath his work until it became almost too much to bear.
When it got to the point where it was beyond what she could tolerate, just as she was about to tell him to stop, he made one more movement with his tongue, and Neala's mind exploded into nothing but heat and pleasure andAnsel.She cried out his name, gripping so hard at the sheets that they came loose from the mattress as her muscles all tensed up at once, adrenaline and something glorious pulsing through her veins.
Slowly, slowly, her body relaxed, and Neala was able to open her eyes again. Ansel had gotten to his feet and was wiping his mouth, grinning down at her with a kind of gleeful satisfaction that she'd never seen before.
Panting, barely able to speak, she said, "That… that look suits ye."
"That look suits ye as well," he told her. The hunger still flickered in his eyes. "Pantin' and sweatin' and callin' me name. A man could get a little too used tae it."
Neala had thought herself spent, but at those words her body responded instantly, impatiently demanding more. She was more than happy to oblige, but she didn't have the words to ask. Instead, she pushed herself up to a sitting position once more. Ansel watched her carefully, and she felt a thrill of satisfaction to see how his body reacted to her every movement. She hesitated, then said, "This bodice ties at the back. Will ye help me undo it?"
Ansel swallowed. "Neala… ye dinnae need tae… this was more than enough. More than I could have ever asked for."
In answer, Neala simply held out her hand. Ansel took it, almost shyly, and crawled onto the bed at her side.
Clothes fell away, first her dress and then her underclothes, then Ansel's one remaining layer. They lay on their sides facing each other, bare and exposed and fully vulnerable with each other at long, long last. Ansel touched her breast lightly, worshipfully, and Neala closed her eyes and allowed herself to simply experience the feel of him. When he moved forward and kissed her, she wrapped her arms around him, pulling him close. Her fingers traced the scars on his back, and he froze, pulling away slightly.
"I'm sorry," she said quickly. "I didnae…"
Ansel shook his head. "I'm yers," he said. "All of me."
He kissed her again, and this time it grew deeper. Their bodies pressed together, skin against skin, and soon Neala rolled onto her back and Ansel settled atop her. He kissed every part of her, exploring her neck and her breasts but always returning to her lips, and in turn her hands explored every dip of his muscles and every inch of his skin. When he entered her, it was as easy asbreathing, as if they had done it a thousand times before. Neala gasped at the tightness, but soon they were moving together, their bodies in rhythm, their breathing a mixed melody.
They found themselves and each other in a chorus of sighs and the wonder of one another. As the intensity built and the wave rose within Neala again, she opened her eyes and found Ansel staring back down at her; the same indescribable feeling in her heart echoed back in his gaze.
The wave crashed down, and her body curled around itself. Neala breathed out his name. As she did, she felt Ansel stiffen too, and he let out a deep grunt of ecstasy. They were together now, the way they should have been for so long.
When it was over, they lay next to each other, hand in hand, as the fire-warmed tent dried the sweat on their skin. They did not speak. They did not have to. Neala knew that the moment they left this bed, things would be messy again, but for this one, precious moment, everything was right with the world.
At some point, they must have fallen asleep. It was the first sleep in a long time when Neala felt no nightmares haunting its edges. She cuddled into the warmth of Ansel's arms and allowed herself to rest.
A horn sounded somewhere nearby, signalling that morning had come. Both of them startled awake at once, and reality flooded unpleasantly into the warm bubble that had sustained them all night.
Ansel was the first to move. He slid out of the bed and reached for his leine, not quite looking at her as he covered himself again then moved to grab his clothes. "This… doesnae change anythin', Neala," he said softly at last.
All of the warmth Neala had been feeling turned to ice. She sat up on the bed in disbelief. "What do ye mean?" she demanded. "This changeseverythin'."
Ansel shook his head. He bent down and picked up her dress from the floor, handing it to her, but still not quite meeting her eyes. "I shouldnae have… I should have…" He shook his head. "I've wanted ye all this time, but it was selfish of me tae give intae that."
"We wanted each other," Neala reminded him, annoyance coloring her tone. "Dinnae make this somethin'yedid." She pulled her dress over her head, only because she didn't know what else to do. "Dinnae pretend it wasnae more than just a simple physical need."
"It doesnae matter what it was," Ansel told her shortly. He stared at the fireplace now as she dressed, not moving. "It's done, and I'm still who I was. I cannae leave all of this behind, no matter how much I might—I just cannae. Ye cannae change me. Ye cannae protect me. Think of this as a goodbye. A true one this time."
Neala's heart clenched painfully in her chest, and she felt sick. All the joy she had been feeling evaporated into the night air. "Please, Ansel. Dinnae do this, nae now. Dinnae make me leave ye behind again."
"I've done things. Many things. Things that can never be forgiven." Ansel shook his head. "I'm beyond yer help. Beyond anyone's. Please, Neala, if ye care for me?—"
"Dinnae yedare?—"
"If ye care for me, thengo," Ansel urged. "Please, before the rest of the camp wakes up or someone comes tae check on me. "Some of me men might bring ye tae me, but the rest…" He shook his head. "Go."
Neala swallowed. "And if I refuse?"
At last, he turned to look at her. His eyes were dull, his mouth drawn. There was no trace of the carefree joy she'd seen there only a short time before. "If I asked ye to stay, tae abandon Cailean and the rebellion, would ye do it?"
