“I am,” she whispered.
His expression changed, became somehow primitive, and triumphant. “Do you finally come to me willingly as my wife?”
Their regards locked again. Despite her weakened condition, Mary felt the fluttering of desire low in her belly. “Stephen,” she whispered faintly. A surge of emotion so intense it almost blacked her out overwhelmed her. Mary was stunned to realize that she loved this man. And then, in the next heartbeat, she was not stunned at all. “Yes,” she said softly.
His eyes widened. A moment later he was bending closer and brushing his mouth gently over hers; in the next instant, there was little gentle about his kiss. Mary did not care. She loved him. She kissed him back.
Eagerly their tongues mated. Mary pulled Stephen down on top of her, exulting at the feel of him, at his unmistakable reaction to her invitation. He was disturbingly hard and long against her thigh. Mary whimpered. She had almost died, and now, now she was overwhelmed with the urge to take him deep inside her, to cry out in abandon, in ecstasy, and to coax his seed to life. Nothing had ever been as important.
Stephen was the one to break their kiss. He lifted his head, panting, his brow furrowed, his face grim. “Mary? If we do not stop now—”
“No!” she cried, shifting so the ripe tip of him brushed the apex of her thighs. “No, my lord, you have saved my life—now let me give you life!”
Stephen froze, only for an instant. Then he rolled over her, stroking his hands down her belly, stroking intimately between her thighs. Mary moaned in pure pleasure. She thrashed beneath him, panting.
Her tunic was in the way. With a savage little cry Mary shoved her skirts up to her waist and pressed Stephen’s hand hard against her wet heat. He was startled; his eyes blazed. “For you, my lord,” Mary whispered, aware of being totally carnal in that instant and unable to help herself. “Only for you, my lord.”
He cried out. A moment later he was sliding his huge shaft deep within her, in an act not just of penetration, but of possession.
Mary sobbed her joy. She keened her ecstasy. Stephen gasped, sliding in and out of her, stroking her again and again with his massive manhood, until Mary knew a second, even greater ecstasy than before. With a harsh cry, he finally convulsed deep within her. The sounds of their heartbeats, uneven and rapid, mingled with their harsh, heavy breathing.
Mary sighed.
“I like your smile, mademoiselle,” Stephen whispered.
Mary wondered if she looked as love-struck as she felt.
“We shall do more than well, you and I,” Stephen said.
Mary tensed. His words had a hard edge to them, as if a challenge, or a vow. She sat up, staring at his dark, handsome face. He was so somber now, as if unsure.
“It will be so,” Mary whispered, but suddenly she was wistful and afraid, aware now more than ever of the immense past that loomed between them, one that went much further back than just the few weeks since he had captured her, a past consisting of countless battles in which their fathers had crossed swords with deadly intention, a past in which she herself had committed many acts of treachery against him. How Mary yearned then and there for the kind of relationship he had just alluded to, one far more successful than most, one without complications, one honest and real. A relationship that, for them, history and circumstance conspired against.
And such a conspiracy did not bode well for them. But it was too late. Mary recognized that she had given her heart boldly away and that it would never be hers again. And she was stricken. Not only did the past and present conspire against them, so did many avid, ruthless players. Even if he did care about her, and she was truly beginning to believe that he did, what kind of future could they possibly have?
Mary reached for him.“Someone tried to kill me.”
“I know.”
But before his words were even out, it struck Mary that Adele Beaufort had engineered the attempt on her life. No one else had known she would be on the wharves at that hour, that day.
“What is it?”
She raised her shocked gaze to his. “My lord,” she whispered, horrified, “only one person knew of my plans to escape!”
“Adele Beaufort?”
She was sick. She nodded dumbly.
“Adele had help in arranging your escape. We cannot be sure that she was behind the attempt on your life. There are many factions against us, Mary.”
Mary had been near tears; now she froze. “Who? Who is against our union, Stephen?”
“Must you know?”
Her temper flared. “I would know who is my friend and who is my foe, yes!”
“Adele’s brother is furious that she has been cast aside. Montgomery fears that Northumberland’s power outstrips Shrewsbury. And Duncan—”
