She wished she could stay like this forever, but too soon he rolled off her, breaking the connection.
Cool air swept over her flushed, damp skin, making it prickle with gooseflesh. She was conscious of her nakedness but too spent to move. Her limbs were like jelly. But she had no cause for embarrassment; Arthur wasn't looking at her.
He stared up at the ceiling, still breathing unevenly but ominously quiet.
Shouldn't he be saying something?
She bit her lip, wondering what he was thinking. It had seemed wonderful to her, but what if--she felt a pang--she'd disappointed him?
At last he turned his head to the side to look at her. Lifting his hand to her face, he gently swept the hair back from her face. Seeing her uncertainty, he smiled--a lopsided, boyish smile that wrapped right around her heart and would never let go. She knew she would never forget how he looked at this moment.
"I'm sorry, I don't know what to say. I've never ... I've never felt anything like that."
She beamed back at him, unable to hide her joy. "Really? I didn't have anything to compare it with, but I thought it was wonderful."
"Aye, it was." He bent down and gave her a tender kiss. But when he lifted his head to look at her again, his gaze had clouded. "I'll never regret what just happened, Anna, but for your sake I wish it hadn't."
Anna felt a flicker of unease, hearing the unmistakable air of warning, but she pushed it aside, refusing to let anything cloud the moment.
Instinctively, she tucked herself against him, nestling under his arm and resting her head on his shoulder. "I'm glad it did," she said.
Now they were bound together and nothing could break them apart.
Arthur gazed down at the tiny, naked woman snuggled in his arms and felt his heart catch. What they'd just shared had been unlike anything he'd ever experienced. He'd had more than his fair share of women, but swiving for him had always been about sating lust. He'd see to a woman's pleasure and she would see to his with one goal in mind--release. Once accomplished, that was the end of it. He didn't linger. And he sure as hell didn't want to hold her in his arms and wish that they could stay like this forever.
Compared to what had just happened with Anna, what had come before seemed almost mechanical--as if he'd just been going through the motions to get the prize.
But with Anna, the prize had been the experience itself. The pleasure was in the exploration, in the discovery, and in the details. It was in the way she responded to his touch--the arch of her back, the press of her hips, and the little sounds that came from her lips. It was the look in her eyes when he slid into her, the flush that spread over her cheeks as she neared her release, and the way her head fell back and lips parted when she finally found it.
He hadn't been able to look away. He usually avoided eye contact, but with Anna he'd sought the connection. He wanted the closeness.
He rested his cheek on the top of her head, savoring the silky softness of her hair. She was so sweet and beautiful. And so damned trusting. A fierce swell of protectiveness rose inside him. And something else. Something warm and tender and powerful. Something he'd never thought was meant for him.
He'd thought himself different. That he didn't need anyone. That he was happy being alone. But he'd been fooling himself. He wasn't different at all. He needed her. Wanted her. Loved her with a ferocity that surprised him.
Maybe he could find a way to explain. To beg her forgiveness. Maybe there was hope ...
Ah hell. A knot fisted in his gut as he pulled himself back to reality. Who was he fooling? She would never forgive him. How could she, when he was here to destroy all that she held dear?
He loved her, but it didn't change a damned thing. It would only make what was to come more painful. When he finished what he'd come to do, there would be no chance for them.
He loved her, but his loyalty was to Bruce. He had a mission to complete, not only for the king but for his father.
In a different time--in a place uncomplicated by war and feuds--they might have a chance. But not here. Not today.
Yet he wished ...
God, how he wished it were different.
She peeked up at him from under her lashes. "I'm sure we aren't the first betrothed couple to anticipate the wedding night."
The stab of guilt deepened. That was the problem: There would be no wedding night. Not when she discovered the truth. He was an arse. A dishonorable arse. What could he have been thinking?
He knew exactly what he'd been thinking. That he wanted her more than he'd ever wanted anything in his life, and that he'd do anything to hold on to her. Consciously or unconsciously, he'd wanted to bind her to him in a way that could not be undone. Not even by deceit and betrayal.
It was desperate. It was selfish. It was wrong. It would only serve to give her more cause to hate him. But it was done, and he could not change it even if he wanted to.
"Nay," he said. "Not the first, but under the circumstances we should have waited." He drew her against him, his voice as fierce as his hold. He was a selfish bastard, but he swore when this damned battle was over he'd give her a choice. He would fight for her--for them--if she would let him. "I will come back to you, Anna. If you want me, I will come back."
