He jerked and caught her hand, holding her there, moaning into her mouth.
She stroked him but was impatient. She began to shimmy from her wet drawers.
“Not this way,” he whispered against her ear. “We cannot remain here all night. I want to do it properly.”
“But... but...” she insisted, kissing him, “there are so many ways to properly do it. Quickly can be properly.”
He chuckled and shook his head. “I’ll not get you with child until you are my wife, S’bell. You deserve this much.”
She made a noise of frustration, she kicked her feet, but in her head and in her heart, she fell a little more in love.
“So how do you want it instead,” he growled, kissing her. He was tall enough to touch the bottom of the pool, and he walked to the side, carrying her.
“I beg your pardon?” she managed.
“You will see stars before we leave here, Isobel, evenif I don’t.” He moved his own hand to her center, and she gasped at the contact.
“I see more than stars,” she panted, blinking at the hanging green light in the sky.
“No,” he teased, tracing kisses down her throat, and then lower, to her breasts. “Not that way. Close your eyes.”
Isobel complied, and the duke feasted on her body with hands and mouth, sending her to a place that she’d never been. When she reached climax, she was consumed by the shimmers that had teased her from the first day he came to her. She was a woman-shaped pile of shimmering love and light, floating against him. She opened her eyes and saw every shade of green and blue and indigo glittering above her. She saw her future in a hazy glow of warm, soft light. She wanted to turn away, to not risk burning her eyes, but she allowed herself to take it all in, to bask, to absorb it.
When, finally, her sense returned, she realized she was kissing him—he was such a good kisser—and she reached into the water for his body, but he gently pulled her hand away.
“There’s no time,” he said. “The wagon will have made it to the brig by now. You and I cannot be long after. The pirates may not find us here, but they can row downriver to their ship and pursue us in the harbor. We must put as much distance between ourselves and Iceland as possible.”
He gave her a final kiss and then shoved from the pool, water sluicing down his glorious body.
Isobel nodded dumbly, reaching up. He pulled, sliding her from the pool to balance beside him.
She glanced down. His drawers were strained by his hard, demanding length. She put one hand on his chestand reached for him with the other. “Jason . . .” she began.
He made a hissing noise and doubled over, grabbing her hand at the wrist.
“I’m endeavoring to do the correct thing here, Isobel,” he rasped. “Do not make it impossible. You will owe me, and I will expect a great many things from that debt, but let us not dash this mission in the eleventh hour.”
She slid her hand away, and he gave a full-body shudder. He swore and cleared his throat.
He turned away. “Get dressed?” he suggested, shucking his wet drawers and wrestling into his dry clothes. Isobel did the same, shivering now without the hot water.
“It’s cold,” she said.
“Take my coat.” He dropped his greatcoat over her shirt and buckskins.
“What will your friend Declan Shaw and the captives think when I return wearing your coat?” she asked. “Oh, and how is your cousin? The merchants looked wretched.”
“Reggie? He’s fine. Hungry and defeated, but he will survive. There are other captives in far worse condition. The pirates were brutal. It nearly killed me to leave you with them.”
“You should have seen me,” she sighed, rubbing the flank of her horse. “I was a spinning top. Once I danced them into the tavern, I was home free.”
Jason shook his head and smiled, a wordless show of admiration. He vaulted into the saddle and Isobel smiled too, admiring his muscled grace.
Mounting the mare, she followed Jason up an embankment out of the canyon, shrugging into the warm, musk-smelling confines of his coat.
“Jason?” she called.
“S’bell,” he answered. Her stomach flipped.
