Conor

by Ruth Ryan Langan

  impossible. We can have no future."

  "Then we'll have this night, Conor." She brought her other hand to his

  chest. "And we'll make it enough."

  He cleared his throat, struggling to find the right words. For a man

  who prided himself on his ability as an orator, his gift had suddenly

  failed him. "You realize that when we leave here, we'll have to return

  to the palace, Emma. A palace filled with whispers and rumors. And

  danger at every turn."

  "I'll risk it." She brought her lips to his and thrilled to the swift rush of

  heat. "As long as you're there with me."

  On a moan he returned the kiss and thought about crush-ing her in his

  arms. But, though the temptation was great, he knew he had to try

  once more to convince her of the folly of this.

  "I can't be with you every minute, Emma." He caught her hand when

  she pressed it to his cheek. Struggled to remember what he'd been

  about to say. "There will be long separations. And many dangers."

  She saw the way his eyes darkened with a flare of heat. So, he was not

  immune to her touch. She brought her other hand to cup his face.

  Then she lowered her mouth to his. Against his lips she murmured,

  "Is the brave Conor O'Neil afraid of the dark?"

  "Of the dark?" He backed away and caught the hands that were

  causing such a rush of feelings along his spine. "Nay, my lady. It isn't

  the dark that frightens me. It's the woman who plays the temptress

  one minute, then hides like a child the next."

  Her tone deepened with anger. "I'm not a child, Conor."

  "Aren't you?" He stood up and drew her fractionally closer.

  "Nay." She lifted her chin in defiance. "I'm a woman, or haven't you

  noticed?"

  "Oh, I've noticed. I've noticed that you change as the mood suits you.

  Right now you're playing the part of a temptress. But it doesn't suit

  you at all, Emma. You see?" He tightened his grip. "Here's the proof.

  Your hand is trembling."

  With boldness she didn't feel, she placed her other hand on his chest. '

  'And your heart is pounding like a runaway carriage. Does that mean I

  frighten you, too?"

  For a moment he didn't say a word, but merely stared into her eyes.

  Then he dragged her against him and pressed his lips to her temple.

  "You absolutely terrify me, Emma. God in heaven, how much is a

  man supposed to take? If I stay here with you, I'll have to kiss you.

  And if I kiss you, I'll have to do more. I'll have to have you. All of

  you. Do you understand?"

  She let out the breath she'd been unconsciously holding. "Aye, Conor.

  I understand perfectly. It's the same for me."

  He held her a little away and stared at her as though he'd been struck

  by lightning.

  "The words..." She took a deep breath, then said in a rush, "The words

  aren't as easy for me as they are for you, Conor. But I love you. Oh, I

  do love you. Desperately. And have, for a very long time."

  For several long moments he framed her face with his hands and

  merely studied her. Then he drew her into the circle of his arms and

  covered her mouth with his in a savage kiss.

  The heat was so swift, so sudden, neither of them had time to react.

  The kiss was long and deep and so filled with hunger, that each of

  them fed from it, frantic to fill the aching void.

  Once again Emma was aware of the carefully controlled strength in

  the arms that held her. And of the carefully controlled passion in him

  as well. Each time he'd touched her, kissed her, she'd felt it. But this

  time it was barely contained, threatening to break free at any moment.

  Her body felt boneless, fluid, as he dragged her against him and

  savaged her mouth.

  She leaned into him, wrapping her arms around his neck, fueling the

  need. It seemed so right. Though his kiss held no gentleness, though

  the hands that held her were almost bruising in their intensity, she felt

  no fear. Though he was still a man of too many mysteries, she knew

  this much. She loved him. And though he hadn't said the words yet,

  he loved her. Only her. For now, that was all that mattered.

  The need for him grew. The need so long denied. To be held. To be

  loved. To be cherished.

  Holding her firmly against him, Conor could feel her heartbeat inside

  his own chest. It matched his. Thundering. Erratic. And her breathing,

  like his, shallow and strained. He heard a hoarse voice whispering her

  name and recognized it as his own.

  He tore his lips from hers to rush in desperation over her face, her

  neck, her throat. The need for her continued to grow until it bordered

  on panic. He had to have her. All of her. Body. Soul. Mind. Or he

  would go mad.

  "Say it again, Emma." He spoke the words against her mouth.

  "I love you, Conor. Desperate—"

  He cut off her words with a long slow kiss, drawing it out until she

  sighed and her lips parted for him. His tongue tangled with hers,

  drawing out all the pleasure until they were both lost in it.

  He brushed his lips over her eyelids, her cheeks, the tip of her nose.

  "Do you know how precious you are to me, Emma?" Before she

  could speak he nibbled the corner of her mouth, then brought his lips

  lower to the hollow of her throat.

  This time, instead of words, he was determined to show her all that he

  was feeling. Despite the hard, driving needs, he forced himself to go

  slowly, to keep his touches, his kisses, as gentle as possible. But he

  knew that soon, very soon, she would discover the darker side of his

  passion. A passion that could very well devour them both.

  With his tongue he traced the curve of her ear, nibbling, whispering

  words that had her shivering with pleasure. When his tongue darted

  inside she gave a gasp of pleasure and clutched at his tunic. He pulled

  her closer, burning a trail of fire along her throat. She moaned with

  pleasure and clung to him, afraid that at any moment her trembling

  legs would fail her.

  As if reading her mind he caught her hand and together they dropped

  to their knees in the cool, fragrant grass of the meadow. But it offered

  no soothing balm to the frantic needs that were driving them.

  ' 'If you need time, Emma, to think, to change your mind, I'll

  understand." Even as he said it, Conor cursed himself for a liar. He

  would have to die if she walked away from him now. He would beg,

  plead, even crawl to have her.

  "I need no time to think. I want you, Conor. I want this." She twined

  her arms around his neck, offering her lips.

  He hesitated, needing this one moment of honesty. "I can make you

  no promises, my lady. I am committed to this life I live at court. To

  this queen, who holds the fate of our country in her hands."

  She felt the stab of pain. Quick. Jagged. A blow from a sword would

  have been kinder. She caught her breath on the pain, then forced it

  aside. "I'll ask nothing more of you than this.','

  A lie, she knew. She wanted so much more. She wanted it all. Home.

  Marriage. Children. A lifetime of love with this man. But she would

  settle for whatever he was willing, or ab
le, to offer.

  He took her mouth with a hunger that shocked them both. His kisses

  were by turn harsh, then gentle, as he struggled with the needs that

  begged for release. He wanted her. Wanted to take her, here and now.

  But what she was offering was so precious, so priceless, he owed it to

  her, to them both, not to waste a moment of it. It wasn't enough to

  merely take what she offered; he wanted to give in return. As much

  care as he could manage. As much patience as she deserved. As much

  pleasure as he could provide.

  Around them the night creatures scurried. A bird cried and its mate

  answered. The leaves of a nearby tree rustled as an owl returned to its

  nest with food for its young. The horse stomped and tossed its head,

  sending its mane flying. But the man and woman locked in each

  other's embracetook no notice. For now the world beyond them no

  longer existed. They were no longer strangers on foreign soil. The

  queen and her court were forgotten. As were the life and death

  schemes that were being played out around them. For now there was

  only each other and these few stolen moments.

  Though he was a man on fire with needs, Conor banked them,

  determined to go slowly for Emma's sake. He would allow her to set

  the pace, to savor each moment.

  His kisses gentled, as did his touch and his whispered endearments.

  With teeth and tongue and fingertips he explored her face, her neck,

  her throat. And with each touch he felt her body grow more tense, her

  breathing more shallow. As did his own.

  Time was forgotten. The rush to return to the palace no longer

  mattered. The night closed around them, its darkness lending a

  soothing magic to the moment. They felt alone in the universe.

  Except for the moon and stars, nothing else existed.

  "Do you know how long I've wanted you, Emma? Wanted this?"

  She relaxed in his arms, steeped in pleasure. All her fears slipped

  away. Her family was safe now, far from Celestine's threats. Because

  of this man. Her duties at the palace no longer mattered. All that

  mattered was this man. Conor would love her. And that love would

  keep her safe from all harm.

  As his kisses grew more passionate, her breath came more quickly.

  Her body heated, her blood flowed hotly through her veins.

  Conor felt the gradual change in her and thrilled to it. It wasn't

  surrender she gave. Nor was it surrender he craved. It was trust. Even

  though there were still so many things about himself he couldn't share

  with her, she was willing to trust him. It humbled him. And filled him

  with a strange sense of wonder and pride. Though she knew not

  where he was leading, she trusted him enough to follow.

  He reached for the rough tunic and breeches that hid her beauty. With

  infinite patience he undressed her. As he did so, he allowed his lips to

  brush her naked flesh. She trembled and sighed in his arms, which

  only excited him more.

  He held her a little away and studied her in the thin ribbon of

  moonlight. "Emma." His voice was barely more than a whisper on the

  breeze. "You're so beautiful, so perfect, you take my breath away."

  No one had ever seen her as he had. Nor had anyone ever spoken such

  words. She kept her eyes steady on his as she reached for his tunic. As

  she slid it from his shoulders she brushed her lips across his

  hair-roughened chest. She felt a flutter of excitement when he

  moaned and trembled. It was her touch that thrilled him. Her kiss that

  filled him.

  Drunk with such power she reached for the fasteners at his waist.

  When her fingers fumbled, he helped her until his clothes were

  discarded carelessly with hers, forming a cushion beneath them.

  They knelt facing each other. Without a word he combed his fingers

  through her hair, pulling her head back, staring deeply into her eyes.

  He covered her mouth with his in a kiss that spoke of hunger, of needs

  so long denied. Of a need to touch and be touched. A need to give and

  take. A desperate need to share.

  She wrapped her arms around his waist and pressed her mouth to his

  throat. At that simple contact she felt his muscles contract. And then

  his hands were moving over her, arousing, enticing, until she felt her

  body straining with need.

  Now his touch was no longer gentle, but rough, almost bruising. His

  kisses grew fierce, demanding. Now she experienced the darker side

  of this man. The darker side of his passion. The face he showed to the

  world was of a charming, smiling rogue. But the stranger who

  emerged was now an insistent lover who began to take, to feast, to

  devour. He excited her, even while he frightened her. And the

  knowledge that it was her touch, her taste, that aroused him made her

  bold.

  She pressed kisses to his neck, his chest. At his moan of pleasure she

  grew bolder still, running moist kisses across his stomach, exploring

  him as he was exploring her. With each sigh, each moan of pleasure,

  she grew bolder still.

  Together they feasted, they devoured. Each gave and took until,

  half-mad, they felt themselves slip over the edge of reason.

  Conor was beyond thought. His body was alive with needs. Needs

  that only she could fill. He had intended to go slowly, but he could no

  longer rein in his smoldering desire. With her passion unleashed, he

  was at last free to take her to places she had never gone before.

  Straining with need he lay with her in the grass and brought his lips to

  her breast. Her nipple hardened at his touch and he feasted until she

  writhed and moaned. He moved to the other breast to nibble and

  suckle until she cried out for release.

  Her breath was coming harder, faster now, as she clutched at him and

  sobbed his name.

  The night air around them was cool, but still the heat rose up between

  them, clogging their lungs, leaving their skin damp with sheen.

  She trembled as he moved over her, his flesh damp and abrasive,

  adding to the exquisite pleasure. He felt her stiffen and gasp his name

  as, with lips and fingertips, he brought her to the first peak.

  Her body was still shuddering. He gave her no time to think, to

  breathe, as he continued to move over her. His voice was low now,

  rough and urgent, as he touched her in ways she'd never even

  dreamed of. Each touch brought more pleasure. Intense pleasure that

  bordered on pain.

  "Conor. Please. Now. I want you. Now." She kept her eyes steady on

  his, though they were glazed now with passion. She hadn't thought it

  possible to want more. But she did.

  He let the madness take him over the edge. When he entered her she

  wrapped herself around him, wanting to hold on to him like this

  forever.

  And then she was moving with him, matching his strength.

  He watched her, wanting to see her, to fill himself with her, with the

  touch of her hands warm upon him, and the taste of her, like the

  sweetest of wildflowers filling his lungs.

  He knew that, in years to come, while he was far from home and,

  fighting to keep his country free, when he was missi
ng Ballinarin and

  all that he held dear, he would think of her, and this night, and be

  warmed by the memory.

  And then there was no time to think as they began to move together

  toward a distant star. He whispered her name like a litany, over and

  over, as their bodies shuddered and seemed to splinter. And then they

  were soaring, floating, drifting. Still holding tightly to each other,

  afraid if they let go, for even a moment, they would shatter like

  fragile glass.

  Chapter Eighteen

  For the longest time they lay, unable, unwilling to move, their

  breathing shallow, their bodies slick with sheen.

  With great effort Conor managed to lift his head. "Am I too heavy for

  you?"

  Emma was afraid to speak. Afraid if she did, her voice would tremble

  and he would realize how overcome with emotion she was. Instead

  she merely shook her head.

  "If you're cold, love, I could toss my cloak over us."

  Love. His easy use of that endearment brought the tears ever closer.

  She merely waved a hand, then let it fall back limply.

  Alarmed, he levered himself above her and stared down at her. Seeing

  the glimmer of moisture on her lashes he felt as if he'd taken a knife to

  the heart. "Ah, no, Emma. I've hurt you. I've been a brute. I don't

  know my own strength sometimes. I'm so sorry."

  "Conor." She lifted a hand to his cheek. "You didn't hurt me. I'm not

  really crying. Well, I am. But ever since I've mef you I seem to do

  that. It's just..." She sighed. "It was so incredible. I hadn't known it

  would be like that."

  "Truly? That's the only reason for the tears?"

  She nodded.

  He felt his heart begin to beat again. Touching his forehead to hers he

  whispered, "Then you're not sorry?"

  "Sorry? Oh, Conor, how could I be sorry about what we've just

  shared?"

  He rolled to one side, cradling her against him. "You know Emma, I

  knew you were a maiden. I really didn't mean to...I hadn't planned

  this..."

  She placed a hand over his mouth. "Shh. I know. I was the one who