He nodded, looking exhausted, she realized, his face drawn, his eyes shadowed. “I’m listening, Aisling.”
“You’re my perfect match in every way, Will Cooper. My heart’s desire, everything I’ve ever wanted in a man. All these years, I’ve resisted my mother’s efforts, refused to have a season, refused to marry Thomas Esterbrooke, because I knew—deep in my heart—that I wasn’t meant to be some fancy gentleman’s wife, the mere possession of some man who would never consider me his equal, his partner. I think deep down I always knew I was meant to be yours—a botanist’s wife, an artist’s lover.”
Will’s mouth twitched, as if he was suppressing a smile. “Just so you know, I’ll never be able to afford a country house, an estate like the one you grew up in. I don’t go to London unless I have to, and I employ no servants. My life is simple, modest—nothing like yours and Jack’s. I’m not certain it’s fair to ask you to give up the things you’re accustomed to, the privilege you were born to.”
Aisling shook her head, desperate to make him see, to make him understand. “But without you, those things mean nothing to me, Will. I know it sounds trite, melodramatic, even. But it’s the truth. I’ve never been more sure of anything in all my life.”
“Your parents will never approve. They’ll likely disown you, you know.”
“That’s their misfortune, then. Besides, Jack will be on our side.”
He cocked one brow. “What makes you say that?”
“A conversation we had just yesterday. He doesn’t know, was only speaking hypothetically. But he made his approval perfectly clear.”
“You really think we can do this?” Will asked, dropping his hat to the ground and reaching for her hand.
“Well, just so you know, I won’t be anything near an obedient wife, and I throw things when I get angry. I can’t cook, so you’ll have to do more than just get your own tea. Oh, and I don’t care how fashionable it is to take a mistress. I’ll require full fidelity, utter devotion—otherwise, I’ll castrate you myself,” she teased, her racing heart slowing at last.
“I have no doubt that you would,” he said with a laugh. “Anything else I should be aware of?”
“I think that’s about it. For now, at least. I’m sure I can come up with more later.”
“So, it was Esterbrooke then, was it?” Will asked with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Gad, I almost wish I didn’t know that. Now every time I see the man, I’ll be tempted to knock his bloody teeth down his throat.”
She couldn’t help but smile, strangely pleased by his show of jealousy. “Trust me, Will, he’s no competition, none at all. When I compare…well, never mind that.”
Will removed his gloves, shoving them into his pockets, and then he pulled her up against his chest, his lips just inches from hers. “So, what do we do now?”
“I can think of several things. Several naughty things, in fact.”
“You do realize you’re still wearing your driving goggles, don’t you?” he asked, grinning down at her.
“Hell and damnation!” She reached up to her face, surprised to find that she was still wearing them. With a wince, she removed them, shoving them into her coat pocket. “How foolish I must have looked! Why on earth didn’t you tell me before now?”
He shrugged, pulling her back against his chest, stroking the sides of her face with his callused thumbs. “You looked so charming, having your say while wearing them. You can’t even imagine…threatening to cut off my bollocks while you glared at me, looking almost cross-eyed. It was adorable, really.”
Slowly, his mouth moved toward hers, his eyes never leaving her face. Aisling thought she’d go mad, waiting for his kiss, wanting him, needing him. When their lips touched at last, she moaned, barely able to stand the very exquisiteness of it. Gently, tenderly, he captured her lower lip, suckled it, his hands sliding down her back, cupping her bottom as he drew her closer still.
Tipping her head back, she opened her mouth against his—inviting him, near enough begging him. He answered her silent plea, taking her mouth harder this time, tasting and retreating ’til Aisling flung her arms around his neck and refused to let him go, kissing him deeply, thoroughly, until they were both breathless.
“Have you any idea how badly I want you, Aisling?” he asked, his voice rough and ragged.
“Right here? In the circle of stones?” she teased, trying to catch her breath.
“Why not? I’m sure this place has seen such things before, back in ancient times. Some Druid ritual, perhaps.” He dragged her toward the tallest of the stones, pressing her back against it, caging her in with both hands on either side of her head.
She ducked under his arms. “Yes, but afterward you’d probably be expected to sacrifice me.” When he turned to face her, she leaned into him, pressing herself against his erection while she nipped at his neck.
“Do you have a problem with that?” he asked, smiling wickedly. “Me, sacrificing you to the gods?”
In reply, she moved her hand to his cock, grasping it tightly through his wool trousers.
“Yes? Well, then, we’ll do it differently. Start a new tradition.” He captured her around the waist and lifted her, pushing her back against the stone. Bending down, he reached under the hem of her coat, under her skirt and petticoat, trailing his hands up her limbs, to her hips, bunching her skirts up at her waist. “Are you cold?” he asked, reaching for the tapes that held up her drawers.
“Warm me,” she answered with a shrug. Reaching for his coat, she began to unbutton it, one by one. “Fuck me—right here, right now.”
“Trying to shock me again, I see,” he murmured, slipping a finger inside her wet sheath, making her gasp with pleasure. “And here I thought you were a proper young lady. A baronet’s daughter.”
“Didn’t you know?” she said breathlessly as he began to stroke her. “I’m to be married to a botanist—a very wicked one. Now unfasten your trousers.”
“Bossy, too,” he said, pushing open the front of her coat, exposing her throat, pressing his lips against her lace collar, his breath warm and moist against her skin. “But I suppose one of us will have to be obedient.”
She felt him fumble with his trousers and sighed with relief when she felt the tip of him pressing against her sex, searching for entrance. Raising one leg, she hitched it around his hip.
“This botanist,” he said, his voice gruff. “Do you love him?”
“Oh!” she cried out as he thrust into her, pinning her against the stone. “Yes. Yes, I love him.”
Again, he thrust into her—harder, more insistent this time. “Then he’s the luckiest man alive.” Faster, harder, he began to drive into her. Aisling met his every thrust, tilting her hips toward his, her breathing growing more ragged as the now-familiar coil of pleasure made her begin to tremble, made her limbs go weak, made her sex weep with desire.
With one last thrust, Will pushed her over the edge, her insides pulsating against the length of him as his hot seed pumped into her, warming her.
“Dear God, Aisling,” he groaned, collapsing against her. “My love,” he whispered. “My life.”
Aisling’s heart swelled, a quiet sob tore from her throat as tears burned behind her eyelids. Only this time they were happy tears, she realized. Good tears. Tears of joy. One slipped down her cheek, but Will’s thumb wiped it away before it reached her chin.
“You,” he said, his gaze meeting hers, their bodies still joined, “are the most exquisite creature I’ve ever known.”
Return his head, upon my breast, burn bright of winter’s desire. The words slipped into her mind, uninvited. A line from the poem, the one she’d just torn into a million little bits. And yet…it was fitting, wasn’t it?
Thank you, she thought, for returning him to me. Whatever the cause, whatever the reason…it didn’t matter. She had her winter’s desire, and she was never letting him go.
Kissing her softly on the forehead, Will withdrew from her, reaching down to fasten hi
s trousers. With gentle hands, he pulled up her drawers, retying the tapes before smoothing back down her skirts. “I do hope you’re not freezing,” he murmured against her temple.
“No,” she said, finding her voice at last. “It’s so warm today. Perfect, really, for such outdoor pursuits as this.”
“Come with me, back to my mother’s cottage. I’ve got something for you there. If I can find it again, that is. It would seem that I throw things when I’m angry, too.” He retrieved his hat and tipped it back on his head, then held out his hand to her.
Aisling just nodded, linking her fingers with his.
“So, what do you think of our new tradition? Here in the circle, I mean?” he asked, smiling down at her with that lazy, cocky grin she loved so well.
She gave his hand a squeeze. “I think we should return here each year and repeat it. On the winter solstice, perhaps.”
“Didn’t it snow this year on the solstice?”
Aisling shrugged. “We’ll just be quick about it, that’s all.”
Suddenly Will stopped and turned back toward the stones. “Wait, what about that box? The little wooden one with the strange symbol on it. You left it in the circle.”
“Oh, I don’t need it anymore,” she said without glancing back. “Besides, I think it belongs there.” She tugged on Will’s hand, and with a nod he matched his step to hers.
A wind picked up as the lovers continued, their heads bent together in quiet conversation, their laughter echoing through the copse of trees. Back in the circle of stones, the little pieces of parchment lifted off the ground, swirling briefly around the circle like snow, and then scattered on the breeze, disappearing into the mist.
Hope reborn, come with the sun
dispel the chill of darkness
bright fire of dawn
reach to our hearts
burn bright of winter’s desire.
WINTER’S DESIRE
ISBN: 978-1-4592-4278-4
Copyright © 2009 by Spice Books.
The publisher acknowledges the copyright holders
of the individual works as follows:
WINTER AWAKENING
Copyright © 2009 by Pamela Johnson.
MIDNIGHT WHISPERS
Copyright © 2009 by Charlotte Featherstone.
LOVER’S DAWN
Copyright © 2009 by Kristina Cook Hort.
All rights reserved. The reproduction, transmission or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without written permission. For permission please contact Spice Books, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario M3B 3K9, Canada.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Spice and Colophon are trademarks used under license and registered in Australia, New Zealand, Philippines, United States Patent and Trademark Office and in other countries.
www.Spice-Books.com
Winter’s Desire Page 29