Sunlight sparkled upon the water, interwoven streaks of gold broken only by the white-flecked current, a splashing fish, or a gusting breeze. Reflected in its depths was a sky of azure blue. Lush green grass covered the rolling banks, like a velvet carpet falling into the water, and towering trees lined ragged shores—
Kassandra's heart pitched as her wide-eyed gaze suddenly fell upon Stefan. He was sitting with his back to her almost at the edge of a grassy knoll overlooking the river, a short distance from where she stood.
Quelling a rush of apprehension, she pushed away from the tree. She moved slowly behind him, her footfalls masked by the soft grass. She could tell he was lost in thought, his arms around a raised knee, his other leg stretched out in front of him. It was only when she laid her hand gently upon his shoulder that he started in surprise and jumped to his feet, whirling to face her.
"Kassandra! What the devil?" he shouted. He eyed her warily. "What are you doing here?"
She hesitated a moment. She had so much to say to him, to explain to him . . . she didn't know how to begin. She took a tentative step toward him, her eyes locking with his own.
"I've come to meet the man who has won my love," she murmured evenly, ignoring the fierce beating of her heart.
Stefan winced, his face darkening. So this must have been where she would meet her lover, he thought angrily. How ironic that she had discovered this particular spot on the river, his favorite sanctuary, for her liaisons. How fitting. But, damn it all, why did she have to torture him? Did she hate him so much she would now flaunt her lover before him?
He turned to study the shoreline. There was no sign of anyone yet. He looked back at her, consumed with barely controlled rage. No! He would not have it. Elsewhere perhaps, but not on his land, and not here.
"If the man is fool enough to trespass on my land," Stefan grated, "he will surely face the sting of my sword."
Kassandra couldn't breathe, the force of his pain almost too much to bear. She saw it reflected in his eyes, the gray depths that could stir her with only a casual glance; she read it in the taut stance of his powerful body and in his expression, his ruggedly handsome features set, implacable, strangely pale despite his bronzed skin. How she had hurt him. How they had hurt each other. She had to choose her words carefully, carefully . . .
"If that is so," she said softly, "then you will be plunging your blade into your own heart."
Stefan stood motionless, his blood roaring in his ears. When he spoke at last, his voice was a dangerous whisper. "So you mock me even now, Kassandra. "
"No!" she exclaimed, rushing up to him and placing her fingers upon his lips. "Never." He flinched at her touch, seizing her wrist in a cruel grip.
Kassandra winced against the pain but held her ground, her chin trembling as she shook her head. "There has never been another man, Stefan," she murmured. "Only you."
He quaked at her words, shaken to the very depths of his soul. Ever so gradually, as the agonizing torment ebbed from his body, his grip loosened. His eyes burned into her own as he brought her hand to his mouth, his lips searing into her flesh as he kissed her open palm. "Kassandra . . ." he moaned raggedly, his arm encircling her waist, drawing her close. "Kassandra . . ."
She lifted her hand to his bent head, her fingers stroking his thick black hair. "I love you, Stefan."
His mouth captured her own before she could draw a breath. He kissed her with all the passion he possessed, yet with infinite tenderness, saying without words what was etched indelibly upon his heart. Nothing else mattered, no explanations, no apologies . . . only the kiss they shared. The past was forgotten, lost in the face of impassioned forgiveness, and there was only the future, shining before them.
With an exultant cry, Stefan picked her up in his arms, her feet dangling off the ground. They twirled around and around, a wild shower of kisses raining upon cheeks, eyelids, tips of noses, smiling lips. Incredible joy, the sweetest rapture . . . they were drunk with it, giddy, then it seemed the ground moved from beneath them, and they were falling through space—
Kassandra shrieked in shock as they hit the cold water with a mighty splash, her cry cut off when she sank beneath the sunlit surface. Then she was catapulted upward by Stefan's strong arms, sputtering and gasping for air as she emerged from the shoulder-high depths. Stunned, she gaped at him through spiky lashes, her chest heaving, her teeth chattering, her riding habit a sodden weight upon her chilled body. He was as drenched as she, rivulets running down his face, his clothes molded to the rugged breadth of his shoulders and chest. And he was grinning from ear to ear.
"It appears, my lady, that I . . . misjudged . . . the shoreline!" he gasped, holding her close against him to prevent the strong underlying currents from forcing them apart. He kissed her with a loud smack, a low chuckle rumbling in his throat. Then he threw back his head and laughed uproariously, the deep, rich peals echoing all around them.
Kassandra thrilled at the sound, joining in, her bright laughter merging with his own. It felt so good to laugh, to love! She entwined her arms around his neck as he lifted her easily in his arms and waded to shore against the tugging current, climbing onto the sloping bank, where he sank to his knees and set her gently upon the soft grass.
He fell beside her and rolled onto his back, wiping his hands across his face and through his hair. They lay there for a few moments, staring up into the wide blue sky, their panting breaths punctuated by short bursts of laughter.
Kassandra threw her arms above her head, luxuriating in the golden warmth of the sun through her soaked clothing. But the mid-April breeze was cool. She shivered, her teeth still chattering.
"I . . . I w-wonder what Isabel and . . . m-my . . . father . . . will think when th-they see us," she stammered, glancing at Stefan with a quivering smile.
"They'll be none the wiser," Stefan answered enigmatically, sitting up. He bent over her and planted a warm, lingering kiss on her chilled lips, then drew away and rose to his feet. He held out his hand to her. "Come with me, Kassandra."
With a puzzled look she took his hand. He pulled her up beside him, and they walked back to the grassy knoll where he had been sitting. He picked up his light woolen cloak and wrapped it securely around her shoulders. Then they set out hand in hand along the trail to the hunting lodge. The walk seemed much shorter going back, despite numerous pauses for breathless kisses, and soon they were standing just outside the lodge.
Kassandra gasped in surprise as he swept her in his arms and carried her through the door, standing ajar, just as she had left it. He kicked it shut and set her down in the middle of the floor, then moved to the fireplace. In a matter of minutes, tiny orange flames were licking at the dry kindling and logs piled high upon the grates.
Stefan rose to his feet and shrugged off his drenched outercoat, his fingers working at the buttons on his sodden waistcoat. "Take off your clothes, Kassandra, and we'll dry them in front of the fireplace," he murmured with his back to her.
With a deep laugh he removed his boots and poured the water from them into a bucket, before setting them aside, then draped his dripping garments over a chair near the fire. That left only his breeches. He turned, unfastening the row of vertical buttons, but stopped at the stricken look on Kassandra's face. She was still standing in the middle of the room, a small puddle forming around her feet.
Kassandra's skin fired hotly at his startled expression, and she lowered her eyes, embarrassed. She felt like such a fool! But when he began to undress, she could not quell the hint of fear that this was all a dream. Scarcely a week had passed, and now suddenly everything was so different between them. Things were happening so fast! She needed some time before . . . before . . .
She blushed bright pink, so lost in her confused thoughts, she didn't hear him walk up to her. She started as he gently lifted her chin, his eyes searching her own.
"Kassandra, we have all the time in the world," Stefan murmured soothingly, as if he had read her mind. "There is no need to ru
sh things. When you are ready, we'll both know it. It's enough for now that we love." He bent and tenderly kissed her flushed cheek. "If you'd like, I shall turn my back and close my eyes as you undress," he offered with a playful smile, "and I'll leave these on." He glanced down at his breeches. "Agreed?"
Kassandra nodded, blinking back the tears swimming in her eyes as Stefan walked to the fireplace and leaned his muscled arms on the mantel. She cast off his cloak and undressed quickly, peeling off layer after layer of soaked clothing, her riding coat, wide skirt, petticoat, chemise, boots, stockings. She hung everything on the other high-backed chair, propping her boots beside Stefan's.
"Why don't you wrap yourself in a fur, my love," Stefan suggested, sensing she was near him. It was all he could do to keep his eyes closed, knowing what a fetching sight she must be. But he was determined not to betray her trust, despite the burning ache in his loins. "There are plenty on the bed."
Kassandra's gaze darted from his face, his striking profile highlighted in the glow of the flames, his eyelids tightly shut, to the bed. She ran across the floor and seized a soft fur, whirling it around her shoulders and clutching it to her body. She turned from the bed, and was about to tell him he could open his eyes, but the words died on her lips.
Her heart pounded wildly as her gaze traveled along the powerful length of his body, from the broad span of his shoulders, the muscles firm and knotted, his black hair falling to just below his nape, to the sculpted definition of his back, tapering to a slim waist, banded with muscle. His breeches, wet and molded to his lower body like a second skin, did little to hide the taut outline of his buttocks and the strength of his thighs . . .
Kassandra shivered, a rush of liquid desire tingling from her scalp to her toes. These were the thoughts of a woman, and here she was acting like a frightened child. This was not a dream. Stefan was real, of flesh and blood . . . He was her love, the air she breathed. She didn't need more time to tell her that. She needed his arms about her, the warm pressure of his lips upon her own, his touch . . .
"Stefan?" she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. She tensed as he turned, her breathing shallow, her lips parted. His bronzed body was outlined in an aura of flame, magnificent, virile, and she could not tear her eyes away. Her hands loosened their hold on the fur and it drifted along her skin to the floor, the whisper-soft sensation exciting her beyond measure. She moaned faintly, crying out in yearning for this one man. She stretched out her arms, wanting him, wanting him . . .
For a moment Stefan could only gaze at her, mesmerized by the startling vision she made. Her porcelain beauty was awash in gold from the warm sunlight streaming through the windows, her damp hair clinging to the lithe curves of her body and down her back, streaking across her high, pouting breasts. She swayed slightly, and something winked and sparkled between the tempting hollow, the jeweled locket he had given her.
Diamonds, rubies—they paled beside her loveliness, he thought fleetingly. She was the rarest jewel, with facets of fire-gold and cream, brilliant amethyst and palest rose, goddess, woman . . . perfection. And she was his.
He walked slowly toward her, his eyes capturing her own, holding them in thrall. He reached out for her, their hands entwining, and drew her against him, his breath catching in his throat as her hardened nipples grazed his chest. But he held himself back, gazing down into her face, searching. Only a few moments ago she had shied away from him, confused, uncertain. He had to be sure she wanted him as much as he wanted her . . .
Sensing his inner turmoil, Kassandra lowered her head and trailed a line of kisses across his chest to just left of his breastbone, where she pressed her lips fervently to the beating of his heart. "Love me, Stefan," she murmured, her breath hot against his skin. "Love me . . ."
He groaned, her words unleashing within him an explosion of raging desire. In one fluid motion he lifted her in his arms and laid her upon the bed, the pale cream of her body in striking contrast to the glistening furs beneath her.
Kassandra rolled languidly onto her side, watching with intense fascination as Stefan stripped off his breeches. Emboldened by her love, she traced her finger along the dark swath of hair trailing down his taut belly, past sleek, narrow hips, to end in a mass of black curls between sinewed thighs. His erect manhood seemed to leap against her hand and she gasped in surprise, falling back onto the furs.
Stefan chuckled lustily, gathering her into his arms as he lay down beside her. "I warn you, my lady," he whispered in her ear. "To touch a man so can only bring about the most dire consequences." He gently bit her earlobe, as if to emphasize his words, then it was he who gasped when Kassandra's hand tentatively touched his pulsating hardness once again.
Her fingers wrapped around him, unsure at first, but growing more bold as she slowly caressed him, reveling in the silken feel of his skin, the satin smoothness, the crispness of the curls nestled there. He moaned against her ear, his breaths panting, ragged, and she marveled that she could pleasure him so. She began to stroke him faster, innately sensing that she could please him still further, only to start when he suddenly drew her hand away.
"Enough, my love," he whispered hoarsely, pushing her back down upon the furs. He knelt above her, his muscled thighs straddling her hips, his throbbing shaft pressed against the silken mound between her legs. His flint-gray eyes, inflamed with passion, seared into her own. "Now it is my turn."
He bent over her, supporting his powerful weight with his hands, and tenderly kissed her forehead, her eyelids, his lips brushing against her gold-tipped lashes. His kiss became possessive when he sought her lips, demanding, drawing the breath from her body as his tongue savored the recesses of her mouth, tasting its sweetness, lingering there. When Kassandra's arms instinctively wound about his neck, returning his impassioned kiss, he forced them down above her head, gripping her wrists gently with one hand while his other hand stroked her breast.
Kassandra sharply inhaled as his nails lightly raked across her hardened nipple, until she thought she might scream from the delicious sensations pouring through her body. Each time she arched her back, her hips moved beneath him, stoking a fire deep within her belly as the tip of his hardness pressed urgently against the aching bud of her desire.
Suddenly Stefan released her wrists and shifted his weight, pushing her long legs apart and kneeling between them. His hands were everywhere, caressing, teasing, his mouth, hot, insistent, capturing first one rose-tipped crest, then the other, while his fingers explored the silken cleft of her womanhood, entwining in russet curls. He knew she was ready, but he wanted to push her still further to the brink of ecstasy. He bent down and cupped her buttocks, his tongue delving into her where his fingers had been only a moment before.
There was a wildness to his movements, an urgent intensity, matched only by Kassandra's driving need. She writhed against him, trembling, calling his name, pleading for him to stop, pleading for him to linger, pleading for what she knew was to come.
Then Stefan was above her, knowing she could wait no longer, knowing he could wait no longer to possess her. As he plunged into her, she cried out her pleasure, tears of rapture stinging her eyes, her jagged breaths melding with his own. She felt storm-tossed, buffeted, adrift in a raging sea of delirious sensation, then she was hovering above it for a blinding instant, hovering . . . until she dove back down into the boiling sea, wave after wave of furious ecstasy crashing in upon her, crashing in upon Stefan, drowning them in all-encompassing delight.
Chapter 33
It was Stefan who first opened his eyes, blinking against the dappled sunlight playing across the wide bed. He rose up on his elbow and glanced out the window. The sun was settling into the trees, its bright rays winking through the leafy branches.
It must be three, or perhaps four o'clock, he thought, somewhat dazed. He was not used to sleeping in the middle of the afternoon. The flames had died in the fireplace; nothing was left of the logs but glowing embers that hissed faintly, the only other sound in
the lodge the steady rhythm of Kassandra's breathing.
Smiling, he gazed down at her, nestled against his chest. She was so touchingly beautiful . . . He wrapped his arm about her protectively, a sense of overwhelming fulfillment settling over him. He had never known such happiness, such peace. He could hardly wait to share his joy, their joy, with Isabel and Lord Harrington.
Stefan bent his head and touched his lips to her cheek, stroking the silken softness of her hair. "Kassandra, it's time to wake," he whispered.
She merely sighed, snuggling closer, lost to sleep. He suppressed a laugh and tried again, this time gently shaking her shoulder. "Awake, my love."
Kassandra's eyelids slowly flickered open, a contented smile lighting her features. "Hmmm . . ." she murmured, stretching languorously, the crisp curls on his chest tickling her nose. She inhaled, breathing in his warm, male scent.
Stefan groaned, the pressure of her lithe body against him rekindling his desire. He would never get enough of her! This afternoon was proof of that. They had loved until breathless exhaustion had overtaken them, and even now he could think of nothing better than spending another delightful hour in bed. But he forced his mind to the stir that was probably brewing at the mansion over their long absence. He didn't think Karl could stand the shock of finding them like this again. It was time they made their way back.
"Kassandra, the afternoon has fled," he began. "Your father is no doubt wondering—"
"Father!" Kassandra exclaimed, her eyes widening. She sat up beside him, oblivious of her nakedness. "Oh, Stefan, we should return at once. I hope they haven't sent anyone out looking for us."
"My thoughts exactly," he replied, tracing his finger down her arm, his eyes feasting upon the tempting silhouette of her breasts.
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