Even when the horse thundered toward her, she knew no fear, and as Tade reined the beast to a halt scarcely three arm's lengths from where she stood, she felt her lips curve into a smile.
"Good morrow, Miss Wylder." A current of huskiness ran beneath the teasing in Tade's voice as he swept his scarlet-plumed hat from his head. “IT is little wonder the dawn has burst forth with such glory this day. No doubt the sun sprites rousted all their fellows from the star beds to view the loveliest sight in all Christendom." Green eyes roved in a lingering path from the top of Maryssa's silk hood to the toes of the soft kid slippers that peeked out from above their shielding clogs.
Maryssa felt his gaze burn her, firing a blush in her cheeks and on the skin veiled beneath the satin as well. She groped for something witty to say, but words eluded her, and she could only fix her gaze on one of Curran's oiled hooves as a quivering excitement stirred deep within her.
She saw a flash of tight leather breeches as Tade swung from the saddle, then heard the crunch of his boot soles as he came lightly down before her.
"Maura."
Rough and warm, his fingertips brushed her chin, raising her gaze to meet his, and it was as if the full force of what she—they—were about to do had stolen her tongue. But then her gaze caught the heat of his green eyes, saw within them not only desire but also a tenderness that made her knees tremble. She raised her fingers and laid them, feather-soft upon the moist warmth of his lips as she blinked away the droplets that clung to her lashes.
"Tade, the gown." She forced the words from between trembling lips. “It is the most beautiful thing anyone has ever given me."
"I'd give you heaven, Maura, if I could," Tade breathed against her fingertips, his own eyes glistening. "Let me try." He swallowed convulsively, his thumbs sliding up into the curls at her temples, his large palms cupping her cheeks. "There is a place high in the mountains, a place Devin and I built as lads. We vowed we would keep it secret until the day we died, but for you . . . for what this morning holds . . . I fear I'd break a vow to God himself if keeping it meant I could not . . . make you my own."
“It is all I've thought of and dreamed of since we parted." Maryssa's hushed admission seemed breathless even to her own ears. "But I—I'm afraid . . . afraid I'll not please you."
"Afraid you'll not please me?" Tade's lips parted into a smile of such sweetness it pierced Maryssa's heart. Gentle, so gentle, his laugh rippled across her skin. "Do you know, Maura mo chroi, how precious you are? Not one woman I've ever known has held more than a paltry concern that I feel pleasure in the loving. They cared only about taking pleasure, gaining whatever they could. But you . . . always, in all things, you seek to give." His head tipped down, his lips blending with hers in a kiss of infinite sweetness and bridled passion.
He released her slowly, reluctantly, molding his rein-hardened palms about her waist and swung her up onto the stallion's back. Maryssa knew she should be prey to the raw terror that had gripped her each time she had faced a horse since the night of the wild ride that had thrown her into Tade's arms. But the web of security and love his words and caresses had built about her shielded her from even that fear as he lifted her high and settled her on the horse's back.
In one lithe, graceful movement, Tade swung up behind her and cupped her hips between his hard leather-encased thighs. And as she leaned back against the muscled plane of his chest, Maryssa smiled, remembering that night not so long ago when a terrified, unloved girl had thought Tade Kilcannon was dragging her into hell.
"We'll ride through the wilds," Tade said in her ear. "You need not fear anyone will see us."
Maryssa didn't even answer, just laid her cheek against his smooth-shaven jaw in a gesture of complete trust, reveling in the scents that clung to him—wildwood, sea breeze, saddle leather.
The movement of Curran starting forward jarred her deeper into the curves of Tade's body, and as the stallion loped smoothly away from Marlow Hall, losing them in the untamed beauty of Tade's mountains, Maryssa cast the last vestiges of her doubt and unease into the sunrise.
The countryside seemed to open its arms to her, embracing her in bright splashes of wildflowers and stark juts of stone lovelier than any carved by a sculptor's hand. And the low rumblings of Tade's voice as he pointed out a roe drinking from a crystal stream or a soaring bird skimming the treetops only served to heighten the anticipation that tingled through Maryssa's veins.
When the narrow trail on which they had been riding disappeared into nothing but turf beneath Curran's hooves, Tade grew suddenly silent, the tension in his muscles building against her. Maryssa felt as if a fist were tightening inside her, every brush of Tade's body against hers so exquisitely pleasurable it was almost painful. At the rim of a tiny valley ringed with jagged stone, Tade reined Curran to a halt and dismounted.
Maryssa felt a shiver work unbidden across her skin, the absence of Tade against her making even the sweet, sun-warmed breeze seem chill as it played among the clouds. Then there was only the feel of his hands lifting her down, his strong arm curving beneath her knees, pulling her against his chest.
She started to move, intending to gain her feet, but his grip about her tightened. "Maura, let me hold you, carry you." His request set her pulses racing. "I want you in my arms when you see my secret place."
She wrapped her arms about his neck, and it touched her to see that instead of the usual leather thong, a black silk ribbon caught up the thick strands of his unruly hair. As he strode down into the valley, she buried her face in the ruffles at his throat, terrified that she would ruin the magic hours of their loving by sniffling and weeping in her joy.
But he had taken no more than a score of steps before Maryssa lifted her head, tempted away from her tears by a fragrance so tantalizingly delicate and lovely that it seemed to have been borne on angels' wings.
Her eyes swept the tiny valley, searching for the source of the wonderful scent, but the glen was spangled by only a few late-blooming flowers. Hardy grasses struggled to gain purchase on what little soil clung between the wealth of jagged rocks scattered across the east side of the valley, while a single gnarled oak tree, larger than any she'd ever seen in Donegal's wilds, thrust its mighty branches skyward from the center of the glen.
Maryssa hazarded a glance up at Tade's expectant face, confusion niggling at her as she tried to imagine them somewhere in this rocky hollow. But as they drew near the towering oak, confusion gave way to disbelief, then amazement, as her gaze followed the massive trunk up to the lacy foliage above. She gasped, dazed, as her eyes locked on what looked to be a fairy castle tangled so high amid the oak's lush leaves it seemed to touch the very sky.
The low walls of the wooden haven were draped with cascades of wild roses, their heavy blossoms festooned with ribbons of pale blue satin. And even from her low vantage point Maryssa could see the waxy whiteness of a dozen unlit tapers set among the blossoms.
She tried to speak but couldn't as she thought of the hours he must have spent gathering the roses, tying the ribbons so that they would hang so perfectly among the delicate flowers.
"Tade, it is so beautiful," she whispered, "how long did you work to do all this?"
“Do you think I could sleep, knowing that in the morning I would be bringing you here, touching you?" His soft words twisted in her heart. "Look, love. You'll not even have to climb the branches to reach it. I fashioned a carriage fit to bear my lady up into her kingdom." She turned to look in the direction he indicated, seeing, partially obscured by the tree trunk, what seemed to be a wooden swing, the ropes that anchored it to the tree castle twined with delicate green vines and sun-colored blossoms.
"That will carry me?" A tiny quaver of doubt edged her voice as her gaze traveled from the sturdy wooden seat up through the branches to the platform. “It is so high."
Tade's laughter rumbled deep in his chest. “It is the tallest tree in these mountains, I vow. When Dev and I were lads we used to love the tale that was spun ar
ound it." His mouth crooked in an amused grin.
“It was said to be Badb Catha's haven, the place of the druid goddess of war. She and her three sisters supposedly had aided in battle one Preanndaigh the Red, crushing his enemies, but one enemy warrior, Cian of the Sea, showed courage so great that Badb Catha could not bear to see him die. Disguised as crows, she and her sisters tore out Cian's heart and buried it here within the glen. And, legend claims, the oak born of his life's blood grows great with his courage."
Maryssa shuddered. "He must have had a great deal of courage for the tree to grow so—" She craned her neck back, peering up fearfully into the branches.
"Tall?" Tade's voice fell gentle. "Maura, I'd never let anything hurt you." He strode to the swing and eased her down onto the seat, the tenderness in his face spiced by an imp of mischief. "Of course, once I hold you captive in my castle, I may never let you come down." He dropped a kiss upon the tip of her nose. “It will take me but an instant to make ready once I reach the top. Then I will pull you up. Hold fast to the ropes."
Her fingers had scarce closed about the hempen cords before Tade's muscled arms and legs carried him up among the spreading branches of the oak. A moment passed, then two, but though she peered up into the tree, he remained hidden from sight. She was about to call out to him when she felt a strange sensation of weightlessness. The ropes tightened and she began to rise upward like a leaf drifting on a breeze, being carried higher, ever higher. She arched her head back, feeling the velvety caress of leaves against her skin, feeling the playful wind thread its fingers through her hair.
The glen spilled out beneath her, dappled gold, spangled with emerald grasses. Maryssa drank it in like honeyed wine, wanting desperately to hold the jeweled shades and sweet scents fresh in her memory for all the endless tomorrows that stretched before her. Moments later, the swing broke through the branches, and the wonder of the glen faded beneath the soul-wrenching beauty of Tade Kilcannon's face.
The smile that had shone upon his countenance as he scaled the tree was gone, his eyes now solemn, brimming with a vulnerability that touched her. She felt as though he had bared for her his heart, his dreams, and had tried to create here in this crudely built castle a tangible symbol of his love for her. Maryssa released her hold on the rope and placed her hand in his outstretched palm. His fingers closed over hers, steadying her as she stepped from the swing into the wood nymph's bower.
The foliage blocked out most of the sunlight, dimming it to the soft gray of twilight. The weathered wood that had been fashioned by a boy's hand long ago was iced now with velvety petals, the tapers set among them now glowing with soft orange light. In the corner of the surprisingly large floor nestled a basket, the aroma of spiced cake and wine emanating from beneath the cloth that covered it. And beside it were spread five thick down comforters, layered atop one another to form a soft bed amid pools of candlelight.
"You said once you wanted to give me heaven," Maryssa whispered. "But heaven will seem a dismal place compared to what you have given me here."
The brush of his fingertips as they untied her hood made her knees feel like water. As he cast the bit of camlet aside and slipped free the pins that imprisoned her curls in a loose chignon, waves of desire crashed over her so sharp and deep that she had to grasp his hard-muscled arm to keep from sinking to the floor.
He ran his long fingers through the sable mass of her hair, smoothing it past her waist, stroking it as though it were the finest silk; then he bent down to retrieve from the coverlets a single perfect rose. "For milady." It was as if he had laid all that he was in her hand at that moment. And she wanted to offer him something beautiful in return.
She lifted her hand to trace the planes of his face with her fingertips, memorizing each arch of cheekbone and jaw, the tiny crinkled lines fanning out from the corners of his eyes the result of a lifetime of laughter. Then she rose up on tiptoe and touched her lips to his mouth in a kiss blushed with all the love that filled her bursting heart. Her fingers slid down to grasp the folds of his shirt; then she sank onto the coverlets, drawing Tade with her. He eased her back, his muscled forearm curving beneath her to pillow her head as his mouth moved over hers, and she could feel him shaking against her, could feel his need.
But he gently broke away from her, rising up on his elbows to peer into her face. "Maura, you don't have to . . . I mean, I didn't intend to carry you up here and—and bed you before you had time to catch your breath. There is cake here and chilled wine, and—"
His words died in his throat, drowned in a gasp of pleasure as her fingers slid beneath his neckcloth of lace, unfastening it to bare a triangle of hair-roughened bronze flesh. "Tade, I'm not hungry for anything but . . ." Assailed by a sudden wave of shyness, she let her words trail off, but she moistened her lips, tipping them up to touch the corded muscles of Tade's throat. A groan rumbled deep within him, and he caught her face in his hands, burying his lips in hers with a hunger that sent jolts of raw desire searing, jagged edged, through every inch of her body.
Maryssa parted her lips to the hot sweep of his tongue, and he plunged inside, his mouth possessing her in a wildly primal dance that presaged the mating of their bodies. She felt his fingers fumbling with the fastenings of the blue satin gown and the laces of the stiff corset beneath. Maryssa whimpered in exquisite torment as he removed both garments and let her breasts spill into his hands.
“So lovely," Tade breathed against one hardened coral crest. His moist lips skimmed once, twice, over her straining nipple, worshiping, caressing until Maryssa could bear it no longer. Her trembling fingers knotted in the thick waves of his hair, drawing him fiercely down to her heated flesh, and he took the delicate bud into his mouth, his rough, wet tongue tracing hot patterns on her skin.
Maryssa's hands skimmed at the hard muscles of his chest, then opened the loose cloth of his shirt and pulled it down over his shoulders to glory in the rough bronze satin of his bared skin. Tade winced, and she heard air hiss between his teeth as she yanked his left sleeve from his arm. But the momentary flash of pain that crossed his features did not halt for even an instant his deft fingers from their hurried task. Tade's hands skimmed her body, ridding her of her petticoats and undergarments, his fingers slipping the bows of her ribbon garters and easing down the silk stockings that clung to her thighs. His knuckles brushed the downy swell at their apex, and a shattering need filled Maryssa.
She tore at his breeches as she kicked free of the rest of her clothes, her careless haste sounding in popped seams and torn lacings. Breath catching in ragged gasps, she fumbled with the stiff fastenings that clasped the soft leather about his hips. Her fingers dug into the hard bulge of his sex pulsing beneath the breeches, a sudden hissed curse stunning her as her nails bit over-deep.
A sick silence gripped Maryssa as she mentally cursed her clumsiness, embarrassment joining with the fear that her wantonness had somehow dulled the edge of Tade's desire. Most likely he thought her little better than an awkward child or a faded, plain spinster desperate for a man's touch.
But she was desperate, more desperate than she had ever been in her life. Desperate to hold on to this brief moment of being loved, knowing that with the turning of the seasons she would have to release Tade again to his mountains while she lay caged in English society as Ascot Dallywoulde's bride. As abruptly as the surge of impassioned freedom had gripped her, it vanished, leaving her shaking and uncertain.
"Go on, sweeting." Tade's voice brushed over her, his eyes sparking with an imp of mischief. "Don't stop now. My breeches but pinched what strains beneath them to reach you."
But the soothing words could not brace her flagging confidence. Unable to meet his gaze, she fastened her eyes on the snowy band of cloth tied about Tade's left arm, a whisper of dread, a sense of danger, flowing through her at the evidence of the dark secret that might well lurk beneath the face of her lover. She clutched the coverlet to breasts still tingling from his kisses, but he would allow her not even that sh
ield. His gentle hands drew the downy folds from her grasp, slowly, so slowly.
"Maura." His voice was harsh with leashed desire. "I want nothing between us this morning. Not the coverlet. Not fear."
Her gaze flitted up to his. “It is just that I don't know what to do. I've touched you before, on the lakeshore and in the garden, but you've loved so many others who were far more beautiful than I and skilled in the ways to pleasure a man.”
"Nay, Maura. I've loved only you." He took her hand in his, then flattened her palm against his naked chest. "Feel," he said, low in his throat. "I'm trembling like a raw lad. Shaking with want of you. Let me lose myself inside you, Maura. Let me . . ."
She opened her arms to him, tumbling them both back down onto the soft coverlets. She never knew how he shed the rest of his clothing, only felt his lean body flame against hers, its hard sinews trembling as they molded themselves against her answering softness. He kissed her everywhere, his mouth sipping her throat, her breasts, the soft swell of her stomach. She whimpered and writhed as his lean bronzed fingers traced a sensual path up the fragile skin of her inner thigh to part her gently, so gently. The green of his eyes glowed like shattered emeralds, hard and bright with passion, and his breath touched her there, moist, sweet.
"Maura . . . so delicate, so sweet. I need to taste you." A current of disbelief washed through her as he lowered his mouth to press his lips against the velvety folds. She started to protest, her cheeks blazing, but then his lips parted and the rough wetness of his tongue against the center of her desire drove all doubt from her mind, leaving her drowning in a sea of fire.
She cried out, clutching at his muscled shoulders and dark hair as his mouth worked its magic. She was swirling, soaring, into a million tiny sun drops of gold. She tried desperately to reach out, catch something she did not understand. But suddenly Tade's mouth left her, his lean hips crushing her down into the coverlets, his sex iron-hard against her stomach.
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