“Aye, it does. But, Annys, greed and envy kill many a good mon. Always has. Always will.”
Annys leaned against him and wrapped her arms around his waist. The steady beat of his heart, the warm strength of his body, soothed her even as it stirred her body’s interest. David was gone. There was no bringing him back or changing the sickening reasons he was murdered for. All she could do was hold fast to the land he loved, keeping it out of the hands of ones who would destroy it in their greed, and make his murderers pay for all their crimes.
She hummed her pleasure as he stroked her hair. Annys decided she was weary of her own lingering indecision. The man could still stir her blood like no one else ever had. She was no virgin lass, no innocent maid. Their trysts by the burn years ago had taught her a great deal. Sadly he had also shown her what she was missing in her marriage to David. There was something missing in her life now as well. It was past time she reached out and took what she wanted even though she knew it could never last.
“This is dangerous, lass,” Harcourt murmured, his whole body tightening with want as she pressed her body against his and idly caressed his back and arms.
“Mmmmm. So is life, I have discovered.” She lifted her head from his chest and smiled at him. “Mayhap I have just decided that I like poking at the fire.”
“Ye dinnae have to poke too hard, loving. ’Tis burning hot already. It has been for five verra long years. I could find naught to fully douse it.”
He saw the brief flare of hurt in her eyes but refused to lie to her. She had been married and out of his reach. He had had every right to seek comfort, maybe even more. He knew she was not so na?ve, or even witless, that she would believe he had spent the years since they had parted celibate and pining for her. The urge to soothe pain, no matter how brief and prompted partly by the knowledge that she had been alone, could not be completely smothered, however.
“Of course, I havenae e’en bothered to try for a verra long time so ’tis somewhat quick to flare up now.”
“Is it now.” She kissed the hollow at the base of his throat and heard him inhale sharply. “I ne’er even tried.”
“Weel, ye were married.”
“More or less.”
Harcourt could not wait any longer. He slid his hand under her chin, tilted her face up to his, and kissed her. She slid her arms around his neck and began to return his kiss with all the heat any man could ask for. Still uncertain if he was really seeing the willingness he thought he was, the willingness he ached to see, Harcourt struggled to keep his need for her from overwhelming him and making him push her too hard, too fast.
Annys could sense his caution but was not sure how to break the control he was exerting on his lust. She had done all she could to let him know she was willing to be his lover again. Even when they were lovers, Harcourt had always been the one to start the dance. Annys thought back to those days, fighting to recall something that she could do to end his caution with her.
Harcourt’s control was hanging by a thread, a very thin, frayed thread. He was considering just bluntly asking her if this time she wanted to go beyond kisses, when she slid her small hand over his thigh and lightly brushed her fingers against his groin, as if testing his interest. He groaned softly and began to undo her gown.
Ending the kiss, Harcourt said, “Annys, if ye are going to say nay, say it fast so that I may crawl out of here without having offended or frightened ye in some way.”
Annys just smiled and began to unlace his shirt. He decided to take that as an aye. It amazed him that he got her gown off without tearing it. One she wore nothing under but her shift. He decided she was being too slow in removing his shirt so he quickly finished the job himself. He pulled her back into his arms and felt a small tremor go through her. That sign that her need might match his own only increased his desperation to be skin to skin with her.
And in a bed, he thought, and suddenly grew still. Annys was a small woman and lifting her into his arms would be no trouble at all. But, walking her to the bed when he still limped might not be as easy. In fact, it could prove humiliating.
Beneath her hands Annys could feel the tension in Harcourt’s body. It was not due to passion, she was certain of that. She chanced a peek at his face, afraid she would see something there that would cause her pain. It puzzled her to see that he was staring at the bed with a look of consternation. That was not an expression one expected to see on the face of one’s lover.
A heartbeat later she understood. He still had a limp and an occasional weakness in his leg. They were going to have to either make love on the floor or get to that bed in the least awkward way possible. Annys smiled, stood up, and grasped him by the hand.
“Ye can be all romantic some other time,” she said as she tugged him to his feet and started to lead him to the bed.