Annys got a brief glimpse of flowers set in pots all around her room before Harcourt kicked the door shut behind them. He set her on her feet and kissed her. Her passion roared to life, the sudden ferocity of it fed by the fact that the battle with Adam had interrupted their time together and the knowledge that this man was now all hers.
Harcourt skillfully removed her gown as he kept her drugged with kisses. When she wore only her shift, he carried her to the bed, smiling faintly at the rose petals sprinkled over the clean linen. The way she watched him as he shed his clothes fired his blood until he feared he would begin panting like a dog on a hot summer day. There was a glint of possessiveness in that look and he welcomed it. For the first time in his life he liked the fact that a woman saw him as hers.
Joining her in bed, he kissed her again as he tugged off her shift. When they were finally skin to skin, he groaned with pleasure. The way she trembled faintly at the same time delighted him. The passion they shared was fierce and he wanted that to lead to a love that was just as fierce.
Annys stroked the smooth, warm skin on his broad back. As he kissed his way to her breasts, she noticed that something was different. The desire she felt for him had always been hot but now she realized that there were no tethers on it. Deep inside, where she had been able to ignore it, had lingered a shame over how much she had craved and enjoyed lovemaking with a man who had not been her husband. She had obviously not been disregarding the rules as completely as she had believed.
Desire stole her ability to think as he made love to her. He left no part of her untouched or untasted. Annys was trembling with the need to feel him inside her. She clutched at his broad shoulders and tugged, urging him back into her arms. The way he made love to her with his mouth, his intimate kisses, made her ache, but she wanted them to find their releases as one, joined in body as they were now joined by vows.
“Harcourt,” she cried, barely recognizing her own voice, which was thick and husky with desire, “I want ye with me.”
He stroked her one last time with his tongue, intoxicated by the taste of her, before slowly kissing his way back up her body. The way her eyes were darkened by passion’s heat only added to his need for her. He, too, wanted them to find their joy as one. It would be the perfect seal to their wedding night, to the vows they had just exchanged.
Annys cried out with pleasure as he thrust himself inside her. She slid her hands down his sides until she could clutch his taut backside as he moved. When her release came it shook her to her core. The way Harcourt’s thrusts grew fierce told her he was close and then she felt the warmth of his seed spill inside her, telling her he was with her as she fell. That knowledge sent yet another wave of intense pleasure through her. A small, sane fragment of her desire-fogged mind heard him say something and clung to the words.
Harcourt had already cleaned them both off, settled at her side in bed, and pulled her close to his side before that desperately grasped memory spread through her mind. At first Annys doubted what her mind was telling her. She had not been clearheaded and her need to hear those words was so fierce she could easily have imagined it. She sighed. It was time to grow a backbone.
“Did ye say ye love me?” she asked, her heart beating so fast she was surprised he did not feel it.
“Aye. Wondered if ye had heard me.” He kissed the top of her head and lightly stroked her back. “I can wait until ye feel the same. I think ’tis near. Ye just need a wee bit more time. I understand that. Matters have moved fast and there was a lot that needed doing.”
Annys propped herself up on one elbow and stared at him. “I think Joan is right. Men can be idiots.” She bit back a smile when he looked both confused and a little insulted. “Do ye truly believe I would yet again marry a mon I didnae love?” The glint of hope in his eyes made her brave. “I think I loved ye five years ago. ’Tis why it hurt so badly when ye rode away without a word, without a backward glance.”
He pulled her into his arms. “That was the hardest thing I have e’er done but ye were married.”
“I ken it and I finally let that heal the wound. Ye had no choice. I had no choice.”
“So, ye love me.”
“Aye, fool.”
He laughed. “Aye, I think I might be. Then again, men dinnae often think marriage or passion need love.”
“I ken it. ’Tis why I didnae dare hope that it was what inspired you.”
“I think there is a lesson here.”
“Aye? What would that be?” She began to stroke his belly, smiling to herself when she felt him harden against her leg.
“The lesson here is that we must nay just think we ken what the other feels or thinks. We must say it. Just say it.”
“A verra good plan, Sir Harcourt.” She lifted her head from his chest and kissed him. “I love you.”
“And I love you, m’lady.”
“I am actually thinking something now if ye care to hear it.”
“What would that be?”