Page 70 of Warrior’s Lady

He gave her a cautious smile. "Will you let me find out all there is to know about you?"

Could she willingly make herself any more vulnerable to this man? She lowered her gaze to the candles burning brightly against the black of night. The price of such a deed would be her very soul. But her reward could also be lifelong happiness. Was it worth the risk?

She brought her gaze back to his. She held out her hands. "Skate with me."

He smiled as he grasped her fingers with his own. An odd air of protectiveness charged Camden's movements as he gently guided her into the center of the ice. He twirled her around, slowly, allowing them both to glide across the slippery surface.

The breeze caressed her suddenly heated cheeks. Warmth stirred within her as her gaze met his in the candlelight. He exuded confidence, intelligence, and sexuality. It was his sexuality that reached out to her now as she became acutely aware of the strength of his hands holding her own with such exquisite care, the way his thighs tensed then relaxed against the soft fabric of his tartan as he used his strength to keep them spinning in a breathless circle.

Then as if he, too, had suddenly become aware of her exploration, their movements ceased. The world slowed back into stillness. Desire flared in the depths of his eyes.

She couldn't look away. She couldn't breathe.

"Rhiannon." The word was a caress.

She trembled as an echo of his desire rippled through her.

"I want to touch you."

Her heart was pounding so hard, she was certain he could hear it.

He brushed her throat with the back of his fingers, and a primal shudder moved through her. Her nipples hardened, pushing against the sheer linen of her chemise.

He pulled her to him. "Tell me you want this." His voice was raw as he held his desire in check. She could see the effort his restraint was costing him in the pulse that thrummed in his jaw, the way the muscles of his chest bunched beneath the thin fabric of his shirt.

"I cannot resist you." She could smell him, that familiar scent of musk, of mint, of maleness. He slipped his hand beneath her cloak. He slid his hands up her arms, across her shoulders, then back down, taking the bodice of her gown and her chemise along with them. The dress fell to her waist, exposing her breasts.

His lips lowered to her breast and his mouth closed on her nipple. Heat flashed through her, and the muscles of her stomach clenched.

His hands grasped her breast, caressing her gently. He nipped at the tender peak, gently rolling her sensitive flesh between his teeth.

Her spine arched and she cried out. She was intensely conscious of him pulling her dress down to her ankles. He followed with his hands the path the fabric had taken down the length of her body, leaving her for a moment to toss his cloak over the ice. He fell to his knees atop the thick fur of his cloak, exploring her bare buttocks in his palms as he buried his face in the tight curls surrounding her womanhood. His tongue slipped inside.

Her fingers reached out, blindly digging into his hair as he continued his assault. She arched backwards, the sensations almost too intense to bear.

The air swirled around her, but she hardly noticed, so warmed was she by heat — the warmth of his hands caressing her as he stroked the molten heat inside her. She could hear the harsh sounds of her own breathing echo in the night air.

They were exposed — to the night, to the elements, to each other.

His teeth closed gently on the small nub of her, nibbled, then pulled, stroking her, teasing her, until she felt as though she would incinerate right there in his arms. She peaked, erupted, as sensation after sensation rode through her, carried her.

In the next moment, he pulled her down until she was nestled in the warmth of his fur cloak. He moved over her, parted her thighs, and plunged deep inside.

Again sensation after sensation rippled through her with an intensity that consumed. And she wanted nothing more than to merge into one with him.

He thrust shallowly, then deeply, not letting her get used to the rhythm.

She nestled against the furs, her breath coming in halting gasps.

"Do you feel me?" He drew out and plunged deep, thick, hot.

She felt every inch of him, but she wanted more. She lunged forward, trying to take more of him.

He withdrew until he was barely inside her. "Is it good?"

She strained to keep him with her, inside her. "I want all of you."

He plunged deep into her with a force as primal as the night that enveloped them. She arched up from the ground and gave a low cry of satisfaction. She met each thrust with her own.

He cupped her buttocks in his palms and lifted her deeper into each thrust. "Rhiannon ... give me—" He spoke through gritted teeth, his nostrils flaring with each harsh breath. "I want more." He moved desperately, his hips thrusting.

Her head thrashed back and forth at the erotic caress of his words, his texture inside her, his passion. Frantic cries filled the air as tension coiled tighter and tighter with each stroke of his body. Sensation streaked through her, building, spiraling. Her senses sharpened, sending shards of sensations: darkness, light, earth, snow, musk, Camden.

He thrust again, and she climaxed, the tension exploding with a force that sent a fiery release through her. An instant later she could feel him spasm again and again within her, spilling his seed into her body.

He collapsed on top of her, his breathing harsh and strained. They lay there in silence for several moments.

The stars seemed to twinkle with all the satisfaction that rode through her body. And even though Rhiannon had never felt happier, fear niggled at the edges of her awareness. No matter how much she had wanted to possess Camden tonight, she knew in her heart it was a mistake. She should never have let this happen. All her defenses were down, and she lay exposed and vulnerable before him. No matter how much he professed to wanting to know the real her, in the end he would hurt her. She expected it. He wouldn't mean to, but it would happen.

It always happened.

But for now, in the aftermath of their lovemaking and shielded by his arms, she would allow the fantasy to continue. Because for the first time in her life, instead of feeling lonely, confused, and downtrodden, she felt very much alive.