She did not put it on the table with the rest. She kept her fingers curled around it as she pulled the cord from which it hung over her head. When she came close to him, the scent of her surrounded him, intoxicating.

“It may seem a strange defense, Welshman. But their tender care has protected me as well as any blade. Did I not know them, there would be naught left of my heart to give to you.”

Her heart. His hands found the dip of her waist beneath the linen. He forgot, every time, how slight she was until he touched her. Solid, practical Nan, who was only a wisp of smoke, a sliver of flame against him. Her lips came to his, tentative and sweet until his arms went around her and she opened her mouth over his, bold in her hunger.

It made him weak with relief, to know her excitement. He had missed her so much that it was the sweetest pain to feel her again, the sensation of her body and breath flooding him like rain on parched earth. He had thought he wanted her before, but it was as nothing to the keen and ravenous hunger in him now that he knew she offered her heart to his true self, nothing hidden between them. He did as he had not done before this, and took control of their embrace. He pulled her down to him, hands gripping her tightly, urging her on to the bed beneath him. When his palm smoothed over her thigh, she stretched and pressed herself up against him, demanding more. In the dim light, she seemed like a manifestation of his dreams, warm and welcoming, no part of her closed to him.

Beneath the linen shift her scars were a ghostly white, her skin glowing. He took down her hair and spread it over her, ripples of gold silk over the slight curves, the tips of her small breasts barely peeking through. His mouth went to them, his tongue caressing until she gasped, but he did not relent. He wanted the sounds that came from her because each of them, everything that came from her lips, he cherished. They were his riches, his treasure, as precious as jewels.

The sheathed dagger was still in her hand, and he could not resent it. Not when he knew what it meant that she had stripped herself of all other defense, and called him Welshman, and spoke of giving her heart to him. He pushed her arms above her head and sat back to look at her, all golden desire beneath his teasing hands, finding every place that made her gasp more.

“Welshman,” she breathed, a command that set him afire. He kissed her, ravaging her eager mouth while his hands fumbled with his braies, and suddenly remembered the danger.