He tasted there, at her inner thigh, the soft place high up, and she grew still. He must smell her, the rosewater she had bathed in this morning, a thousand years ago, when she had not dreamed of this, could not have imagined that she would feel this fire consuming and feeding her at the same time. His hands came there, to that place he had touched before, opening her and tasting her, his tongue claiming the hidden soft core of her with a bold stroke that made her gasp for air. She was desperate for more. But he moved, fast and lithe, his body skimming hers.

When his mouth came to hers she swallowed the fierce sound he made, like a starved animal feeding at last, and heard her own unfamiliar high-pitched whimper. She was begging, begging for more, spreading wild beneath him. Her leg wrapped around his, her hand moving down, down, to curve around the hard length of him. It pleased him and pained him, she knew from his harsh breath against her lips. Something like triumph leapt up in her, to know her touch could do this to him. She exulted in it, in the way he dropped his head to her shoulder and groaned, exerting control on himself. His hand covered hers, pulling it away.

She felt a new intent in him, the way he shifted his weight and positioned himself, and then he pushed inside her.

This she knew, from seeing animals in the fields and hearing the talk among men, and she stilled as he held himself inside of her. An aching, burning stretch that felt unfamiliar and uncomfortable until suddenly, all at once, it felt like nothing had ever felt. She panted, her hands urging him, more more more, until he moved again, setting a rhythm that she knew was restrained. His mouth captured hers again, their breaths and voices mingling as he moved faster and faster, taking her higher and higher until he cried out with pleasure and collapsed.

Even then his hands moved over her breasts and her tongue found the salty sweet skin at the curve of his throat. Even then she wanted more of him.

CHAPTER 12

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“Davydd rides beside me and you at the rear.” Of long habit, she spoke in Welsh. She slipped the throwing knife that Madog had given her into her boot. The long dagger was secured on her saddle, hidden from sight. “The party is large enough to keep evil from us, but I would have us alert. Hail Davydd if you see aught I should know of.”