His eyes were tawny, like a cat’s before it springs. She remembered how he’d looked on the stallion, daring, dangerous. She shuddered once, then surrendered. With her eyes open and her heart willing, she gathered him close.

She opened. He filled.

The ride was fast and rough. Locked together, they raced. Without slackening pace, they plunged headlong over the cliff.

*   *   *

Silence seemed to last forever. Hannah curled herself into it and waited for him to leave her. Though her mind wasn’t cool, some sanity had returned. Covered by the dark, she could admit to herself that she would never be the same. He’d broken through that carefully polished veneer and had conquered the inner woman, the woman he hated. She couldn’t tell him that she loved, that she already mourned the loss of what she never really had and would spend the rest of her life wishing for it.

He wanted to reach out to her, to gather her close and stroke her hair in the moonlight. It wouldn’t be possible to touch her again. He’d taken in anger what he’d once dreamed of taking in tenderness. The guilt was there, real and ripe even as the sense of betrayal crept back.

The woman he’d fallen in love with didn’t exist. She’d been a lie even more than an illusion. Now he’d done what even in his wildest moments he’d avoided. He’d made love with a stranger. And God help him, he’d fallen just as deeply in love with her.

Had he hurt her? He wanted to ask, but held himself back. He couldn’t afford to feel remorse or he would end up making a fool of himself over this new Hannah as well. Pride followed honor. Since he’d sacrificed one to temper and pain, he would hold firm to the other.

As he rose, he dragged a hand through his hair. How could he love her when he didn’t even know her? How could he still love the woman he knew had never existed?

He dressed in silence while Hannah lay still as a stone on the bed.

“Now it seems we’ve used each other,” he murmured.

She opened her eyes then. There were no tears in them. Thank God she still had the strength for that much. He was standing by the bed, naked from the waist up with the ruined shirt balled in his hand. “We can consider ourselves even.”

“Can we?” His fingers went white on his shirt. He’d nearly taken a step toward her before he made himself turn and leave her alone.

Hannah lay and listened to the silence until dawn.

*   *   *