This time it was past the silent church, toward the sea. A squat shape loomed through the trees and she remembered it. The old sexton’s shed, abandoned for years. He opened the door and it swung outward with a protesting keen of rusted hinges.

A scrape and a flare. A wavering light played about the tiny room. The floor was bare but recently swept, and there was a pile of soft new blankets and a shaded lamp which he knelt to light. The soft glow sprang forth, revealing the sheen of moisture on his dark hair, hollows under his high cheekbones, and the slow sensual curve of his mouth. He stood in a smooth, fluid movement, with that controlled grace that was so much a part of him—part skilled swordsman, part dancer, part muscular animal.

“What do you think, lady mine?” His sweeping hand indicated the interior of sagging roof and rough walls. Reaching to his throat, he unfastened his cape and tossed it aside.

“Elegant, sir. With every luxury at the ready. You spoil me.” She arched a brow and let her own cape slide free, shaking out the dampness from her skirts.

She was instantly sorry for the jest. His long fingers stopped in the act of removing his neck cloth, his dark brows snapping together. He said tersely, “Would that I could spoil you, madame, and be rid of this accursed secrecy.”

In remorse, she moved forward and touched his arm, looking into his sapphire eyes. “Floor or bed, with you it matters not.”

His hand came upward, cupping her cheek and he said huskily, “I want you.”

“And I you.”

“Loosen your hair.” It was a command.

Obediently, she lifted trembling hands to pluck the pins from her long hair and let the golden strands tumble down her shoulders and back.

“Perfect,” he muttered in approval, tangling his fingers in her loose tresses and tugging her head backwards.

His mouth came down, hot and hungry, to cover hers. She kissed him back fiercely, possessively, and offered no protest when he unfastened her dress and pushed it from her shoulders, letting it pool at her feet in a heap of lace and satin. He lifted his head and his breath went outward in an audible hiss.

She wore absolutely nothing underneath. Blushing slightly under his heated gaze, she said shakily, “We have so little time. I hate to waste any fumbling with corsets and my chemise and…”

“I’ve never agreed with you more.” A low laugh escaped him. Then he scooped her up in his arms, moving a few feet to lower her to the makeshift bed. His gaze locked with hers as he removed his clothing and boots.

It always shook her. The depth of his desire to have her. His cock stood erect already against the taut plane of his stomach, the tip beaded with semen, the prominent veins pulsing slightly with the beat of his heart.

Then, naked and aroused, he lowered himself over her. His hands roamed freely over her skin and he sought her right breast, taking the nipple deeply into his mouth. Desire shot through her whole body and she moaned, threading her fingers through his hair, feeling the faint abrasion of his beard on her tender flesh. He suckled, swirling his tongue, his hand sliding at the same time between her legs. She parted for him, eager for the pleasure he gave her so generously, for the slick penetration of his skillful fingers. His thumb brushed her clitoris in a persuasive motion and she arched into the caress, a bolt of rapturous sensation making her quiver.

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