Kathleen E. Woodiwiss(71)
It was magic, a stunning, beautiful, expanding bloom of ravaging rapture that made her arch against him with a fierce ardor matching his. The wild, soaring ecstasy burst upon them, fusing them together in the all-consuming caldron of passion. Clasped tightly to him as if he would draw her into himself, Shanna felt the thunderous beating of his heart against her naked breasts and heard his hoarse, ragged breathing in her ear.
Time seemed to verge on eternity before Ruark raised his head. Shanna lay back upon the pillow, staring up at him with wide, searching eyes, amazement etched in the beauteous visage. The amber eyes held her softly as he whispered:
“Doth the dragon so comport, my love?”
His lips pressed upon hers gently, tenderly, and Shanna gave quick answer, returning warm, fleeting kisses as she breathed, “Aye, my dragon Ruark, my ferocious beastly man, you demanded the bargain met, but the payment was not all yours.”
Ruark smoothed her rumpled hair and traced his mouth along the slim column of her throat, tasting the exotic fragrance that seemed so much a part of her, that haunting scent which had plagued him in the gaol every wakeful hour, every moment of his dreams.
“Are you regretful, love?” he questioned huskily.
Shanna shook her head, and oddly it was no lie she gave him. All the qualms she had expected, and the quirks of gnawing guilt she imagined would torment her, were not there. More frightening to her was the strange sense of rightness she felt being in his arms, as if here was where she was meant to be, like the sea on the sand, a tree on the earth. Aye, that feeling of contentment disturbed her more than guilt ever could.
Willfully Shanna set her mind on a different path. It was the fulfilling of her word that satisfied her conscience, naught else. Her arms looped about his neck and were like silk sliding against him. She laughed softly, lightly nibbling at the lobe of his ear, touching it with her tongue.
“Has your sense of justice been appeased, milord?”
Ruark’s parted lips played upon hers as he gave reply. “Aye, wench. For the tortured nights I’ve lain awake thinking of you, for the days I could not rout you from my mind, for the torment I’ve suffered, knowing you were close and not being able to see you, touch you. Aye, I have tasted of the rose.” His brow furrowed. “But like the lotus, deep within this flower is a seed which entraps the mind.” His eyes searched her face. “The night is far from over, Shanna.”
Gently she rubbed her fingers across the harsh lines of his frown, smoothing it away.
“For this night,” she murmured, “I am your wife.”
Shanna drew his hand to her lips and slowly kissed the lean, brown knuckles while each gaze warmed and played within the depths of the other’s eyes. She showed small perfect teeth in an impish grin before sinking them teasingly into the back of his hand.
“For all the hours you’ve tormented me, my dragon Ruark, I’ll see some gallant knight to my rescue. You have abused this maiden sorely in her distress.”
Ruark cocked a dubious brow. “Do you think me, then, to be the terrible dragon of your dreams, madam? Am I to be put away by your silvered knight? And truly, madam, have I abused you so sorely? Or is it that I’ve dared to treat you as a woman and not some lofty wench on a pedestal, a virgin queen no mortal man can touch?”
Shanna’s eyes gleamed as she stared at him from beneath lowered lids. “Then you at last admit I am a woman, Mister Beauchamp?” she queried.
“Aye, you’re a woman, Shanna,” Ruark replied hoarsely. “A woman made for love and for a man, not made for dreams of knights and dragons and damsels in distress. If I be your dragon, Shanna, then let it be known your knight in shining armor will have no easy task subduing me.”
“Do you threaten me, monstrous dragon?” The sea-green eyes were wide and watched him almost fearfully.
“Nay, Shanna love,” he whispered softly. “But then, neither do I believe in fables.”
He moved against her, his body rousing, responding to the softness of hers. His open mouth sought her lips, parting them, twisting, burning, devouring, slanting across them as if he could not get enough of the dewy sweetness. Their breaths merged and became one. Shanna lost her last touch on reality. Her world careened crazily beneath the savage urgency of his demanding kisses, and she was swept along in the violent storm of his passion. His hand slipped downward, capturing the soft fullness of a breast before his mouth followed. Shanna caught her breath as the wild flooding pleasure shot through her again. His hot, greedy kisses covered her naked flesh, and in the flickering candlelight, his hair shone with a soft sheen of black satin against her pale skin. Her own hair spread out in shimmering waves across the pillows, and her eyes took on a strange, deep hue of smoky blue. She was his again, and she reveled in the sweetness of bliss.