Zia gasped with the realization and jumped out of the chair. “Then I surely must stay out of bishop’s way until…” She shook her head. “Eventually, the bishop will insist on speaking with me. What then?”
“You will know what to do,” Bethane assured her.
Zia collapsed back into the chair. “This news stuns me, but what could happen because of it startles me even more. The only thing I know for sure is that I will not see my husband—” She shook her head, correcting herself. “I will not see Artair suffer because of me.”
“To you, Artair is your husband. You need no document to prove that to yourself. Follow your heart,” Bethane advised. “You can’t go wrong when you follow your heart.”
Zia looked after Honora and the babes, and later that day realized she wasn’t needed. Both Honora and Addie had the situation well in hand, and Cavan too. He visited with his wife and sons as often as he could.
She wished she could leave the keep for at least a short while, just to breathe the cold autumn air, feel it fresh against her cheeks. She recalled her visit to the battlements, and grabbing a wool cloak from her room, hurried up the stairs, rushing to taste the joy of a moment’s freedom.
The cold air stung her cheeks and whipped through her hair and she stuck her chin up enjoying the invigorating assault. She hugged the cloak around her and couldn’t help but think of her father.
Was he still the man who once loved her mother, or had he become cynical and indifferent to others because of what had been done to him? And did she dare take a chance and find out?
It wouldn’t be only her life she placed in danger, and she couldn’t live with the possibility of being the cause of the Sinclares suffering because of her. What choice did she have then?
“You frightened the hell out of me!”
Startled, Zia swung around to see Artair descend on her. He looked in a rage, and grabbed hold of her and gave her a shake.
“Don’t ever frighten me like that again,” he ordered sharply.
“What have I done?” she asked, perplexed and concerned, for she had never seen him so upset. His dark eyes glared and he actually looked pale.
He shook his head and then rested his forehead to hers. “I couldn’t find you, and feared the bishop had sped off with you when I wasn’t watching.”
You mean my father. She almost said it aloud, but the words were so foreign to her that they never reached her lips.
“I would fight like a wild animal if anyone tried to take me from you,” she said with a soft kiss to his flushed cheek.
“I would kill anyone who tried.”
She thought she heard him snarl, and shivered at the thought of the animal inside him that could materialize when necessary.
“You’re cold,” he said, and scooped her up in his arms.
She wanted the crisp air to sting her cheeks and shiver her flesh, but she could get the same from her husband, and much preferred to do so.
“Make love to me,” she whispered in his ear.
He laughed. “You read my mind.”
“That is because we are one and will always be.”
He stopped abruptly before going through the arched doorway. “Promise me that. Promise me we will always be one no matter what.”
“I promise,” she murmured against his lips and then let him have his way with the kiss and he took it. Instead of quenching her lust it ignited it and shivered every inch of her flesh.
“You are cold,” he said, hurrying to take the stairs down to their bedchamber.
“I am hot,” she teased with a nip to his ear.
“I intend to make you hotter.”
“Then hurry, for I am already near boiling.”
He laughed. “This will be a night you long remember.”
How appropriate that the day remained consistent, for it surely was a day she would never forget.
Zia stretched her naked body along the bed, arching her back to welcome Artair deeper inside her. They had wasted no time in divesting themselves of their clothes and falling on the bed together. And she had wasted not a moment of getting him inside her.
She needed him and the satisfaction he would bring her, though he would take none himself, not yet. He would wait and bring her to pleasure over and over, making her body squirm with his intimate touches and breath-stealing kisses.
It was a dance of sorts, and one she never tired of. And how could she when he would sweep her off her feet with a new step or two and in no time have her groaning, whimpering, pleading, and crying out in pleasure?
“You are the witch,” she breathed heavily as his mouth tormented her nipples with the most delicious swirl of his tongue. “You bind me with a wicked—” She gasped as he plunged into her suddenly and steadily.