"Did you like that, then?"
She looked up to see Grey looking back with that cheeky, wicked grin of his that always seemed to promise-
He slid his finger across that spot again, a stronger, more certain stroke, and her hips came up off the bed with the wanting. He gave it, fulfilled the promise of that wicked glint, as if he knew what she wanted before she did. She clutched at him, raking her nails across his back.
The pleasure sizzled through every part of her, yet it focused on the place where he touched her. She cried out, made helpless by the needs of her body, needs he filled even as she became aware of them. He drove her before him, dragged her with him into the sweet madness of passion, and she plunged in willingly. Whatever he wanted, she would give. What he gave, she would take, even if it seemed so much, too much, impossible.
She still wanted more. Didn't know what it was, but screamed to have it, even though this pleasure was too much to bear, too-
Time stopped. For just an instant, it stopped, until the pleasure exploding through her started it again.
She blew apart into as many sparkling bits as there were stars. She shuddered, delight pulsing deep inside her, radiating through her to pour out into-magic? Of course. Magic.
Grey was over her, kissing her, pressing urgently against her, into her, and her body throbbed yet again with yes and I want that and more. She opened herself to him, whispered that "yes" into his ear.
The pain when he plunged home made her gasp with its unexpected sharpness. She'd known it would hurt, but hadn't expected to hurt in precisely that manner, with the sharp, stretching feel. The pleasure that came with it, behind it, made the pain go away.
Grey paused. She didn't want him to. She needed more. Still. She arched her hips, thrusting them at him, reminding him what they were about, where in the process they were. He couldn't stop now. With a groan, he began to move, slowly at first, then faster and deeper, touching something inside her that made her cry out. Perhaps that time-stopping magic. Whatever it was, she wanted it again, and more, and now.
And it happened again. Time stopped. Pearl blew apart into a million shiny bits, and this time Grey blew apart with her.
He was quiet against her shout. A gasp, a sigh-as if he couldn't spare any of himself for making noise, had to concentrate everything on the pleasure she gave him.
She gave. He took nothing from her. And as he collapsed in a warm, delicious weight over her, Pearl gathered up all those shiny bits and shared them out between them.
She thought about separating them into Grey bits and Pearl bits, but they had gotten all mixed up in the blast, and she wasn't sure where exactly the bits had come from. There didn't seem to be any gaping holes inside either of them, so she wondered if the bits had been made new from the-the passion Grey had shared with her. Though passion seemed a mild word for what Pearl had experienced. Even ecstasy seemed understated.
All the magic floating loose in the room followed the bits as Pearl tucked them where they belonged. The magic slid into place as if that was what the bits were for. And maybe it was.
Grey was beginning to get heavy, lying atop her. He murmured something about taking his leave, but he didn't move. Pearl didn't blame him, except for squashing her. She had no bones left at all. Maybe that's where the bits had come from-her dissolved bones. But no, the bones were still there. They just felt dissolved.
She found energy to begin a roll to her side. Grey assisted, moving off her, then drawing her close to cuddle. It was nice. She would remind him about taking leave in a few more minutes. After she thought more about the magic and the . . .
19
CONSCIOUSNESS OOZED ITS way into Grey's brain one slow seep at a time. Sensations impinged themselves on his mind. Warmth. Ease. Silken, female flesh pressed against his. His hand, stroking idly over said silky and feminine flesh.
Good God, he was in bed with Pearl.
Memory slammed into him. First, of her terrifying weeping fit. She'd cried so long and so hard it nearly pushed him over the edge into panic, not knowing what to do for her. He knew that sometimes women simply needed to cry, but for that long? And then, when she'd finally shown signs of stopping, he'd carried her into her room to tuck her in to sleep . . .
The Pearl of this moment murmured in that sleep and snuggled her sweet, round bottom closer into the curve of his body. Whereupon his body reacted as expected. Grey groaned.
It had done so last night. Reacted. It had damn near taken over and acted on its own. But that was no more than an excuse, and a paltry one. He was no slave to his impulses. Or his senses or his appetites. And if he didn't want to be enslaved again, he had better get out of this bed.
He didn't regret bedding Pearl, exactly. Grey eased carefully away from her, toward the edge of the bowl their bodies had made in the mattress. It was more that he felt as if he'd taken advantage. Of her tears. Of her status as his apprentice. Even of her lack of family. It was his responsibility as her magic-master to protect her from this sort of thing, not subject her to it.
Grey reached the side of the bed and rolled over to slip first one leg, then the other from beneath the coverlet, biting back a hiss as his warm toes connected with chilly floor. He had at least managed to stop and ask if she truly wanted to lie with him, but that wasn't much of a sop to his conscience. Even if she had seemed to think carefully on the matter, she could not possibly have been in a state for clearheaded thinking. Not after that hurricane of tears.
He tucked the blankets close around her so she might not miss his warmth too much, and slid the rest of the way out of the bed. He lit a fresh candle from the fire and shoved it into the cold drippings of last night's candle. He scooped his drawers from the floor as he padded naked to the basin, shivering in anticipation of the cold water.
Please, God, Elinor did not come home last night to see this. Grey splashed water on his face and held back his roar at the cold. Mustn't wake Pearl.
Elinor had been scary mad over Pearl falling asleep in his workroom, even though nothing happened. Now that something had-
Grey shuddered. He wet a cloth, washed beneath his arms, and glanced down before washing his privates and froze. Was that-blood?
He staggered, actually lurched with knee-buckling shock. There had been a moment last night, when he had wondered. When he had entered her sweet, tight little passage and she had gasped. But the demands of his body had been too clamorous and the thought too impossible. Now . . . the thought was still impossible, but the evidence was there.
Grey used his drawers to clean himself and collect the evidence. Innocent blood cries out for justice. The thought made his stomach churn. He dressed quickly, needing the armor of clothing, though he left off his undergarment. It was far less chilly than the time he'd been talked into a kilt while visiting in Argyll.
He checked his watch, but he'd forgotten to wind it in all of yesterday's uproar, so he had no idea of the time, whether the wee hours of the morning or nearing dawn. Either way, he also had no way of knowing when Elinor might return. He took the candle and slipped out of the bedroom to bolt the door. Elinor would have to knock to get in.
Feeling fierce, Grey walked into the bedroom. The candlelight slid up over Pearl, revealing her sleeping form in its warm glow. Dark hair spread across the pillow in contrast to her pale skin, her forehead creased with a tiny frown even in sleep. Something softened inside him. She was beautiful, but more than that, he couldn't help but like her. Perhaps duty wouldn't be so bad.
He perched on the edge of the high bed and brushed that dark brown silk from her face. "Pearl? You must wake up, my dear."
My dear? Well, yes. She was dear to him. Gently he shook her shoulder, naked, he knew, beneath the cover. His body reacted to that knowledge, but he quashed the impulse to act on it. He was better than that. Usually.
"Pearl, wake up."
She yawned, rubbed her eyes, yawned again, and blinked up at him. Then she smiled and all the dark, cold places inside him warmed. He warned himself not to get used to it, but he couldn't help hoping the smile would not fade when he said what he must.
"Good morning," she murmured, stretching discreetly beneath the bedclothes.
"Good morning." Grey tried to put all his hopes and none of his worries into his own smile. "How do you feel?"
That sent her away inside herself for just a moment as she investigated. Her smile came beaming forth sunnier than before. "Absolutely grand." She sounded utterly pleased with herself. "No aches, pains, or even weariness. How are you feeling?"
"I-hadn't thought of it." Physically he felt wonderful, but he always did after sex. Perhaps not as wonderful as this, however. "Yes, I am quite grand as well. Pearl-"
She sat up, holding the blankets to cover her breasts, but her bare shoulders were just as enticing, since they were bare, and visible, and they reminded him-
"Could you hand me my wrapper?" She pointed at a pink-and-white flannel thing hanging from a hook on the wall.
Grey fetched it for her with alacrity. He had to maintain his control. They had matters to discuss.
"Is it morning?" Pearl slipped into the wrapper as she slipped from the high bed, hitting the floor with a thump, and peered at the window. "It's dreadfully dark for so long this time of year. Is it morning?"