She looked back over her shoulder. "A run, my lord, please?" Her eager smile pierced his heart.

If she would only smile at him like that every day, he thought, and heeled the horse. Grayfalk bolted. They rode, the cool wind biting and pungent with newborn gra.s.s, her dark red hair spreading across his chest like a warrior's shield. To lengthen the ride, he made a wide berth, skirting the outer edge of the barracks under construction, the small camps of soldiers. Her laughter spilled like crystal water from a fall, showering him, and she glanced back, her bright smile carving a hole in his heart. Gaelan tightened his hold around her waist and let Grayfalk have his head. The black destrier plunged over the low hills, climbed the mounds of turf, and his master guided him around to the west slope where the creek ran clear, the rare sun glowing over a dale with trees and wild stubby bushes.

With the castle still in sight, he slowed the mount. Before he stopped completely, she slid from the horse's back and raced to the creek, dropping the basket under the trees and kicking off her slippers. Yanking off her hose and flinging them aside, she dipped her toes in the water, then lifted her skirts, gathering them in her girdle.

Gaelan dismounted, ground tethering his horse and walking toward her. She looked like the wild girl he'd met in the forest, bare-kneed, holding her hair back, searching the stream for fish. Once she shoved her hand into the water for one, then cursed. Gaelan leaned back against the tree, simply enjoying the sight of her.

"You do not have to forage, Siobhan; I have food here."

She looked up, holding her hair from the water. "Ahh, but 'tis the skill I must hone."

"I hunt for Donegal now."

She studied the fish moving under the water. "Want you a wife who cannot take care of herself? And you will not always be here, husband."

He pushed away from the tree and came to the water's edge. "I know you can take care of this fief, but can you not see that the burden is no longer yours alone to carry?"

"I know this, PenDragon."

"Nay, you do not." She met his gaze, straightening. "Not well enough to show your people. Think you I do not see that they obey me only at your discretion? Would you like to see them beaten for defiance?"

"Of course not!"

"Then you must cease airing your ... prejudice afore the folk."

"I want them treated fairly."

"Name me once when they were not."

She was stumped completely and her shoulders sagged. He was no longer the mercenary, his purpose so obvious in the construction he ordered on the castle, the coin she knew he would pay for the labor and supplies. She was suddenly terribly ashamed of keeping him at arm's length when he tried so hard to please her, bending to her, but...

"I do not trust you ... completely."

His heart grabbed onto her hesitation and longed for more. "I know," came sadly.

"I do not know when I will." She left the creek, stopping on the soft bank before him.

"'Twill come in time, Siobhan. And by then, mayhaps, I might trust your motives as not a part of our bargain," he said with obvious distaste. "We have come by this alliance through much hardship to you, but you must understand that unless I am called by the king, I will not leave." His voice lowered to a husky pitch. "Donegal is my home now too."

'Twas his tone that snagged her, lonely and rarely heard.

"My only home ever, Siobhan."

Her throat constricted. "Ha-have I not made you feel welcome?"

"You have made a place in your chamber, aye."

Her brow furrowed. "But not in my bed."

"Our bed."

It hit her then, the division she'd marked without realizing how it affected him. Hadn't she pitied his solitary existence before they'd wed? Yet she'd denied him the chance to alter his situation by keeping him from her bed, by battling with him, when he'd conceded all he could in his power.

"You cannot expect me to believe you have changed from war maker to settled lord in a sennight's time, husband."

"Nay, I am a warrior, Siobhan, yet-" He looked off to the side. "I am learning, this I swear to you. But..." He shifted from foot to foot, his voice barely audible, almost shy. "I need your ... help."

Something broke inside her then, slicing through the resistance. The moment offered a glimpse of his life, how difficult being inside the keep instead of burning it down must be for him. And she had done naught but keep him on the other side of the wall, sheltering her heart at his expense and denying the life he obviously craved, the life he'd earned for saving the king's.

"Oh, my lord husband," she whispered, fingering his hair off his brow, and his gaze snapped to hers. His features were brittle and carved with anxiety. "Forgive me."

"I could forgive you aught but your hatred of the man I am." His hands hovered over her shoulders, then settled there with a gentle weight and his tired sigh. "I cannot help my past, Siobhan. 'Twas all I had until now." He swallowed heavily, staring deep into her eyes. "That man is fading, yet if I anger you with orders, 'tis because I've known no other way. But now I have more than a b.a.s.t.a.r.d has a right to possess and I find I want more."

"What else is left that you do not have, my lord?"

"You."

Her brow furrowed. "But we are wed-"

He touched his fingertip to her lips, silencing her. "The other night in our chamber I felt truly wed to you, but the morn brings the terms of our bargain to light. I am weary of living on the outside of real lives-your life, Siobhan-when I belong on the inside." He neared, his body brushing hers, and Gaelan scented her like a stag scents its mate, hungering with a fierceness that robbed him of his will, his pride. "Donegal and her lands were the reason I wed you, Siobhan." The slight narrowing of her eyes made him want to shout. "But you alone are the reason I wanted Donegal."

You alone.

"For the sake of a pa.s.sion," she gasped, wetting her lips and searching his dark eyes. "You have relinquished your freedom?" She could hardly believe it.

"For my want of you, Siobhan. Of the woman who challenged me like a warrior even when her life was at risk. And for a place to belong as you belong here."

Over her head, he sketched the verdant land, and in that instant, Siobhan recognized how deep his longing ran, br.i.m.m.i.n.g with the fierce determination to be a part of Ireland, a part of something more than war. The unguarded moments of the past week filled her mind, the turbulence in his eyes when he asked for a marriage under Christian law, when he found his possessions in her chamber, the tub made for him; when he asked her to teach him to read and begged that none be aware of his shortcomings. He was a man struggling with a new life, a new people and a position he hadn't needed from the start, and that he wanted to be a real part of her life unfolded hope inside her, the hope she'd had but could not share.

How many times had she dreamed of having such a mate? How often had she wished that she and Tigheran could have made more of their marriage? She was a bride of peace with the chance for so much more, and aye, she admitted, she liked this man very much, ached for him in ways she never thought existed. He'd carved a spot in her heart for himself that day in the field, and he was pushing his bulk inside with his bold teasing and the incredible tenderness hidden beneath his grand power.

She was losing her heart to him, and it left her vulnerable, pitifully so when he looked at her as he was now, with expectation and want and hunger.

He lifted his hand from her shoulder, let it hover near her jaw, and she slid her hand over his, pressing it to her skin. His dark eyes softened, and he whispered her name, reverent on the breeze.

"I did not know."

"I did not want you to."

"Why?"

"I am weak for you, Siobhan. You did not need another wound to pluck open."

She need not ask if it was a weakness of the flesh, for she understood well there was more to this man than bedding, more she'd yet to discover.

"I can only promise to honor you well, PenDragon. And if I vent my feelings, 'tis because they have been smothered for so long." His features tightened a fraction. "I know not how to share them, for to show them was to appear feeble afore the people, and they needed my strength."

"You can yield them to me, wife, and I will not see you weak." He sighed and slid his fingers into the hair at her nape, tipping her head and brushing his mouth over hers. "I will keep them private, Siobhan, for I cherish the sharing."

His confession touched her heart, piercing it with the strength of an arrow. A whimper worked in her throat, tears burning behind her eyes as he took more of her lips with each pa.s.sing moment. He wet them, tasted and licked and kissed, and her heart escalated with the warmth of her body.

"Oh, husband," she gasped, her voice fracturing. "Hold me."

Gaelan slid his arms around her, a slow motion, as if afraid she would run from him and what he was experiencing was naught but a dream. He felt new ground beneath his feet, his walking into her arms a step into her mysterious soul. His guilt faded under the heat of their kiss, the pain that would come hovering beneath her spell, and with her mouth moving over his, she came into his arms, pressing her softness to his hard length and leaving him trembling. He'd tried to win her with gifts and deeds and it was the baring of his soul that brought her here. So simple. Yet there was naught simple about this woman.

He drew back, yet his mouth still whispered over hers, nipping and tasting.

"I need you, Siobhan, not just in our bed. I..." He swallowed. "I need you to keep my secrets too."

"I will," she promised and pulled him harder to her, hurting inside for him, to be the wife he needed, to have a mate who would listen to her private worries, to care when she was troubled, and give her tenderness and pa.s.sion without making her feel ashamed of her desires. Again, she marveled at the complicated man unfolding before her eyes. He was more than she expected and Siobhan craved him, his companionship, his touch. He made her feel feminine and beautiful and deliciously wicked with his daring words and seductive threats.

Lost in her kiss, Gaelan felt her fidget and looked down as she removed her girdle and tossed it on the gra.s.s.

"What are you doing?" His words came tightly laced with tension.

"Taking me a needed swim." She retreated enough to pull her gown up to her hips, her intention clear, yet Gaelan stopped her, glancing around at the terrain, at the fortress off in the distance.

"Are you mad, woman?" She smiled, her body tempting him more than her grin. "A swim you said, not to parade the countryside naked!" G.o.d above, he could not look at her like this and not want to have her.

"I'm not paradin', my lord. And did you think I would swim in me gown?" She jerked the garment off and flung it in his face. Spinning away, she dove, and Gaelan dragged the garment from his head and searched the water. Only the flow from the mountains rippled the current and his heart pounded. He stepped into the water and she burst through the surface like a fish, her shift clinging to her skin as if she was bare. Smoothing her hair back, Siobhan smiled at him, splashing him once, twice. His eyes warned her of more than a water fight coming.

And Siobhan wanted it, wanted him.

Like a water sprite, she walked from the water, each step revealing her splendor until she stopped before him. Gaelan's gaze searched her features, her smoldering eyes, and she took a step farther, bringing another fracture in his armor. He did not touch her, afraid he would hurt her, his need of her clenching his muscles, laboring his breathing. His hands folded into fists as he stared at her. Her pale skin was rosy, her b.r.e.a.s.t.s peaking hard against the wet shift. A feathery mist swirled over her skin and his gaze raked her over and over.

Gaelan felt himself come apart, the courage and restraint he'd learned in battle splintering. "I cannot look at you and not want you, Siobhan. Why do you torture me like this?"

"I do not seek to torture you, my lord." She moved past him, dragging her gown from where it hung on his shoulder and moving to the seclusion of the trees and shrubs.

He still stood on the banks, his back to her, his hands on his hips.

"Come to me, husband."

He whipped around, his stare scorching over her as she lowered to the ground, her figure hidden by the trees and bushes.

Gaelan swallowed, his mouth dry. She lifted her hand and he walked to her on unsteady feet, then sank to his knees with a jolt. He stared, his gaze raking over her, the wet muslin shaping her beautiful body in a veil of seduction.

Water pearled on her skin.

"I do not have to trust you to want you, PenDragon." She inched closer, her hands flattening over his chest, the threadbare lawn shirt. "Come to me," she whispered, leaning to touch her lips to his throat as she pulled the fabric from his braies. "Give me again what you gave me two nights past." Her lashes swept up, revealing blue-green eyes snapping with hidden fire. "This time I take from you." Her hands slid under the folds of his shirt, mapping the contours of his chest, her nails rasping over his nipples as she pushed it up. "For I wish to taste you."

Gaelan searched her face. "Out here?"

"Aye." She helped the shirt off over his head, dropping it to the ground, and Gaelan was seeing the hunger she'd suppressed, the need for him she'd smothered in aloofness. Her eyes looked everywhere, pleasure giving and taking in one sweep, her hands moving over his chest with a fascination that stirred him beyond thought. Then she leaned close, her tongue circling a flat coin nipple and he gripped her waist, dropping his head back as heat ground through him.

"We could be seen and I would want to savor this." Gaelan's hand moved over the slope of her hips to cup her b.u.t.tocks, knead the soft flesh.

"But I want now," she pleaded, her fingers hovering at the edge of his braies. His muscles convulsed beneath her touch. "I want to touch you as you did me."

He met her gaze, his body pulsing savagely, blood rushing through his veins. "You do and I will not last, Siobhan." His touch rode wildly over her b.u.t.tocks, her spine, palming her b.r.e.a.s.t.s.

"But can you stop me?" Her small hand dipped inside his braies and enfolded his hard flesh. Gaelan jerked and moaned, crushing her to him as she stroked him warmly, her fingers slicking over the velvety tip of him. He trembled violently, his groan almost an agonized roar.

"Oh, G.o.d."

She manipulated his hard flesh as she whispered hotly against his mouth, "I find I have an appet.i.te for the dragon, husband." She licked his lips and his ragged breath tumbled into her mouth. "Come. Satisfy it."

Chapter 17.

The seams of his hungry soul split at the softly spoken demand. An eternity of unbridled pleasure pa.s.sed before he gathered his thoughts and met her gaze, s.n.a.t.c.hing her hand away from his arousal. "You are certain of this?"

"You tease me for days and ask that?" She nipped at his lips, his throat.

His eyes slammed shut, his breathing ragged. The antic.i.p.ation would surely kill him. "I do not want what you do not wish to give me, Siobhan."

"I plan to take, PenDragon-" Her tongue snaked over his nipple as she loosed his hold. "Mayhaps I was not clear?" Her hand dove again, her fingers sliding mercilessly over his erection.

"Aye-oh, sweet Jesu, woman." He pried her hand from him, a warning in his eyes. "Want me to slam into you and not please you?"

His excitement was hers, coating her, arousing her with the power of it. "You please me with your trembling, my lord." Without hesitation she climbed onto his lap, her moist flesh pressing hotly to his hardness, and Gaelan caught her jaw in his broad palms, the threads of his restraint snapping as he kissed her, a dark plundering of lips and tongue that ignited the pa.s.sion to glorious heights.

She rocked against him, her body begging for more, and his hands rode down her shoulders, her arms, sweeping around to cup her b.u.t.tocks and grind her to him.

"Someone could come upon us," he said, even as he hurriedly peeled her wet shift off over her head. Her arms above her head, he looked his fill of her swelling b.r.e.a.s.t.s, her naked belly and the dark red tuft between.

"I know." Her smile was catlike, wicked, as her hands floated to his shoulders. He cupped her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, kneading them, and she leaned back, offering him more. Gaelan bent to wrap his lips around her nipple and suck the tender tip deep into the heat of his mouth. She arched and gasped, her fingers digging into his broad shoulders. He held her suspended, bent back over his strong arms, his mouth torturing her bosom with heated kisses, his teeth scoring lightly over the soft cushiony underside.

The velvety tip of him slicked her and he growled like a beast, pushing her to her back, his hip spreading her.

Still she played. "I want to taste you as you did me."

"Nay, Siobhan, and if you do not cease your squirming I will come now."

"Come where?" she teased.

She rolled him easily onto his back and straddled him, her hair a red veil of privacy as her mouth played over his throat, his chest. She suckled and stroked, molding the carved muscles of his chest, the ridges of his stomach. She met his gaze, her eyes darkening with seduction as she pushed his braies farther down, releasing him fully.