"You're thinking again." He nibbled his way up to her temple. "I'll have to ask you to stop that."

"All right. Okay."

Her breathy agreement made him yearn. "Mavourneen dheelish. Let me have you tonight." His mouth came back to hers and sent her already scattered thoughts spinning. "Let it be tonight. I can't go on just dreaming of you."

"You still want me?" The stunned pleasure in her voice nearly dropped him to his knees. It humbled him, her complete lack of vanity.

"I want all there is of you. Don't ask me to go tonight."

She'd followed her heart to this place, and had found him. Now she would follow her heart again. "No." She tangled her fingers in his hair, met his mouth with all the newly discovered love and pa.s.sion in her.

"No, don't go."

He could have lowered her to the floor, taken her there and delighted them both in front of the fire. Neither of them was a child, and both were eager. But he remembered a promise made and scooped her up in his arms. When he saw the dazed surprise on her face, he knew it was right.

"I told you that the first time it would be slow and sweet. I'm a man of my word."

No one had ever carried her before. The romance of it was stunning, an erotic fantasy with gilt edges. Her heartbeat drummed in her ears like thunder as he carried her up the steps, down the little hall into the bedroom.

She was grateful for the dark. It would be easier not to be shy in the dark. When he sat her on the edge of the bed, she closed her eyes. Then they sprang open again when he turned on the bedside light.

"Pretty Jude," he murmured, and smiled down at her. "Just sit a moment, and I'll light the fire."

A fire, she thought. Of course, a fire would be good. She linked her hands together and tried to settle the nerves, smooth out the needs. It would add atmosphere as well as warmth. He'd want atmosphere. Oh, G.o.d, why couldn't she think of something to say? Why didn't she have some wonderful negligee or lingerie to change into and dazzle him?

Speechless, she watched him straighten from the fire once it began to flame, then begin to light the candles scattered around the room.

"I was going to call you tonight and ask you to dinner."

The idea was such a surprise, such an intriguing one, she stared. "You were?"

"That'll have to wait for another time now." He kept his eyes on her, seeing her nerves, enjoying them a bit, as he switched off the lamp again. And the room was washed in shadows and shifting light.

"I'm not very hungry."

He laughed. "I'm after changing that, right quickly then." To her complete shock, he crouched down and began to untie her shoes. "I've had an appet.i.te for you since you first walked into the pub."

She swallowed. Hard. It was the best she could do. Then he ran a finger lightly over the arch of her bare foot and the breath strangled in her throat.

"You've pretty feet." He said it casually, with a laugh in his eyes as he lifted her foot and nibbled on her toes. The breath that had caught exploded out again, and her fingers dug like spikes into the mattress.

"But I have to admit, after seeing them this morning all damp and rosy I have a preference for your shoulders."

"My-oh-" He gave his attention to her other foot and wiped her brain clean. "What?"

"Your shoulders. I fancy them" Because it was true enough, he rose, and lifted Jude to her now tingling feet. "They're graceful, but they're strong." As he spoke, he unb.u.t.toned the shirt she'd borrowed. To torment them both a little longer, he didn't remove it, but only nudged it off her shoulders so he could do as he'd imagined and trail his tongue along the curve.

"Oh, G.o.d." The sensation drizzled into her system like gold dust until everything inside her sparkled. When she gripped his hips for balance, he worked his way up the side of her neck to her jaw, like a man slowly sampling his way through a variety of dishes at a banquet.

His mouth brushed over hers, a teasing taste that stirred the juices of her own hunger. He heard it in her quiet moan and came back for a second, longer taste.

Her hands slid up his back, and she moved her body against his in a dreamy rhythm as her head fell back in surrender.

Slow, he said, and sweet. It was exactly right. With the candlelight dancing and the rain softly pattering and her own sighs filling her head, soft kisses grew longer, and deeper. It seemed her body was alive with the taste of him now, rich and male and perfect.

When he tugged his shirt off she gave a low sound of pleasure and let her hands roam over his back, knead into the muscles.

His heart leaped against hers. Those slow, hesitant strokes of her hands were maddening. Wonderful. Her mouth was so soft, so giving. And the way she shivered-nerves and antic.i.p.ation-when he unhooked her slacks and let them slide to the floor flashed fresh heat into his blood. Gaelic endearments burned in his brain, tumbled off his tongue as he took his mouth over her face, down her throat, once again over those glorious shoulders until her shivers became shudders and her sighs gasps.

Slow down, slow down, he ordered himself. But how could he have known that the need for her would rear up and snap into his soul with jagged teeth? Afraid he would frighten her, he pressed his lips to the curve of her throat and just held her until the rage of it settled again.

She was floating, too tangled in sensations to note the changes of rhythm. Dreamily, she turned her head, found his mouth with hers and slid them both into the kiss. It seemed her bones were dissolving, and the pressure in her belly was glorious. Everywhere he touched, a part of her lit up.

This was making love, was all she could think. At last, this. How could she have mistaken anything else for this?

He had to have more. He slipped the shirt aside and found himself charmed by the simple white bra. To please himself, he trailed a fingertip along the top edge, circled the tiny mole.

Her legs buckled. "Aidan."

"When I saw this little dot this morning," he murmured, watching her face, "I wanted to bite you." When she only blinked at him, he grinned and flicked open the hook of her bra. "It made me wonder what other s.e.xy little secrets you hide under those tidy clothes of yours."

"I don't have any s.e.xy secrets."

The bra fell to the floor. Aidan lowered his gaze, watched the faint flush work over her skin and found it sinfully erotic. "You're wrong about that," he said quietly, then cupped her b.r.e.a.s.t.s in his hands.

There, that quick jerk of shock, and the glimmer of surprise in her eyes. Experimentally, he rubbed his thumbs over her nipples and watched those sea-green eyes blur.

"No, don't close them," he said as he lowered her to the bed. "Not yet. I want to see what my touching you does to you."

So he watched her face as he enjoyed her, as he learned the secrets she'd claimed not to have. Silky skin and tumbled hair, all smelling of rain. Soft curves, subtle dips. When his workingman's hands skimmed over her, she would quiver. And each secret he discovered was a pleasure to them both.

When he tasted her, the world slipped away until there was nothing but the rage of her own pulse and the hot glory of his mouth on her skin.

Ripe for release, she arched against his hand when he covered her. Moved against him as the ache sweetened and the sweetness became unbearable. His mouth came down on hers, catching her cry of pleasure. He gave her more, more until her breath was sobs and her body molten.

The eyes that so fascinated him were blind now, and her skin glowing and damp. It wasn't only her world that had slipped away, but his as well. She was all that was left in it.

He said her name once, then slid into her. Heat into heat, need into need, strong and deep. Holding there, holding, until she wrapped herself around him.

Joined now, they moved together, long, slow strokes that fed the soul. Dazzled, she smiled. Light shimmered, like the brilliance of the diamond as his lips curved in response and met hers.

This, she thought, was the real magic. The most powerful. And clinging to it, she leaped off the edge of the world with him.

Candlelight fluttered. The fire hissed and rain pinged on the windows. There was a gorgeous, exciting, fascinating, and wonderfully naked man in her bed.

Jude felt like a cat who'd just been given the keys to the milking parlor.

"I'm so glad William's having a baby."

Aidan turned his head, found his face buried in her hair, and angled it away again. "What the devil does William have to do with it?"