Alex stood at the head of the stairs, staring down into the inky blackness. There was no crash, or sounds of falling, but Alex didn't have a candelabra with him. He would not chance breaking his neck in pursuit of a phantom. d.a.m.n it all. It was someone within the keep. He had hoped that Wolf's disappearance was an isolated occurrence, that someone had gained access via the cove and had their revenge. But the culprit was still here and he'd been after Fayth.

Eliot. It had to be.

Alex went to the main staircase and whistled softly. Two men appeared from the darkness. He instructed one to search the lower floors for anything unusual and posted the other at the bottom of the unused servants' stairs.

When they departed, Alex returned to his candlelit bench. He started to sit when he noticed the gray rectangle of Fayth's doorway. The intruder had unlatched the door and it must have swung open. Alex walked quietly to the door and reached for the latch to pull it closed.

Moonlight streamed into the room from the open shutters, illuminating the room with a soft silver glow. The air left him at once when he saw her, standing an arm's length away, beside the open door.

Her hair floated around her shoulders, partially hiding her face. Her nightshift covered her from wrist to toes, but the neck gaped, exposing soft collarbones and neck. He recalled having his hands against that skin. His palms itched, hungry for the feel of her.

The eyes that gazed up at him were luminous, unblinking.

"What are you doing, standing there?" His voice sounded strange, raw and broken.

"I thought it was you."

His mind raced forward, trying to find hidden meaning in her words. "It is me."

"I mean... I thought it was you at the door... coming to me."

His heart slammed a painful rhythm against his ribs. Blood rushed loudly in his ears. I thought it was you... coming to me. She hadn't moved; neither had he. He still leaned forward awkwardly, his hand grasping the door latch. Why can't you rescue me?

"Were you going to send me away?"

She shook her head, curls brushing her shoulders.

Alex gripped the latch so fiercely the metal bit into his palm. "Fayth..." He didn't know what he meant to say. He hadn't the strength to tell her no again.

She wore nothing beneath her nightshift. Small toes peeked at him. When she stepped toward him, he glimpsed tiny, arched feet, the ankles so delicate he could snap them with one hand.

"You sit out there every night." She gazed up at him, her skin limed in moonlight. "And I can't sleep, knowing you're there... so close."

The muscles in his arm trembled from how hard he gripped the door latch. He released it, flexing his cramping hand. He wanted to touch her, but knew if he did, it wouldn't be enough. Still, his hand rose, sliding over soft skin, to cup her cheek. Her fingers gripped his wrist and she lifted her chin, waiting for his kiss.

He lowered his head, until his mouth hovered over hers. "If we do this-"

She closed the distance between them, pressing her lips to his and silencing his warnings. He pulled her into his arms, words forgotten in the warmth of her mouth, the stroke of her tongue.

Fayth tried to pull him closer. He was so tall and she, so much smaller. She wanted him over her, around her. She couldn't believe he was here, in her room. Every night she prayed he would come to her-and here he was. She would not let him walk away. When he held her and kissed her, she could forget who he was, who she was, and that's all she wanted tonight. To be man and woman, not Graham and Maxwell.

His hands slid beneath her arms, lifting her above him. She gasped, but understood readily. Her arms snaked tightly around his neck, her thighs gripping his waist. She laughed at his power, his strength, as he shut the door and carried her to bed.

He smiled back, wicked and knowing, before capturing her mouth again. He sat on the bed, so she straddled him, and she kissed him and kissed him, until she could hardly breathe from the pleasure of his mouth. His hands were beneath her nightshift, sliding over her back and waist, and lower, to cup her bottom.

She moved against him. Her body ached and throbbed, and pressing her groin to his sent ripples of excitement deep in her belly. He groaned into her mouth. His arms circled her so tightly she felt the rumbling timbre of his voice in her bones. Then his hands were at the neck of her shift, inelegant and eager. When he could not untie the knot, he yanked, ripping the material open and exposing her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. She gasped, then laughed.

The hands that pushed the material from her shoulders were gentle, trembling slightly as they slid over her back. She was bare from the waist up, shivering in the breeze from the open window. He lowered his mouth to her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, his tongue swirling over the peak, while his hand slid down her belly, between her thighs.

She gasped his name between panted breaths; his fingers seeking, pleasuring. She clutched his shoulders, mindlessly receiving all he gave. He lifted her off him, laying her on her back. He spread her thighs, and to her profound astonishment, replaced his fingers with his mouth. The protest caught in her throat, her hands poised to push his head away. Her head fell back, her hands grabbing handfuls of sheet. He held her firmly as her hips writhed and jerked, his tongue and fingers working in rhythm with the pounding of her heart. She thought she would die. She could barely draw breath, her body coiled and tightened, the ache building inexorably to some climax she could not fathom. And then it burst over her and she heard her own disjointed cries and whimpers.

Her body was limp as a rag and she thought perhaps she'd gone blind, as she could see nothing but splotches of light and color. But her sight slowly returned, along with her hearing. Alex moved about nearby, but his hands and mouth were gone. She became aware of her undignified position: shredded shift bunched about her waist, her b.r.e.a.s.t.s bared, arms limp at her sides and thighs spread wide, exposing herself completely to him.

She summoned the energy to close her legs, but before she arranged her shift, he leaned over her, arms braced on either side of her head, and gloriously naked. She could only stare at him, illuminated as he was in the moon's pale light. His broad shoulders were cloaked in corded muscle, veins stood out on arms thick with sinew. Dark hair covered a heavy chest, leading down a flat belly, and farther... Her eyes jerked back to his, her cheeks flaming.

"What you did was wicked," she said, as his head lowered, eyes shining in the moonlight.

"Ye didna like it?" he whispered, his tongue tracing the lobe of her ear. He stripped away her shift and tossed it over his shoulder.

She shivered, hands sliding over his arms. "You know I did." Her hand stopped at his ravaged shoulder. The bandage was gone and it was scabbed over. He lifted his head at her tentative touch, frowning slightly.

"I'll put my shirt on, if ye'd rather."

His Scots grew thicker with emotion, and she kissed the corners of his mouth, loving the knowledge that she, and this act, moved him.

"No, I want your skin against mine."

A sigh shuddered through him and his eyes closed as he slipped his arms beneath her, pulling her against his chest. He kissed her, long and slow, his knee pressing between hers. She opened her legs to him, her body tender from his mouth, but warm and throbbing again, ready for him to fill her.

The tip of him pressed against her and she shifted her hips to take him. He gazed down into her face, the muscles standing out on his neck and shoulders, as if he were under great strain. He pushed into her slowly, and she gasped at the invasion, her eyes widening-afraid she couldn't take him, that he would rip her apart. But then he was in, their bodies pressed together tightly, and the pain abated. She tightened around him, her body rippling with sudden pleasure that he was inside her; his skin, damp with sweat and smooth as silken steel, pressed to hers. The crinkly hairs of his chest abraded her nipples. The scent of him, the taste of him, filled her.

He was so very still, his broad, muscular hands framing her face. It was as if he were afraid she would shatter.

"I'm fine, Alex," she whispered, kissing his neck and chin. "I'm a strong la.s.s."

He withdrew slowly and she hissed at the loss. His brow furrowed until her hips rose to take him again. His eyes shut and he began to move inside her, slowly at first, then faster at her little cries of pleasure and urgings.

He groaned loudly, his sweat mingling with hers and said, his voice hoa.r.s.e, "Jesus G.o.d... I'm sorry la.s.s, I canna stop."

She had no idea what he apologized for, she'd never felt anything so fine. She was frantic to have him deeper; he stroked something inside that sent her body coiling and shuddering all over again. He thrust deeply again and again.

"Fayth... Oh G.o.d, Fayth..."

She sunk her teeth into his arm to m.u.f.fle her cries of pleasure. He throbbed inside her, but his body was still, except his heavy breathing. His heart raced against hers.

She lay there, covered by him, her arms and legs still wrapped tightly around him as they calmed, and wondered at what she'd done. She'd ever been heedless of consequences when she wanted something. And she'd wanted him so very badly. He'd warned her there were consequences to this act.

Alex rolled onto his side, resting his head in his arm and looking at her. Her eyes went to his ravaged shoulder and her brow creased. It would be a brutal scar, even now that it healed it looked violent and painful.

"I promise it doesn't hurt."

She met his warm gaze and smiled uncertainly. "I wish I could take it back."

"Well, you cannot." His eyes darkened. He pushed a curl from her forehead, his hand coming to rest on her shoulder. "We cannot take this back either."

What did he mean? She didn't want to take it back. But as she gazed at his troubled expression her heart chilled. He was worried about Gealach. He was afraid by lying with her he'd ruined his chance to use her for a trade.

He stared blankly at the sheet covering her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, his brow furrowed with thought. How could it hurt so much? Tears burned at the backs of her eyes, fighting to free themselves, but she wouldn't cry-not in front of him.