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She moaned deep in her throat, like a dove that had found a treat. The scent of her pampered him, roused him from the drowsy austerity of his former life and into the world of the senses. Harnessing her fire as if it were some beautiful, temperamental animal, he muttered in her ear. “More.”

There was nothing more they could do. There was nothing he knew of beyond this poking and thrusting.

But his body seemed to be hearing something from her body. With her, he knew there was more than just physical movements. If he could get it just right; if he could hold her tight enough, give her enough pleasure, he could conquer her. He could possess her.

Reaching between them, he found the pouting lips that protected her from too much delight and opened them so each thrust rubbed his pubic bone against her.

She reacted with a frantic scrambling. She called his name, and her voice contained a sob. She strained against him.

Still he said, “More.”

His body reacted as if he were fighting the greatest battle of his life. His heart beat half out of his chest. His lungs burst from strain. His legs shook from the pleasure. He wanted to collapse. He wanted to go on.

He wanted.

“You’re…mine.” He buried himself in her.

“You’re…mine.” He sucked at her neck.

“You’re…mine.” He rubbed his chest over hers until her nipples peaked.

He was throbbing, waiting, knowing he couldn’t wait, giving her so much of him he might never find it all again.

Then heat blasted like that from a kiln around him. She rose beneath him with a shriek. She clawed at him. She sucked at him, but not with her mouth.

And the same heat engulfed him. He burst into flame, pumping his life into her, so deep inside her they melted together and were fired into one.

But he couldn’t relax and revel in that moment. He had to tell her now. He had to hear her admit it.

Letting go of her legs, he pushed his hands into her hair. He held her head so he could look into her eyes. “You’re mine.”

“Nay.”

That single word doused his fire like a splash of icy water. She dared to say nay? After the most fabulous experience of his life, she dared to deny him? Didn’t she understand with whom she dealt?

He swung off her so fast half the furs on the bed landed on the floor. He landed on the floor, too, his feet beneath him. He tugged the rug beneath her toward him until she lay beneath his standing wrath. “Nay? After what we just did, you can say nay?”

Her eyes had an exhausted slant to them. Her wide lips were swollen, as though, before she gave in to them, she’d fought the sounds of pleasure. Her hair trailed halfway across the bed. She looked the epitome of exhausted sexuality. But she still said, “Nay.”

He needed to take her again. He realized that now. He should never have left her so abruptly. If he stayed inside her, if he kept making love to her, he could make her say she was his. She’d admit it when he’d possessed her often enough, he knew it—and, praise the saints, his body was willing.

She sat up on her elbows and pushed the hair off her forehead. “I told you I wouldn’t give all to you. Be satisfied with what you’ve got.” She looked at his face, saw something that vexed her, and pushed her hair back again as if exasperated. “I should have never told you what I withheld. You would have never known.”

Wouldn’t he? He stared at her. Perhaps not. Not at first. At first he would have been satisfied with the dance of bodies that she performed so well. And he hadn’t ever been married before. Probably he hadn’t even been loved. How could one miss what one had never had?

But he would have. He wasn’t a stupid man, no matter what she thought, and he had memories of Edlyn…

“You were in that barn, weren’t you?”

She sprang clear of the bed so quickly she pulled the rest of the furs off the bed. “What?” Scrambling on the floor, she snatched at her cotte. She held it in front of her as if she were afraid to lift her arms and pull it over her head.

Her reaction convinced him those vague recollections were the truth, and he stalked toward her. “You were in the barn. You were spying on me, and you saw me swiving that woman.”

“Her name was Avina,” Edlyn snapped. Then she blushed a ruddy red.

“I remember now.” Memory fragments floated to the surface of his mind. Fragments that tugged at whole rafts of thoughts, amazing thoughts, thoughts so suffused with lust and magic he could scarcely contain his excitement. “I was sick, and I remember hearing your voice. You called up the old times. You told me about Avina, and watching us—”

She tried to skitter to the door. He raced ahead and slammed his arm across the wood like a living bar to escape. “You said you loved me.”