He laughed a little--a laugh that thrilled her with its exultation, its passion. And then, whether she would or not, he turned her face upwards to meet his own.
His kisses descended upon her hotly, suffocatingly. He held her pressed to him in such a grip as seemed to drive all the breath out of her quivering frame. His lips were like a fierce flame on face and neck--a flame that grew in intensity, possessing her, consuming her. The mastery of his hold was utterly irresistible.
She gasped and gasped for breath as one suddenly plunged in deep waters. His violence appalled her, well-nigh quenching her rapture. She was more terrified in those moments than she had ever been before. She almost felt as if the godlike being she had so humbly adored from afar had turned upon her with the demand for human sacrifice. Those devouring kisses sent unimagined apprehensions through her heart. They seemed to satisfy him so little while they sapped from her every atom of vitality, leaving her helpless as an infant, her body drawn to his as a needle to the magnet, not of her own volition, but simply by his strength. And ever the fire of his passion grew hotter till she felt as one bound on the edge of a mighty furnace which scorched her mercilessly from head to foot.
She was near to fainting when she felt his arms relax, and suddenly above her upturned face she heard his voice, low and deep, like the growl of an angry beast.
"What have you come here for? Go! You're not wanted."
In a flash she realized that they were no longer alone. She would have disengaged herself, but she was too weak to stand. She could only cling feebly to the supporting arm.
In that moment a great wave of humiliation burst over her, sweeping away her last foothold. For without turning she knew who it was who stood behind her; she knew to whom those furious words had been addressed.
Before her inner sight with overwhelming vividness there arose a vision--the vision of Greatheart in his shining armour with a drawn sword in his hand; and in his eyes--But no, she could not look into his eyes.
She hid her face instead, burning and quivering still from the touch of those passionate lips, hid it low against her lover's breast, too shamed even for speech.
There came a movement, the halting movement of a lame man, and she heard Scott's voice. It pierced her intolerably, perfectly gentle though it was.
"I am sorry to intrude," he said. "But Isabel begged me to come and look for--Dinah." His pause before the name was scarcely perceptible, but that also pierced her through and through. "I don't think she is quite equal to this."