He said nothing, merely regarded her, his stare a palpable weight. She repressed a shiver, remembering her last excursion to his land. She'd nearly failed to summon the power to leave. But, she conceded with a thrill of sexual anticipation so intense that it nearly brought her to her knees, she'd not quite been in a hurry to leave the dark king's dangerous bed. And therein lay double the danger…
"I came to offer my condolences," she said coolly.
His laughter alone could seduce. "So offer, my queen." He moved in a swirl of darkness. "But offer that for which we both know you hunger. Your willing surrender."
And when he was upon her, when he had gathered her up and his great wings began to flap, she let her head fall against his icy breast. Darkness so thick it had texture and taste surrounded her. "Never."
"Heed me well, light one, the only thing you are never with me—is safe."
Much later, when he possessed her completely, a full blood moon stained the sky above the Highlands of Scotland.
Aedan made love to Jane like a man who understood that this day, this moment, only this now was securely in the palm of his hand, taking her with the passionate urgency of a tenth-century Scotsman who knew not what tomorrow might bring: brutal war, drought, or crop-destroying tempest. He made love like a drowning man, desperate for the surety of her body—she was his shore, his raft, his harbor against what storms may come.
And then he made love to her again.
This time, with exquisite gentleness. Brushed his lips against the warm hollow of her neck in which her heartbeat pulsed. Kissed the slopes of her breasts, tasted the salt of her skin and the sweetness of her passion glistening between her thighs, and flexed himself deep within her innermost warmth.
He became part of her. Finally, he knew the kind of loving that made two one and understood Jane was his world. His ocean, his country, his sun, his rain, his very heart.
And that sleek, iced citadel behind his breastbone—behind which he'd concealed from the dark king that which was most infinitely precious to him—cracked at the foundations and came crashing down.
And he finally remembered what he'd sealed away there… his Jane.
"Jane, my own sweet Jane," be cried hoarsely.
Jane's eyes flew wide. He was buried deep within her, loving her slowly and intensely, and although he'd called her name aloud many times during the loving, his voice sounded different this time.
Could it be he'd finally remembered all of it? All those years they'd spent together in dreams, playing and loving and dancing and loving?
"Aedan?" His name held the question she was afraid to ask.
Framing her head with his forearms, he stared down at her. "You came to me. I remember now. You came when I slept, in the Dreaming."
"Yes," Jane cried, joyous tears misting her eyes.
There were no words for a time, only the soft sounds of passion, of a woman being thoroughly loved by her man.
When finally she could catch her breath again, she said, "You were with me always. You watched me grow up, remember?" She laughed self-consciously. "When I was thirteen, I nearly dreaded seeing you because I was so gawky—"
"Nay, you were no such thing. You were a wee lovely lass, I watched your womanhood ripening and saw what you would become. I ached for the day you would be old enough that I could love you in every way."
"Well, you didn't have to wait quite so long," she voiced a long-harbored complaint. "Mmm," she added, gasping, when he nipped her nipple lightly with his teeth. "Do that again."
He did. And again, until her breasts felt ripe and exquisitely sensitive. Then he rubbed his unshaven cheek lightly against her peaked nipples, creating delicious friction.
"I claimed you when you were ten and eight," he managed finally.
"Like I said—long. I was ready way before then. I was ready by sixteen… ooh!"
"You were a wee babe still," he said indignantly, stilling inside her.
"Don't stop," she gasped.
"Doona think for a minute 'twasn't difficult for me to naysay you. 'Twas that my mother insisted all her sons forgo impatience and give a lass time to be a child before having bairn of her own."
"Please," she whimpered.
Heeding her plea, he thrust without cease, and she cried out his name over and again, digging her fingers into his muscular hips, pulling him as deep as she could take him.
He kissed her, taking her cries with his lips until her shudders subsided.
"Have you had time enough, wee Jane?" he asked later, when she lay drowsy and sated in his arms. "We may have made one this very day, you ken."