The experience was staggering-each sensation more
startling than the last. This woman, this young country
widow who had captivated him, was driving him over the
edge of a desire he had not felt in the arms of any other
woman. He was dangerously close to the edge of an
emotional and physical precipice from which he knew he
might never recover should he fall.
It was too late.
He had fallen days ago, and Arthur suddenly grabbed her
hand and pulled it away from his cock, forcing her pale
blue eyes to open and gaze up at him. Tiny tufts of black
curls swirled around her face. Long, silken tresses draped
her skin and the linens of the bed. Her breasts,
magnificently exposed to him, gave her a beguiling
softness that made his heart pound. He had never desired a
woman so intently. He had never yearned to show a woman
what he was feeling, to give her all the pleasure he
could, to fulfill her in ways she had never before
experienced.
Then Kerry reached up to tenderly touch his temple, and he
saw the light in her eyes, the glimmer shone from
somewhere deep inside her and he felt himself falling into
those eyes, drowning in them. Completely immersed, he
could not tear his gaze away from hers as he moved between
her thighs and slowly entered her. Her lips parted with
her body; her eyes fluttered closed with her long sigh,
and her back arched, pushing her breasts against his
chest. As he slid deeper, her body tightened provocatively
around him, luring him into her depths as he began to
move, her body flowing instinctively with his.
To his great surprise, a flood of unfamiliar but intense
emotion was all at once crashing through him, making him
feel oddly tender. Kerry seemed to sense it; she suddenly
opened her eyes and smiled brilliantly. "Arthur," she
whispered, stroking his cheek, and was suddenly plunging
deep into the tidal pool of her longing. His strokes took
on greater urgency now; one of Kerry's arms flailed above
her head, clutching at the linens, while the other raked
his back. She tossed her head to one side, oblivious to
the dark hair that covered her face as Arthur dove into
her again and again.
It was an extraordinary journey, the press of his body
into hers, extraordinary feelings, vague but earnest
feelings he recalled having felt as a young man so
desperately in love. But this was different somehow, so
bloody earthy. As with everything in her life, there was
no pretense with Kerry in this bed. She moaned without
self consciousness, moved just as fiercely as he each time
her body rose up to meet him, and just when he thought he
could bear no more, she shoved him, pushing him onto his
back and rolled on top. Her hair fell like a curtain
around them; she smiled seductively as she braced herself
with her hands against his chest. "You've unleashed a
beast in me, Arthur Christian," she whispered, and began
to move. Ah God, did she move. Arthur grasped her hips,
pushed her down and tried to reach her heart of her. As
his strokes began to quicken, she collapsed onto his
chest, clinging to him, her breath hot and panting in his
ear. "Reach for it, Kerry," he muttered as he reached for
his own.
The pressure in his groin suddenly burst into a thousand
shards that poured into the warm pool of her body. In the
fog of that shattering climax he heard her cry from
somewhere above and felt her body convulse tightly around
him, drawing the life from him. With a final, powerful
thrust, a guttural moan erupted from his throat as he
released the last of the life into her. Gasping for
breath, Arthur slid his arms around her body, holding her
close. Neither of them spoke; it seemed to him that they
were both quite simply stunned by the sweet sensation, the
flame ignited between them. He stroked her hair, the
silken skin of her back. It was several moments before he
realized that the dampness of his shoulder was not
perspiration, but her tears.
He turned his head toward her, but Kerry slid off of him,
burying her face in the crook of his arm. He silently
gathered her into his arms and pulled her back into his
chest, wrapped his legs around her. She said nothing, but
her hand covered his that anchored her to him. They lay
there for what seemed like hours to Arthur, each lost in
their own thoughts, staring at the moonbeam streaming in
through the window. When at last she spoke, he had to
strain to hear her. "You must know that I love you."
The admission hit him square in the gut. "No," he
said. "It's just that it's been a terribly long time since
you-"
She stopped him by chuckling softly. "Arthur, a blind man
could see how much I love you." She paused; the chuckled
died in her throat.
"Donna say anything. Just promise me that you'll go before
the sunrise, will you? Andโฆand donna wake me. I canna bear
to see you walk away." No more than he could bear to walk
away. He tenderly kissed the top of her head.
"I promise."
"And once you've gone home again, you'll send word,
promise that too."
"I promise that, too."
She sighed, a softly tortured sound that made his heart
ache.
"Kerryโฆthis has been an extraordinary fortnight. I shall
never forget my experience here." "
"Then perhaps you will think of me from time to time."
"Aye, lass, I'll think of you, every day I'll think of
you," he murmured into her hair.
She turned in his arms then, seeking his mouth. They made
love again, slowly and surely, taking their time to feel
one another completely, prolong the experience. She
whispered her love again just as they reached a glorious
fulfillment together. Only then did they drift off to
sleep, entwined in one another's arms.
Arthur woke well before the sun had risen, unable to sleep
soundly. Thankful that she was such a heavy sleeper, he
carefully extracted himself from her limbs and quietly
donned his clothes-although he struggled with the
restrictive waistcoat. When he was at last dressed, he
picked up his boots and turned to gaze one more time at
Kerry McKinnon. He stroked her long black hair, tried to
brand the image of her in his mind's eye, the same lovely
visage he had first seen on a bed of pine needles in the
Scottish forest, and one that he would carry with him all
his life.
He longed to kiss her one last time, to hold her, to hear
her whisper that she loved him once more, but true to his
promise, he walked out of the room without waking her.
He tiptoed to the kitchen, only to have the wits startled
from him by Thomas's presence-the ornery Scot looked half-
dead. His head hung over a bowl of coffee he gripped
tightly in his hands. He frowned when Arthur sat on the
bench to don his boots. "Ye be leaving," he said flatly.
"That I be, old chap."
"Why, then? Ye seem to like it here well enough."
Arthur smiled at Thomas as he worked his second boot on
his leg. "McKinnon, I suspected you were a sentimental
goat all along. I like it here quite well indeed, but it
is time I was about my business. I've an appointment in
Dundee that must be kept, and my family will be expecting
me in London shortly."
Thomas snorted and slurped at his coffee. "Ye'll not find
such heaven on this earth as Glenbaden, mark me."
"I know that," he agreed solemnly and stood, helped
himself to several biscuits piled high on a plate in the
middle of the table, which he stuffed into a woven sac May
had given him. He turned and walked to the door and paused
to glance over his shoulder one last time. "You should try
your hand at a little wandering yourself, Thomas. There
are many treasures to behold on this earth that you will
not find in Glenbaden. Mark me," he said, and with a wave,
walked out the door and into the cool early morning air.
And he kept walking, cutting through what was left of the
barley field, his stride brisk and strong. He kept
walking, kept forcing one foot in front of the other.
Not once did he look back, lest he crumble right there in
the middle of this heaven on earth they called Glenbaden.
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