By Design (44 page)

He swung. The impact jarred her whole body, but she did not let go. A break appeared, and the chisel slid into the stone. Four more swings, and a small chunk of stone slid away.

She stared at what they had done, then back at him. He appeared as shocked as she felt.

A laugh burst out of her, along with her joy and amazement. “I did not really think that it would work.”

That made him laugh, too. He shook his head with amused exasperation. “Jesus, woman, your stubbornness is both a curse and a blessing. Who would have thought that making tiles would give you such strength.”

“Again. Let us do it again.”

He placed the chisel.

Over and over, they chipped off white chunks. She became an extension of him. One body, not two, really worked the stone. Two hands, not four, actually held the tools.

The connection grew intense. A unity of purpose bound them together. First their bodies acted as one, and then their souls.

The trance of creation slid into her like it always did when she worked her craft. She greeted its arrival with a smile. Only it was different this time. She was not alone in it. They had shared it before, but not like this. They did not meet each other within that euphoria, but entered it entwined together.

She did not need his guidance for the next cut. Her hands moved, knowing where to go now. She saw the saint imprisoned in the stone, but she did so through Rhys's eyes. She sensed how to move, as if his mind silently spoke to her.

The experience enthralled her. They had merged in the ultimate intimacy.

She glanced back at him. Their gazes met. Aye, Rhys felt it too. Its heady power glinted in his eyes. Total understanding flowed between them.

She began to move the chisel once more. The hand covering hers stopped her. He pried the tool away and cast it aside.

The hammer fell to the ground. His arms circled her. He embraced her to him and bent to kiss her neck.

The intimacy did not disappear. It changed and deepened and she melted into him so thoroughly that she lost herself.

His embrace aroused more than desire. Pressing her back against him, feeling his body, evoked the pain of their separation. Experiencing once again all that this could be, knowing it today at this deepest level, made her ache from the thought of what they had too easily forsaken.

He held her close, wrapped in his arms, lips pressed to her neck, his emotion surrounding her.

“You should not have let me go. You should not,” she whispered.

“Nay, I should not. I should have gone with you, and let you finish it, and then taken you away with me.”

He still bound her closely, but his caressing hand slid up her back to work at her gown's lacing. Anticipation bubbled through her. They would not wait for night and the feather bed. They could not now.

The gown loosened. He turned her, and pressed her against the marble. He slid the fabric off her shoulders and peeled away her shift.

Watching him look at her tantalized more than his hands holding her breasts and his fingers stroking her skin.

“I am going to make love to you now. I spoke of one night, but after I possess you again I will never let you go.” He dipped to kiss her two nipples. She felt that brushing warmth all through her body. It kindled a blaze. A desperate need for total closeness instantly pounded in her.

He lifted her skirt, and caressed up her naked leg. Cold air licked at her, but she did not care. Soon she would have his warmth enclosing her. Filling her.

His hand moved higher, until he cupped her. “I decided in the kitchen that I cannot let you leave again, Joan. I am not that strong and good. I plan to love you so well that you will stay here. Not just for a visit, but forever.”

His touch took her breath away. She could barely speak. “It is why I am here, Rhys. Why I came back. To know freedom with you forever.”

He gazed into her eyes while he intensified the pleasure. “You will tell your brother that this is your home now.”

“I already have, my love. I already have. Mark does not approve, but he will understand someday.”

He leaned her against the stone. He lifted her knee and entered. All of her, body and soul, moaned with relief. She clutched him and rested her head on his shoulder. The joining made them one form, rising out of the marble like a living statue of the act of love.

The pleasure pitched too high for words and restraint. Her body cried for more, but the sweetest fulfillment already saturated her soul.

“I want you to marry me, and add wedding vows to the ones that we made that night. We will stand together in our love before the world.”

His proposal floated to her on the sharp breaths of his passion. Her eyes misted at the sound of the words she had prayed to hear spoken. She held tighter and they moved harder. “Oh, aye.”

“You will be my wife, truly and legally, and bear my children.”

“Aye, love,” she gasped. “Aye.”

“We will live together forever, and find our happiness in this garden. You will be all that matters to me.” His voice came low and ragged. “All that matters.”

He kissed her so that at the end they were totally joined. The power shot through her so violently that the stone wobbled at her back.

She held him to her, feeling his breaths slowly calm on her neck and beneath her arms. Tears streamed down her face, and she did not try to hold them back.

He kissed her wet cheek. He did not ask why she wept. He did not need to. He was with her in the joy. She could feel that this loving had moved him as much as her.

He touched his forehead to hers. No part of her lacked a connection to him, and it would be so forever, even without physical touch.

“I am so grateful that you came back,” he said. “So grateful I was wrong about the future you should have.”

“I had to come back. If I had not, I would have once more lived one life while dreaming about a past one.”

She touched his face, to mold a memory of how he appeared in the sweet aftermath of this perfect union. It
was not necessary to cling desperately to the emotions swelling her heart. She could look forward to a lifetime of such moments.

“I had to come back because I belong with you, Rhys. My heart could be happy nowhere else, nor could I ever feel safe away from your strength. I had to come back to our home, darling. You are the husband of my heart, and you are my champion.”

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S
he faced him, with her chestnut hair pouring down her lithe body. Her lips parted in confusion and her soulful eyes widened with shock. With that expression she almost looked as young as she claimed to be.

“Remove it,” he repeated.

“You cannot tell my age from … At sixteen I already …”

“A female does not stop maturing so early. There is a difference between the voice of a girl and that of a woman, and yours has a mature resonance. There is also a difference in their bodies, especially in the hips. The ones that I just saw struck me as too rounded for sixteen. Remove your garments so that I can check if my fleeting impression was correct.”

Her face flushed a deep red. Sparks of indignation flickered in her dark eyes. He half-expected her to start disrobing and call his bluff.

Then the fires disappeared and her gaze turned cool.

She suddenly reminded him of her father. There was no reason why the hell that should bother him, but it always had, and he abruptly lost interest in the game he had initiated with her.

“I am twenty years old.”

She did not sound like someone who had just been outflanked. Her tone suggested that she had made some decision.

A tiny spike of caution stabbed him.

“Does Madame Leblanc know your true age?”

“She never asked my age when I came. I was small and unschooled and put with the youngest girls. However, she can count the years.”

“But she never raised the question of your future with me.”

“It was not in her interest to do so. You continued paying the fees. I progressed through the curriculum quicker than most. Three years ago I moved to the front of the schoolroom and began teaching what I had been taught.”

“Very convenient for Madame Leblanc. However, you also never raised the question. In fact, you have lied to me about it before, and just did again.”