“Come.” He went to her and lifted her in his arms. “Let’s get you some fresh air before you pass out.”
Tanon took a breath then buried her face in his neck and kissed him there, leaving a sooty print.
“Thank you for not bellowing,” she murmured while he opened the back door and carried her a few steps outside. “You know, when you put your mind to it, you can be such a tender, kind spirited—”
He let her go.
Tanon’s arms flailed wildly for one dreadful moment before she hit the freezing water. She sank, and Gareth was tempted to jump in after her. He turned around instead and strode back into the house.
“How could you, Gareth?” He heard her shouting furiously while he searched for a clean drying cloth.
“Gareth!” she screeched, sounding like the pig squealing at his heels.
He returned to her with the cloth in one hand and the soap in the other. “Quit your bellowing, woman.” He tossed her the soap. “You’re fortunate I didn’t hang you by your feet from the rafters. It’s a slow death we savages enjoy inflicting on others now and then.”
She glared up at him, long black strands of dripping wet hair falling over her eyes. “I could have drowned, you uncaring lout.”
He stood there in the grass, six feet of naked male insolence, and grinned at her. “It’s two feet deep where you’re standing. But you’re making me rethink the rafter option.”
Tanon opened her mouth into a wide O and swept both hands across the surface of the water. She managed to soak Gareth quite well on her first attempt.
He gaped at her, sincerely stunned that she had the audacity to douse him. She did it again. He didn’t even shiver at the icy water, but glared at her impish smile.
“I’m warning you, Tanon. Don’t do that—”
She did it a third time, giggled and then spun around to swim away when he took off after her.
She should have known he would be as quick in the water as he was out of it. When his hands spanned her waist, she squealed with laughter.
Pulling her against him, he gazed into her eyes and felt his heart melt all over his ribs. Her eyes glimmered with happiness that seeped into his bones like sweet summer sunshine. Her wet hair clung to her face and he smoothed it away, inhaling a shuddering breath when she closed her eyes at his touch. He’d kissed other women, but each time he kissed Tanon, hell, every time he looked at her, she moved his heart the same way she’d moved it thirteen years ago. He remembered how much he loved her back then. And now, as a man, he loved her all over again. Had he ever stopped? Hadn’t he thought of her in Dafydd’s dungeon? Hadn’t it been the memory of her smiling face, rivaling the brightness of the sun, that kept him sane and strong? He’d known he’d live just so that someday he could find her and see her smile again. When he escaped, the first thing he did after returning home to let his people know he lived, was ride to Winchester. And though he went for the sake of peace, he prayed that she’d be there. Just to see her again… And now, she was his.
He cleaned her as thoroughly as he kissed her, plucking the soap from the water and gently running his soapy fingers through her hair, then scrubbing her cheeks and forehead. His lips sent molten fissures down her spine when he kissed each of her fingers, after cleaning them as well. When he slipped her gown over her head and rubbed his rough, sudsy palms over her breasts and her belly, Tanon sucked in a gasp of the torrid air that enveloped them. His hand slipped around her back to caress her buttocks. With little strength, he held her firmly against his hard, hot passion. He bent his lips to hers, but instead of kissing her, he grazed his mouth over her chin, the alluring softness of her jaw, telling her what he wanted to do to her.
“In the water?” Tanon whispered, surprise and excitement lighting her languid gaze.
He answered her with an erotic slant of his mouth and a seductive grunt that lifted her onto him. He moved slowly, knowing she was sore.
Tanon gripped hisshoulders and rested her forehead against his as pain ebbed and she became weightless in his arms. She coiled her legs loosely around his waist and his smile nearly brought her to the edge of reason. He angled his hips lazily, taking pleasure and giving it with long, unhurried thrusts. His body was warm, his muscles sleek with water. He clenched a fistful of her hair and tipped her head back until her lips were but a breath from his.
“You’re perfect,” he whispered before he molded his mouth to hers in a kiss that was as languorously sensual as his undulating hips. But soon his long, deep plunges quickened. His kiss became more demanding, until he pulled her head back and grazed his mouth, his teeth, over her throat. Clamping his hand to her hips, he pushed her body upward, then drove her back down his full swollen length. He straightened when she cried out, his gaze on her laden with emotion while they found their release.
Later, Gareth found a thin shift for her to wear, while he donned a fresh pair of dark, kidskin pants. They returned to the edge of the stream and lay facing each other beneath the shade of an old oak.
“When I was little,” she told him softly, “I dreamed about you returning.”
He pulled her closer into his arms and kissed her forehead. “I went into battle the month after I left England.”
She leaned up on her elbows and stared at him. “You were ten!”
He nodded. “Many boys my age were put to the field. If you had any defensive skill at all, you were drafted in. Madoc had been there for a year before I got there. All my brothers had already been fighting for years. I was the last to go.”
She looked deep into his eyes, wanting to know him again. “What has your path been like?”
“Same as yours, dutiful.”
“Did you forget me right away?” She wasn’t sure she wanted to know the truth—if the truth was that he never thought of her after he left her. And when would he have had time to remember her on the battlefield? When he was being—
“I pined for you.”