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They had so little time. She nearly said it before she stopped herself. If time was so short, then what they had was precious. If she was damned for taking it for only the two of them, then she was damned.
“Then let it rest we will.” She lay back, stretched out a hand for his. “Come kiss me again. Come lie with me.”
He skimmed a hand up her thigh, watched her smile bloom slow. And the light. Oh, the light. “Stay right there.” He bounded out of bed, grabbing his jeans on the run.
She blinked. “What? Where are you going?”
“Be right back. Don’t move. Stay right there.”
She huffed out a breath at the ceiling. Then her face softened again and she stretched her arms high. Oh, she felt well loved. Like a cat thoroughly stroked. Chuckling, she glanced over at Hecate, curled in front of the hearth and watching her.
“Aye, you know the feeling, don’t you? Well, I like it.” The cat only stared, unblinking. Ten seconds. Twenty. Bryna closed her eyes. “I need the time. Damn it, we need it. A few hours after so many years. Why should we be denied it? Why must there be a price for every joy? Go then, leave me be. If the fare comes due, I’ll pay it freely.”
With a swish of her tail, the cat rose and padded out of the room. Calin’s footsteps sounded on the steps seconds later. Prepared to smile, Bryna widened her eyes instead. He’d snapped two quick pictures before she could push herself up and cross her arms over her breast.
“What do you think you’re about? Taking photographs of me without my clothes. Put it away. You won’t be hanging me on some art gallery wall.”
“You’re beautiful.” He circled the bed, changing angles. “A masterpiece. Drop your left shoulder just a little.”
“I’ll do no such thing. It’s outrageous.” Shocked to the core, she tugged at the rumpled spread, pulled it up—and to Cal’s mind succeeded only in looking more alluring and rumpled.
But he lowered the camera. “I thought witches were supposed to like to dance naked under the full moon.”
“Going skyclad isn’t an exhibition. And there’s a time and place for such things. No one snaps pictures of private matters nor of rituals.”
“Bryna.” Using all his charm, he stepped closer, tugged gently at the sheet she’d pulled over her breasts. “You have a beautiful body, your coloring is exquisite, and the light in here is perfect. Unbelievable.” He skimmed the back of his fingers over her nipple, felt her tremble. “I’ll show them to you first.”
She barely felt the sheet slip to her waist. “I know what I look like.”
“You don’t know how I see you. But I’ll show you. Lie back for me. Relax.” Murmuring, he spread her hair over the pillows as he wanted it. “No, don’t cover yourself. Just look at me.” He shot straight down, then moved back. “Turn your head, just a little. I’m touching you. Imagine my hands on you, moving over you. There. And there.” He braced a knee on the foot of the bed, working quickly. “If I had a darkroom handy, I’d develop these tonight and you’d see what I see.”
“I have one.” Her voice was breathless, aroused.
“What?”
“I had one put in for you, off the kitchen.” Her smile was hesitant when he lowered the camera and stared at her. “I knew you would come, and I wanted you to have what you needed, what would make you comfortable.”
So you would stay with me, she thought, but didn’t say it.
“You put in a darkroom? Here?”
“Aye, I did.”
With a laugh, he shook his head. “Amazing. Absolutely amazing.” Rising, he set the camera down on the bureau. “I think you need to be a little more…mussed before I shoot the rest of that roll.” He climbed onto the bed. “The things I do for my art,” he murmured and covered her laughing mouth with his.
6
Later, in thebreezy evening when the sun gilded the sky and polished the air, he walked with her toward the cliffs. Both his mind and his body were relaxed, limber.
Logically he knew he should be racing to the nearest psychiatric ward for a full workup. But a lonely cliffside, a ruined castle, a beautiful woman who claimed to be a witch—visions and sex and legends. It was a time and place to set logic aside, at least for a while.
“It’s a beautiful country,” he commented. “I’m still trying to adjust that I’ve only been here since this morning. Barely twelve hours.”
“Your heart’s been here longer.” It was so simple to walk with him, fingers linked. So simple. So ordinary. So miraculous. “Tell me about New York. All the movies, the pictures I’ve seen have only made me wonder more. Is it like that, really? So fast and crowded and exciting?”
“It can be.” And at that moment it seemed a world away. A thousand years away.
“And your house?”