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“Mrs. Atherton, I know you must be tired after the full day you’ve put in here at Falcon’s Lair. Thank you for taking so much time with me.”
The woman glanced down at her hand, then up into Felicity’s eyes, all the while pursing her lips in a tight, thoughtful line. “I am never too weary to talk to anyone who truly cares about those who dwell at Falcon’s Lair.” She seemed to consider for a moment, then gave voice to her thoughts. “If you wish to learn more, there is a book. ‘Tis old and dusty and difficult to read, since it is handwritten. It is the history of Falcon’s Lair, and it resides on the highest shelf in the library, beside the family Bible. Few save me know of its existence.”
Was that a spark of…friendship in the older woman’s eyes? Felicity could have hugged her. Maud Atherton turned away, and within minutes Felicity was alone, with the portraits of all the lords of Falcon’s Lair staring down at her.
It was that rare hour between darkness and dawn. A soft pearl mist seemed to cover the land. The world was at rest.
Felicity sat on a stone bench in the garden, poring over the pages of the Falcon family history. Just as Maud Atherton had promised, it was all here. Births, deaths, wars. Those who had loved. Those who had lost. Recorded by those who had lived here and had witnessed it all firsthand.
As she turned another page she felt the heat. It seemed to shimmer in waves, until she was forced to lower her shawl.
She knew, without looking around, that Gareth had approached.
Setting the book aside, she turned to him. “Why didn’t you tell me that someone was trying to harm Lord Falcon?”
“By all that is holy, woman,” he said, his voice betraying his inner rage, “I warned you. Even that is more than I am permitted.”
“Permitted?”
“I am forbidden by the Fates to interfere in the affairs of this world.”
She could hear the emotion in his voice, could see the pain in his eyes. At last she understood. “Your powers are limited?”
“Powers.” He spoke the word with venom. “My…powers, such as they are, are useless to help those I love.”
“But you are permitted to love?”
“Love is not a favor granted.” His eyes narrowed with feeling. “Love is an emotion so strong, so powerful, it transcends time and place. Love…” He turned away, but not before she saw the raw passion in his eyes. “Love is pain as well as pleasure.”
“I’m sorry, Gareth. I know about Cara and the fact that you were forced to choose duty and honor over love.”
“Forced?” He whirled to face her. “Nay. In life, one makes choices. I chose to consider the lives of many over the life of one, even though that one life meant more to me than anything in this world.”
“Oh, Gareth.” Seeing his bleak look, she reached out to touch his arm. At once he stepped back.
Instead of drawing away, she took a step closer and boldly curled her fingers into his flesh. “You’ve suffered far too much for your choice.”
He stared down at her hand, and for a moment she thought he would draw away from her. She was startled when he gently lifted her hand to his lips. Against her knuckles, he murmured, “Did you know, little happy face, that you are the first woman since Cara that I have touched? Or permitted to touch me?”
“I knew it was you who caught me on the stairs.”
“Aye, and the touch of you was my undoing.” With a tenderness she would not have believed possible, he lifted her hand to his cheek. “You not only touch me, you touch my heart.”
“Gareth…”
“Shhh.” Though he didn’t move or alter his position, she felt hands on her shoulders drawing her fractionally closer, until their lips were inches apart. Heat shimmered and pulsed around them, but neither seemed to notice. “Since we have already broken the rules, I must break another. I need to taste your lips.”
She thought about protesting. Even as the thought formed, she dismissed it. She wanted what he wanted. She leaned into him, and, though he didn’t move, his lips skimmed over hers.
The hunger was so sharp, so painful, that they both stepped back from it. Those dark, piercing eyes looked into hers, as though reading her soul. She was lost. With a sigh she offered her lips for another intoxicating kiss. This time the press of his hands was rougher as he pulled her against him. On a moan he seemed to devour her as his mouth crushed hers.
This was more than hunger. More than passion. The need was so powerful, so compelling, it could not be satisfied. No kiss or touch could quench this thirst. The heat was so intense now, they could feel sparks igniting wherever they touched.
And oh! They touched. His hands molded her hips to his, then slid along her back, kneading her waist, the slope of her shoulders, the soft curve of her neck. He touched with a hunger that spoke of centuries of loneliness.
Her arms encircled his waist, clinging as if to life itself. Her hands moved up his chest, her fingers curling into the folds of his shirt. Finally, with a sigh, she wound her arms around his neck and gave herself up to the pleasure.
It was a pleasure akin to pain. He wanted her. Wanted her with a desperation that bordered on madness. Here. Now.