Page 45 of A Night of Secret Surrender

Basic. Honest. The waves were mounting now, all the parts of her joined in need, pressing for the relief that did not come as he stopped and withdrew.

She felt like falling down to the sun-warmed rocks and was pleased to see him take off his clothes. In the dying day he was unmatched, an Adonis presented to her in the glory of light.

The garden of Eden. The rightness of being here was all-encompassing and as he came against her she knew his urge flamed just as her own did, the hardness of his manhood sliding into the soft wet centre of her femininity. Riding him. Gloriously. Onwards and upwards into the place where the heat burst in upon them both, breathless and shocking, building with wonder before exploding into fragments, the release so acute.

As their breathing finally slowed, he lifted her up and took her back into the river, the cleansing water running across them, soothing their aches.

The night was here now, the birdsong silenced, the small sounds of insects loud in the dark.

When she shivered, he wrapped her in a blanket and lay another on a grassy bank a few yards away.

He did not dress himself, but brought food from his saddlebag, placing it before her as a gift before seeing to the horses, hobbling them so that they would not wander.

When he rejoined her, he had on his shirt and trousers, though his feet were bare.

‘I’ve refilled the water bottle.’ He handed it to her, the tiny contact bringing a flush to her cheeks, but it was now so dark she knew it would pass unnoticed.

‘I can’t light a fire in case it is seen.’

‘You think others are close?’

‘No. It’s just a precaution.’

His glance took in the bodice she now had on, the heavier shirt unworn. She felt her nipples harden even at his notice.

‘I can’t stop...needing you.’ His words were broken and hoarse, like an apology. They had seldom spoken in the heat of their lust, any words unsuited and out of place. What could they promise each other, after all?

‘Then don’t stop.’

‘And what then?’

It was as if he had read her mind.

‘I do not know. I honestly don’t.’

* * *

An hour later she lay in his arms, the blanket across their shared nakedness as she listened to his heartbeat under her hand. Steady. Solid. Like him.

‘I heard once you were in Madeira with your regiment. I could not imagine what it was like there.’

‘Hot and colourful. I got sick for a couple of months and spent a good few weeks in bed. The water I think it was and after that I stuck to whisky.’

‘And when you got back to England you married Anna?’

‘I did. I was lonely, I suppose, and she was kind.’

‘Kind and gentle and sweet?’

‘All those things,’ he gave her back, refusing to be drawn in further.

‘Things you liked.’ She could not just leave it there.

‘Celeste?’

‘Yes?’

‘There are other things I like, too.’