When he eased into her, braced on his elbows, he felt her ripple around him. He closed his eyes against the sweet burn and shuddered, almost weeping with the joy she brought him.
“I can feel your love flowing into me,” she purred with his first stroke.
“And yours comes back to me,” he answered as he withdrew and her hips lifted in pursuit.
With each thrust, he held himself rigid inside her until the ripples started again. Then he stopped. “Tell me.”
“I love you.”
He started again. Then stopped. “Tell me.”
“I love you.”
“Again.”
“I love you.”
Over and over, he controlled her, setting the pace, urging the love words he needed to hear.
They were magicians that night, creating enchantment in a room that seemed worlds apart, separated by time and distance from the rest of humanity. Only they existed. Rising higher and higher under the magic spell, they climbed to new plateaus of sexuality. His arousal was the magic wand, her sheath the charm, but the sorcery was in the love that permeated them.
When he finally thrust his release into her body, she pulled his face down, taking his cry into her mouth. And her body clasped him hotly as they both spun and spun and spun. Splintering into perfect ecstasy.
For one split second, they were given a vision of eternity.
And harmony.
After dawn the next morning, their horses were saddled, ready to leave Rich Bar. And Helen couldn’t find Rafe.
They’d already eaten breakfast in the dining room. Then Rafe had gone out with Yank while she finished packing.
“Do you have any idea where Rafe is?” Helen approached Mary now as she scrubbed the dining tables.
“Yank said something about taking Rafe to see a grove of redwood trees.”
“Trees? Rafe wanted to see trees? Now?” she exclaimed.
Mary laughed. “Yep. I thought it was mighty peculiar, too.”
They walked out onto the porch together and saw Rafe and Yank walking toward them, though a considerable distance away.
The postmaster’s wife, Julie, strolled up then, balancing an infant in one arm and a toddler in the other. Helen offered to hold the baby while Julie engaged Mary in a conversation about curtains.
Helen closed her eyes and savored the precious scent of baby skin and talcum powder. With a sigh, she cuddled the gurgling baby onto her shoulder.
“Well, I guess that’s what happens when you marry them. They just dawdle around.”
Helen turned at the sound of Rafe’s teasing voice and saw him flinch at the spectacle of her holding the baby.
He was not pleased.
“Let’s get this show on the road,” he grumbled, walking away from her and over to his horse.
Her eyes widened with hurt at his harsh tone. But then she gave the baby a soft kiss before handing her back to her mother. Making a face at Rafe’s back, she said, “Hey, you’re the one who went off tree watching.”
“Nag, nag, nag.” He was observing her again, but lovingly now that she no longer cradled the infant in her arms.
“I love you, too, you dope.”
“You can’t get on my good side with sweet talk, babe.”
“Wanna bet.”
Yank and Mary burst out laughing behind them.
“Ain’t marriage grand?” Rafe remarked rhetorically.
“Yes!” they all said.
Helen had been somber and weepy ever since they’d left Rich Bar three days ago. Ever since he’d snapped at her. But, hell, it had been such a shock seeing her holding that baby, her eyes misty with longing. She’d looked so… so right with a baby.
Damn! Damn! Damn! He had to make things better with Helen. “Honey, do you want to stop for the night?” It was only late afternoon, but they’d been riding since early morning. Her face looked white and drawn. She nodded.
Rafe dismounted in a small clearing, much like the one where they’d camped with their three captors more than eleven weeks ago — it seemed like aeons. He reached out his arms for her, and she slipped off her horse.
When she made to move out of his embrace, he closed his arms around her waist. Tipping up her chin, he asked, “Helen, what’s wrong? You’ve been moody for days. If it’s about Rich Bar, well, I’m sorry if I bit your head off. It was the sight of you with that baby — “