"Look at me," he demanded, fighting to expel each word over the heart that pounded thick in his throat. "Damn it, look at me now."
She opened her eyes. Her focus wavered, then sharpened until all she could see was his face.
"I love you." He said it fiercely, his eyes lancing into hers. "Do you hear me?"
"Yes." She gripped his hair. "Yes."
Then she cried out in triumph as he drove himself hard and deep into her. The orgasm rolled through her like a wave of lava, leaving her shaken and scorched. As her eyes closed again he savaged her mouth while his body tirelessly plunged.
Mindlessly she matched his pace, leaping heedlessly into the storm they brewed between them. She thought she heard thunder roll, and lightning flare its wicked fingers across the sky. Her body exploded, shattered, then went glowingly limp.
Her hands slid bonelessly from his back. She heard him say her name, felt him coil, then shudder, then drop his weight onto her.
He let himself wallow in her hair, kept his face buried there while his system vibrated. She was trembling again, or still, little bursts he knew were the aftershocks of good sex. He'd have stroked her to soothe-if he could have moved.
"I'll get off you in a minute," he murmured.
"Don't you dare."
He smiled and rubbed his face in her hair. "At least I can keep you warm this way."
"I don't think I'll ever be cold again." On a little purr of pleasure, she curled her arms around him. "You're probably going to get all smug when I tell you this, but I don't think I can mind. No one's ever made me feel like this before."
It wasn't smugness he felt, but joy. "There's been no one before you."
She cuddled and laughed. "You're entirely too good at this, Murphy. I imagine there are a lot of women-"
"They were all just practice," he interrupted and made the effort to shift to his elbows so he could look at her. The way she was smiling made him grin. "Now, I can't say there wasn't a time or two I enjoyed the practicing."
"Remind me to punch you later." She laughed when he rolled her over, and over again until they were at the edge of the blanket with her cradled against his chest. "I'm going to have to paint you," she mused, tracing her finger from biceps to pectorals. "I haven't done a nude since art school, but-"
"Darling, when you get me naked, you'll be much too busy for your brushes."
Her grin flashed wickedly. "You're right." She pressed her lips to his, lost herself a moment in the lingering. With a sigh, she rested her head on his chest. "I've never made love outside before."
"You're joking."
She lifted her head again and aimed a bland look. "It's frowned upon in my neighborhood."
Because her skin was chilling, he reached for the spare blanket. "Then it's a night of firsts for you. Your first ceili." He tossed the blanket over her, fussing with the edges until he was satisfied she was covered. "Your first waltz."
"It was the waltz that did it. No, that's wrong." She shook her head, then shifted so that she could frame his face with her hands. "The waltz seduced me. But it was when you sang. When I listened to you I couldn't understand how, why, I'd ever said no."
"I'll have to remember to sing for you often." He lifted a hand, cupped the back of her neck. "Pretty green-eyed Shannon, love of all my lives. Come and kiss me."
He woke her from a light doze just as the eastern sky was pearling. He was sorry to, for he'd loved watching her sleep, the way her lashes lay on her cheek with the light flush beneath them. And he wished there was time for him to love her once again as dawn broke.
But there were obligations and family waiting for him.
"Shannon" Gently, he stroked her cheek kissed it. "Darling, it's nearly morning. The stars are going out."
She stirred, whimpering, and clutched at his hand.
"Why won't you stay? Why? How could you come back to me only to leave again?"
"Ssh." He drew her close, pressed his lips to her brow. "I'm here. Right here. 'Tis only a dream."
"If you loved me enough, you wouldn't go again."
"I do love you. Open your eyes now. You're dreaming."
She followed the sound of his voice, opened her eyes as he'd asked. For a moment she was lost between two worlds, both of which seemed familiar and right.
Dawn, just before dawn, she thought hazily. And the smell of spring. The stones rising up, gray and cold in the waning dark and the feel of her lover's arms hard around her.
"Your horse." She looked around blankly. She should have heard the jingle of its bridle and the impatient stomp of hooves as it waited to ride.
"They're stabled yet." Firmly Murphy cupped her chin and turned her face back to his. "Where are you?"
"I..." She blinked and floated out of the dream. "Murphy?"
His eyes were narrowed on her face, with a hint of frustration in them. "Do you remember what happened then? What did I do to lose you?"
She shook her head. The sense of despair, and the fear, were waning. "I was dreaming, I guess. That's all."
"Tell me what I did."
But she pressed her face to his shoulder, relieved to find it warm and solid. "Just a dream," she insisted. "Is it morning?"
He started to argue, then backed off. "Nearly. I need to get you back to the inn."
"Too soon."
"I'd hold back the sun if I could." He squeezed her once more, then rose to get their clothes.
Cuddled under the blanket, Shannon watched him and felt the little tingles of desire begin to spark again. She sat up, let the blanket pool to her waist. "Murphy?" When he glanced back, she had the satisfaction of seeing his eyes go dark and cloudy. "Make love with me."
"There's nothing I'd like better, but my family's at the house, and there's no telling when one of them..." He trailed off when she rose, slim and beautifully naked. The clothes slipped out of his hands as she walked toward him.