The pleasure that had still been reverberating through her body came back with a force that stunned her. She gasped, twining her arms about his neck, wrapping her legs about his waist to bring him even deeper inside her.
“My God, you’re incredible,” he growled. He pumped in and out of her, his breath hot against her neck, the feel of him fully clothed while she wore nothing but a scrap of silk seemed erotic in a way she had never thought possible.
They moved together, the pleasure climbing, her blood rushing in her ears. Suddenly there was a rapping against her bedroom door.
“Your Graces, your breakfast,” Veronica called from the other side of the panel.
“Leave the bloody food by the door,” Ash growled. Then, before Bronwyn could think to understand what had just occurred, he slipped a hand between their bodies, his fingers finding her, mimicking the movements she had performed on herself just minutes ago. Her body exploded in sensation just as his mouth claimed her own, swallowing her cry of completion.
Chapter 12
In all his life, Ash could not recall a time he had been more content.
Holding out a hand for Bronwyn to grasp, he helped her across several flat stones that spanned a slow-moving river. They had spent the day out of doors, leisurely riding over Synne’s softly rolling hills, walking through shady groves. The majority of their time had been spent in silence. He’d expected something of the sort to be highly uncomfortable. He’d never spent time with anyone who was content with a lack of conversation.
Yet with Bronwyn, it felt as natural as breathing.
So much so that, when it had come time to return to the house for luncheon, he’d been loath to put an end to their time together. And so he’d suggested a picnic in a place of her choosing, an idea she’d seemed equally eager for.
She pointed up the slight incline as they reached the far side of the river. “It’s just up that rise,” she said, her voice quiet.
Shifting the picnic basket they’d fetched from Caulnedy more securely in his grasp, he held out his free arm to her as they took the path up. “What did you say this place was again?”
“The Elven Pools. There is quite a bit of local lore regarding the pools, having to do with the Viking invasion and a romance between a Norseman and the namesake of the Isle, an Anglo-Saxon maiden named Synne.” She smiled up at him, a wicked gleam in her eye. “Apparently the brute spied on her while she was bathing naked.”
He raised a brow, fighting an amused smile of his own. “That is quite a scandalous tale.”
“Oh, very scandalous.” Her eyes glittered with mischief behind her spectacles. “Especially as she stabbed him, nearly killing him in the process.”
He let out a bark of laughter at that, startling a nearby bird from the bushes. “Not a romance, then.”
“Oh, no. It is a romance. By all accounts they did fall in love. Eventually. But that, of course, is not what draws me to the place.”
“Oh no?” he murmured, taking in the growing excitement in her gaze. “What is it that you like about these famed Elven Pools?”
She didn’t answer, merely dragged him more swiftly up the path. And then they crested the hill, and his question was answered for him.
“Oh,” was all he could think to say.
She gave a small chuckle. “Oh, indeed,” she murmured.
But in that moment he couldn’t care less that she was laughing at his reaction. He had never in his life seen a place like this one.
The thick woods they had meandered through had opened up, the land turning craggy and seemingly unforgiving. Yet there was movement and life. Water had carved pools out of the rock, wearing bowls into the stone with dozens of trickling waterfalls that filled the air with their music. Each basin grew in size the farther down the hill they were, one after the other, each one clear and colorful as stained glass, like the holiest of nature’s churches. How was it that such colors could exist? Azure and emerald and an indigo bordering on amethyst, all mingling together, like brilliant watercolors splashed across a water-soaked page. And the color that stood out to him the most, a soothing turquoise, the same color as Bronwyn’s eyes.
“It’s…it’s…”
“Yes.” He heard the smile in her voice. “But to witness the true beauty of the place, you have to look closer.”
She started off down the incline, a path paved in flat shale steps, her stride almost eager. Bemused, he followed, coming up beside her as she stopped at the edge of the largest pool.
“Most visit and see a beautiful landscape,” she said, her voice quiet as she looked out over the water. “It’s a place they come to on occasion, to swim or lounge about, and then they are gone. All without seeing the lives lived within the scope of the pools.” Here she pointed.
He frowned, not having a single clue what she was referring to. Nevertheless, he followed her finger. Then he saw it, a small, brilliantly blue creature, darting across the top of the water.
“Coenagrion puella,” she said, awe plain in her voice. “The azure damselfly. They’re quite common, of course.” She smiled, a kind of peace falling across her features. “But that does not make them any less incredible.”
He could not take his eyes from her. The transformation that came over her as she observed the creature stunned him. Gone was the faintly cautious look that always seemed present. Instead, her face was relaxed, happy even. It was an expression that turned her from quietly beautiful to stunning. He felt, quite thoroughly, as if he had been hit by a bolt of lightning.