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smothered it. This was not just any man. "I'm yours," she said, and closed her eyes.

She kept them closed, living by her other senses. Touch, touch above all. Those hands, firm and gentle upon her as she'd dreamed they would be, sensitive fingers seeming to know just what would pleasure her best. His mouth soft, hard, dry, wet, hot - but then blowing, cold.

Hearing. The rustle of sheets as they moved together, breath close to her ear, the thick, deep pounding of her blood. His voice, sometimes soothing, sometimes teasing, sometimes merely humming pleasure as she hummed back.

Smell. Breeze-fresh sheets, crushed flowers, and him. His smell beneath a trace of the soap with which he'd washed. Her own soft perfume turning wicked. A mounting, spicy scent from both of them.

Taste. His skin against her questing lips, against her tongue, against her open mouth which seemed to hunger for him. His mouth, powerful against hers stirring...

She shuddered, clutching closer. Knowing. She'd given herself the release often, but this was different. Their coiled bodies made it different, engaging every part of her so she felt whirled into fire, spiraling up and out...

Rothgar watched her melt by candlelight, her lovely body glowing and sinuous with newfound pleasure and desire. It called him almost to will-break, assailing him with slick satiny flesh, soft murmuring sounds, and perfume of flowers and Diana.

Controlling every instinct, he gave her, as perfectly as he knew how, what she longed for. And only what she had agreed to.

She could be his. She would not resist now, he knew, likely would not object later, and it would be as safe as humankind could make it -

He blocked such thoughts, and slid his fingers between her legs again, into hot, moist readiness...

That could be his -

No.

Shifting, he pushed his fingers deep inside, blocking how it would feel if his erection was easing into her tight, hot vagina. Shuddering, he sweated with that need, but gloried in her responses.

She was lost in the senses now. She arched and he drank her soft cry in a kiss, moving inside her and against her. He returned to her lovely breasts to drive himself mad driving her to delirium.

Her arms locked tight around him as her body went taut. He drowned in the sounds of a woman's frantic pleasure, and murmured as she convulsed with it - encouraging words, soothing words, loving words.

Loving words he hoped she would never remember.

Loving words he hoped he could forget.

He gave her his lips when she quested for them, surrendering himself to a brief moment of deepest agonized desire.

Diana came to herself again in the kiss, and broke free to look up at him. "I was wrong. I want it all. Now."

He shook his head and moved away, but she snared arms and legs around to hold him. "I am not beyond reason. This is only now, isn't it? No tomorrows. Because of what it is. This. Ours. Like our kiss."

She felt the tremor running through him like fine music, and saw in the guttering candlelight the sheen of sweat on his flesh. "No tomorrows," he agreed. "This is impossible short of eternity."

"And we cannot have eternity." She wanted to weep, to fight, but she wasn't sure he was wrong. All they could be certain of was now.

"Make love to me, Bey," she said, doing her best to pull him back down skin to skin. "Completely. Now. I could not live with the regrets. Now. Please."

He gave way suddenly, as if something had snapped like the drummer boy's arm. He moved between her legs, supporting himself on one arm, as he guided himself carefully into her.

She closed her eyes to feel, only feel, as the fierce hardness of him filled her.

Yes. Oh yes.

Like a warm wave, perfection swept over her. A perfection of the moment that said that this was meant to be. Two halves joined. The perfect key in the perfect lock.

She flexed her hips to make the union complete, braced for pain, ready to accept it without complaint, but then he was deep inside, filling her to satisfaction. Her eyes flew open to see his, dark and smiling.

"All that riding, I suspect," he said.

"You don't mind?" She herself felt slightly appalled.

"Would I want to give you pain at a moment like this? Don't disappoint me by being conventional, Diana. Come, let us die together." He pulled almost all the way out, then thrust in again.

La petite mort.

Oh yes. She, who'd never been romantic, wanted to