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die with him, die with him in truth if they could not be together.

She closed her eyes and caught the rhythm, wondering briefly if the bed was banging against the wall and telling the whole world what they were doing. She didn't care. She didn't care at all. The world could go hang.

The inner fire burst into flame again, and as she stiffened with pleasure she sensed him surrender, too.

She prayed it was as wonderful.

Or better. With such magnificence, it was easy to be generous. Her pleasure was not as intense this time but it ran deeper and seared her mind for delicious moments, leaving her blank, limp, and infinitely, perfectly satisfied.

As he moved off her, she murmured, hoping it sounded as appreciative as she felt. Then she opened her eyes to see him collapsed back on his pillow. Her smile widened. "You look gorgeously sweaty and rumpled."

He laughed, quietly but fully. "Even I cannot make love with chilly hauteur."

"With a Malloren, are not all things possible?" She'd learned it was his family's unofficial motto. His unofficial motto.

He laughed again, rolling his head to look at her. Truly a few days ago she never could have imagined him so relaxed. "I suppose I could have sex with chilly hauteur if I had to," he said, "but it would not be making love." He pulled her to him for a kiss. "And therefore, it could never be with you."

Love?

She caught it to her like a precious treasure, but she wouldn't ask if he truly meant it. She didn't know if it would be a blessing or a curse.

She knew, whichever it was, it dwelt in her. She loved him, as much for his virtues and their conversation as for the passion. But the passion had completed the magic circle.

She drew back to study his dark beauty, brushing damp hair off his high brow. I love you, Bey Malloren. Impossible words, for they would shatter the agreement they had here tonight.

No tomorrows.

But they had made love. Indeed they had. Fully and completely. The love they had made here tonight had to exist somewhere in the world. It would linger in her, and in him, changing everything.

But pray God, not as a child.

He echoed her action, brushing hair off her cheek, then kissing her again, lingeringly.

On impulse, she slid the large ring off her first finger - it happened to be a sapphire and valuable, but that was not the point. She took his left hand and it fit onto his ring finger.

With this ring, she thought, but did not say it.

He looked down at the blue stone, then kissed her one naked finger, looking at her with troubled eyes. In one sense, she knew, she shouldn't have done that, but in all other senses it was completely right.

Then he rolled out of bed, dampened a cloth on the wash-stand, and returned to wash her belly. She looked down, suddenly understanding.

"I wish you hadn't."

"Far safer."

He was right. To spill his seed on her instead of inside was an extra level of safety. But she wished he hadn't.

"Not in chilly hauteur," she said, "but mind still in control."

He returned to the bed, and pulled her into his arms. "Stop complaining. It wasn't what I wanted, either."

She snuggled up against him. "If I wasn't so... fulfilled at this moment, I could scream at fate."

His hand played in the hair at her nape. "Surrender to the moment, love. Tomorrow is soon enough for screaming."

That word "love" again, but he was resolved, even so. That this would be all. She couldn't complain, for it had always been clear, but she had hoped. Just a little.

They couldn't marry, but they could be lovers if they were very careful. No. She knew it would be impossible to avoid a child forever...

Rothgar held her, watching sleep creep over her. She looked like a weary child, her curls tangled, her lips parted a little, her lashes soft on her rounded cheeks. It had been a long, arduous day full of tension and danger, and now at last she could rest.

He had given her that.

Pray God he had not given her more.

They should be safe.

Once he was sure she was deeply asleep, he eased her out of his arms and onto her pillow, but rested there, studying her. At the different angle she still looked young, but now he could see her firm chin. The body he'd tangled with had not been childish at all, but that of an active, strong woman.

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