"Hugh," she gasped out when he withdrew his finger and returned with two, preparing her, thrusting deep just as she arched up—

He froze. Staring down at her in confusion, he said in a strangled tone, "Jane? You're a virgin?"

Her eyes flickered open at his tone, and she bit her lip guiltily. "I-I was going to tell you."

He removed his fingers, shaking over what he'd been about to do. He'd been about to hurt her—hadwanted to—never knowing how devastating it would be. "Why did you no' tell me?"

"I thought you'd be less likely to make love to me."

"You thought right!" His eyes narrowed. "But you and Bidworth?"

"Never even got close."

His relief staggered him, but then he realized that now there was no way he could have her. Just as he was about to pull away, she grabbed his hips, holding him to her.

"Hugh, I wantyou to show me this, only you. I've waited so long, and I know you'll make this incredible for my first time."

She couldn't have said anything more convincing, because he knew she was right. He'd imagined taking her virginity countless times, envisioned the care he would take to spare her pain if he could. He would do everything in his power to pleasure her. Would another man be able to give her what Hugh was dying to?

Chapter Forty

"I will," Hugh vowed, returning his fingers to her. "I want tae show you this. And that means readying you." He began to tease and stroke her flesh again, making her melt for him, until she was on the verge of release. Mercilessly, he kept her just on the edge as he delved and rubbed, over and over.

She moaned with need, ready to beg. "Hugh, I'm ready!" she cried. "I ache so much inside…please…"

He was so gorgeous in the moonlight—his eyes were burning with intent, with possession. She swept her palms over his damp chest, reveling in the way the muscles in his torso flexed under her hands.

At last, he took his shaft and positioned it, clenching his jaw when the head met her entrance."So hot…so wet." His lips were parted, his breaths ragged. "It's everything I can do no' to come right now." When he began working the head inside her, she felt it stretching her—no matter how much he'd prepared her, the fit was still tight. "Tell me," he rasped, feeding his length into her, "tell me what you meant this afternoon, Sìne."

By the time he met the barrier, she was trembling, clutching his shoulders, and he was sweating with the obvious effort to go slow. He gazed down at her, dark eyes questioning.

"I'm yours," she whispered. "To take." She'd never been more certain of anything in her life.

He groaned, thrusting deep. She felt the tearing, hissing in a breath just as he groaned, "Sotight ." He shuddered, but remained still inside her as he gently smoothed her hair back from her forehead. "I dinna want to cause you pain."

"No, I knew there'd be"—she tried to conceal a wince—"a bit of hurting."

Even with this discomfort, the feeling of closeness awed her. This was worth the wait a thousand times over. She could feel him throbbing inside her, could see his anguished expression, but somehow he didn't move, wanting to spare her pain, wanting to please her.

She gazed up at him and couldn't hold back the words: "I…love you."

"What did you say?" he bit out, battling the frantic need to shove his hips at her.

"I always have."

Her words made him wonder if he was dreaming this entire scenario—this was exactly as he would imagine. Now, when he was buried so deeply inside her, the need arose to say the words that would bind her to him—a vow of self, spoken in the old language. Yet he couldn't. He didn't have that right.

Instead, he bent down and kissed her, with everything he felt for her, until she was panting. Her hands went from holding on to his shoulders, as though for dear life, to exploring touches over his body. When she tentatively rolled her hips, he withdrew, then eased back inside her, determined to make this good for her.Concentrate. Slowly in…easing out. Again.

He had to stop wondering why she had chosen to give this gift tohim —tolove him. He drew back to study her face. "Does it still hurt, Sìne?" he asked, rocking against her.

Her eyes fluttered open with a look of wonder. "N-no, not anymore," she murmured. "That feels so perfect…." She leaned up to press her wet little kisses on his chest, driving him mad. "Does it for you?"

In answer, he shuddered again and couldn't help stirring himself in her, savoring all her wetness around him. When he thrust again, her nipples were hard points goading his chest. He bent to lick them, and she began meeting every thrust.

As soon as he slipped his thumb down between them and rubbed, she cried, "I'm about to…You're making me…Oh, God,promise you'll do this again to me. Tonight." She took his face in both of her hands. "Promise,Hugh ." His name became a cry as she climaxed.

Though he fought it, had even stopped thrusting, her hungry body demanded, her sex squeezing him, tight as a fist. He couldn't hold his seed. Defeated, he bucked between her thighs with all his strength, yelling to the sky. He came with a violent force, shuddering with each fierce pumping inside her.

As he leaned against her, heart thundering against hers, he said hoarsely, "You love me?"

Back in his bed, she curled against him, her breaths light on his chest, her body warm and soft with sleep. But Hugh was wide awake, turning thoughts over and over in his mind.

Tonight, he had dared to put his rough hands on her delicate body—his hands, which had killed so many times before. He'd dared to take her virginity—had been about to do it in a crazed moment of anger. He'd almost hurt her without measure.

Yet hehadn't .

The only dire thing he'd done was to give in when she'd wanted him four more times. If he was destined to bring her pain, then why had she told him that what they'd done hadawed her?

He wondered where the guilt was. He'd expected to be disgusted with his weakness; instead he felt alive, energized, optimistic. His body was relaxed, his muscles at ease. Throughout the night, she'd made him feel like the lad he'd been when he'd seen her last. He wanted more of that feeling.

Tonight, he'd made her his, and it had felt like it was hisright to do so.

Because she wants me, too.She'dalways wanted him. Before she'd slept, she confided to him about her feelings, and how long she'd struggled with them. The more she revealed, the more astounded he'd become.

She'd told him she compared all men to him—and found them all lacking. Compared tohim . He pulled her closer with the crook of his arm. He could scarcely credit it, but knew she told the truth.

What if I just tell her about the curse?he thought again. She was intelligent. He respected her ideas and admired the way her mind worked. Maybe between the two of them, they could figure out a way.

Tomorrow, then. It would be done.

The next morning, Jane stretched with a grin on her face, feeling sore and well-loved. She was also morein love than she'd ever been. Last night had been everything she'd always dreamed it would be—better than.

Her only regret was that they hadn't been spending the last ten years of their lives like this. But as long as they spent the rest of them this way, she was mollified.

Her eyes slid open, and she found Hugh was dressed in pants, seated on the edge of the bed. She took one look at his face and knew.

"Oh, dear God," she murmured. "I'm a regret."

"It's no' like that, Jane—"

"Then tell me you don't regret making love to me."

He raked his fingers through his tousled hair. "It's more complicated than that."