“There will be . . . anger,” he said, “anger on both sides. Kit . . . My mother will . . .” He looked away.
Dougless could see how torn he was between duty and love. But now she wouldn’t be here to help him. She squeezed his hand. “You will not marry her even after I’m gone?”
He turned blazing eyes toward her. “You would leave me now?”
Tears came again to her eyes as she flung herself against him. “I would never leave you if I had a choice, but I don’t. Not now. Now there is no choice. I will go soon, I know it. I can feel it.”
He kissed her, then smoothed her hair back. “How much time?” he whispered.
“Dawn. No more. Nicholas, I—”
He silenced her with a kiss. “I would rather hours with you than a lifetime with another. Now, no more talk. Come, we will love away these hours.”
He stood up, then pulled her up beside him and led her into the still-running fountain, where he began to lather her with the last of her soft soap. “You left this behind,” he said, smiling at her.
Forget that this is the end, Dougless thought. Forget it. Time must stand still for this one night. “How did you kn-know I showered here?” she asked, her voice stumbling.
“I was one of those who watched.”
She stopped soaping herself, and Nicholas’s hands stilled at her look. “Watched? Who watched me?”
“All,” he said, grinning. “Did you not notice the men’s yawns? They rose most early to hide themselves.”
“Hide!” Her anger was rising. “And you were one of them? You allowed this? You let men spy on me?”
“Were I to have stopped you, I would have halted my own pleasure. It was a dilemma.”
“Dilemma! Why, you—!” She lunged at him.
Nicholas sidestepped, then caught her, pulling her close to him. He forgot about soaping her as he bent his head and began kissing her breasts, the water pouring down on top of them. “I have dreamed of this,” he said, “since my vision.”
“The shower,” she murmured. “The shower.” Her hands were entangled in his hair as his mouth moved lower and lower. He was on his knees before her. “Nicholas, my Nicholas.”
They made love again, as they had done before, in the water. For Nicholas it was a discovery of her body, but for Dougless, she had had weeks of remembering and wanting. Her hands were all over him, memorizing, remembering, finding new places she had not touched or tasted before.
By the time they finished, it was hours later. The water had stopped flowing, and Dougless guessed that whoever was turning the wheel was too tired to continue. She and Nicholas lay in each other’s arms on the sweet grass.
“We have to talk,” she said at last.
“Nay, do not.”
She snuggled closer to him. “I must. I wish with all my heart that I didn’t have to speak, but I must.”
“On the morrow, when the sun touches your hair, you will laugh at this. You are no woman from the future. You are here with me now. You will remain with me for all time.”
“I wish . . .” Her voice grew hoarse and she swallowed. Her hand was roaming over his body, touching him. The last time. The last time. “Nicholas, please,” she said. “Listen to me.”
“Aye, I will listen, then I will love you again.”
“When you left before, no one remembered you. It was as though you hadn’t existed. It was so horrible for me.” She buried her face in his shoulder. “You had come and gone, but no one remembered. It was as though I’d made you up.”
“I am most forgettable.”
She raised on her elbow to look at him, to touch his beard, his cheek, to caress his eyebrows, to kiss his eyelids. “I will never forget you.”
“Nor I, you.” He lifted a bit to kiss her lips, but when he wanted more, Dougless pulled away.
“The same may happen when I leave. I want you to be prepared if no one remembers me. Don’t . . . I don’t know what to say . . . Don’t make yourself crazy trying to make them remember.”