In one quick move, he was out of the basin, she was in his arms, and they were on the soft bed again.
“Anoushka,” he growled, catching hold of her hands, tangling his fingers with hers, and when he thrust into her, she wrapped herself around him and her last thought, before her orgasm swept her away, was that this man, this moment, this joining of body and soul, was the very purpose of life.
* * *
She came awake slowly, yawning, stretching, feeling warm and snug in a cocoon of soft wool blankets.
A wonderful aroma filled the air.
Something spicy. Cinnamon. Nutmeg. Apple…
“Hey.”
She blinked and rolled onto her side.
Declan was squatting beside her. He had on a black T-shirt and shorts.
“Hey yourself,” she murmured. “How long did I sleep?”
“Less than an hour.”
“Mmm.” She stretched again. “Feels longer than that.” She wiggled her nose. “What’s that amazing smell?”
“It’s dinner, princess.” He leaned in and gave her a tender kiss. “I washed our stuff and hung it to dry, and I have a clean shirt for you.” A quick, sexy smile curved his lips. “Unless you’d rather go casual.”
“Casual?”
“Uh huh.” He kissed her again. “As in, clothing optional.”
Annie laughed and sat up. “The clean shirt sounds good.”
He sighed. “Difficult woman,” he said, and handed her a shirt that was a twin of his.
She pulled it on and got to her feet. The shirt hung halfway down her thighs. No pants was casual enough. In fact, knowing she was naked beneath the shirt put a knot of warmth low in her belly. Her hair was still damp; she ran her fingers through it and let it settle against her shoulders.
She felt absolutely wonderful.
And Declan—Declan was wonderful. He’d not only washed their clothes, he’d made dinner and set the table with spoons, earthenware bowls and mugs, and in the center, a jug filled with what looked like pussy willows.
Annie sat in one of the two chairs. “Very nice.”
Declan grinned as he lifted a big pot from the fireplace and brought it to the table. “Only the best for the Presidential Suite.”
“Mmm. Smells good.”
“Broiled steaks and baked potatoes always smell good.” He laughed at the look on her face. “It’s oatmeal with spices and brown sugar tossed in. And some dried apple slices. We’ll have to leave our anonymous host a thank you note along with the number of my credit card.”
Annie looked at him. “Are you sure he won’t, you know, drop in on us?”
Dec filled both bowls, and then sat down across from her.
“Based on the dust, the super-clean hearth, I don’t think anyone’s used this place for months. It might be abandoned. Even if it isn’t, nobody who’s moving sheep up from a valley is going to do it for at least another few weeks. Go on, honey. Dig in.”
She spooned up some of the oatmeal, put it in her mouth and sighed with pleasure.
“Declan Sanchez! You’ve been holding out on me. I never knew you could cook.”
“Not true! Have you forgotten my beef empanadas? My General Tso’s chicken? How about my specialty, pizza with garlic and pepperoni?”