“Celiese?” he called softly, not wanting to frighten her unnecessarily.
She turned quickly, afraid she had offended him by leaving those at the fire. “I do not belong with your men, Mylan, they seem uncomfortable with me nearby. I hope you will not object to my sleeping here by myself.”
“Oh, but I most definitely do.” When he saw she did not understand he reached out to encircle her narrow waist and drew her into his arms. “I have no intention of allowing you to sleep alone, Celiese. I am positive I told you once you would not escape me any time I wanted you. I probably said that more than once, didn’t I?”
Surprised by his sudden interest after he had ignored her all day, she was quick to disagree. “I will never forget the beauty of last night, Mylan, but please, let us end what was between us, for to continue it will only make our inevitable parting that much more painful.”
Mylan stood silent for a long moment, confused by her request when her nearness overwhelmed him as always with an unquenchable desire. Filled with that intoxicating warmth, he lowered his mouth to hers, softly ending any hope she might have had of eluding him. She had always responded to tenderness, to a sweet caress or a gentle kiss, and he was pleased when she let the blanket slip from her fingers to wrap her arms around his neck. He deepened his kiss then, savoring the luscious curves of her body with no more than the slightest pressure from his fingertips, until he felt the need he had created shudder through her slender body with a wave of cresting passion.
He attempted to undress her swiftly, but was so clumsy in the darkness that she pushed his hands away and slipped her gown off over her head without bothering to unfasten the brooches at her shoulders that had caused his predicament. Her pale skin glowed in the moonlight with an iridescent sheen, and he sank to his knees, covering the soft curve of her stomach with light kisses that made her giggle until she begged him to stop. When he would not, she sank down upon the blanket beside him, as lost as he was in the delicious enjoyment they always shared.
Her touch was far more demanding than his as she helped him out of his clothing. He had bathed and put on a fresh tunic but he now tossed it into the bushes with little regard for the garment when he had such a delightful purpose in mind. He wanted Celiese too desperately to play with her emotions now, and he gathered her into a confining embrace, pinning her body beneath his own as her passionate kiss demanded all he could give, her invitation irresistible. It was then he paused, his voice hoarse even in his own ears, as he asked the question he had not dared to ask the previous night.
“When you want me as badly as I want you, why did you refuse to be my wife?”
She could barely hear his question, let alone make a coherent response. The sounds of the night surrounded them with a rhythmic purr as steady as that of a complacent cat. She wanted the splendor of her loving to make such a ridiculous question unnecessary, and she wound her fingers in his curls, pulling his mouth down to hers so he could not speak in any language save that of love.
With a low moan of surrender, he gave up all pretense of caring what Celiese’s answer might be. He knew only that no matter what she thought, she was the only wife he would ever want or have. His mind was filled with her smiling image, her grace as she had moved through the forest at his side, the sparkling light of the sun reflected upon her gently flowing silver hair. No adventure he had ever had compared with the excitement she had brought to his life, and he vowed to do all in his power to recapture the love she had once felt for him, and he had foolishly thrown away.
Exhausted by pleasure, Celiese lay dreaming in Mylan’s arms, a blissful smile lighting her pretty features even in the darkness. The only true peace she had ever known she had found in his embrace, and she loved him more dearly with each passing day. His intelligence and ready wit had always delighted her, and the beauty of his affection captivated her anew. He had asked an unanswerable question, but through the veil of her dreams she could not even recall what it had been.
*
At dawn Mylan dressed hastily, fearing one of his men might come looking for them, but when he walked back to the place where they had built the fire and cooked their supper he found them all still asleep. Criticizing them sharply for such sloth, he woke them. He then returned to the secluded spot he had shared with Celiese and bent down to kiss her cheek sweetly.
“Wake up, my pet. If the sun finds us here lazily enjoying our leisure, someone far less tolerant may discover us as well.”
Holding the blanket modestly to her breast, she greeted him warmly. “It is another fine day for sailing, isn’t it, Mylan? I will dress quickly so as not to delay our departure.”
“First I want an answer to that question you would not answer last night. There is no reason for this voyage to continue if you will but agree to be my wife now.”
Swallowing hard to force back a wave of dread, she shook her head. “What of Estrid, I thought perhaps you were again engaged to her? Was there time for you to tell her goodbye?”
Mylan was tempted to describe Estrid in such precise terms that Celiese would never again question his dislike for the haughty redhead. He had only used the woman as she had used him, and he felt not the least bit of guilt now that they were even. “Estrid is not the issue here. You are. I want to hear your reasons for re
fusing me, if you have any.”
She had never felt so uncomfortable. He was demanding the truth of something she thought too obvious to bear comment. “You do not love me, Mylan. You did not want me when I was your bride; so do not tell me you want me now simply to save yourself the trouble of this voyage. I am sorry I asked you to take me home when Hagen was more than willing to do so.”
His face filling with rage, he got to his feet and backed away. “We will have to continue this discussion tonight. Dress and join us for breakfast as soon as you are able.” With that terse command he was gone, disappearing from view as he made his way back to the beach, but she sat staring after him, completely bewildered by his anger when she had done no more than repeat his own words to him.
*
As Mylan pushed the Surf Falcon to a speed his brothers would have envied, he wished the hours of the day would pass with the swiftness of the wind. Still keeping a watchful eye, he hoped the entire journey would go as well as the first day had. He had not forgotten, as he had feared he had, how to make a wooden craft follow his command, but the Falcon responded to almost as light a touch upon the tiller as his own Raven did, and he was pleased with her, after all. The sail was stretched taut, filled with wind, pushing them toward their destination, and he felt the same ageless thrill his ancestors had known when they had first taken to the sea in search of adventure.
This was an adventure, indeed. Seeing Celiese again standing at the opposite rail, he wondered what caused her pensive expression. She had every reason to sing the entire way, but he could readily discern her mood did not lend itself to expression in song. More confident of his ship on this second day, he called another man to take the tiller and crossed the deck to her side.
“When we are making this voyage simply to please you, why do you appear so downcast?” he shouted in order to be heard above the noise of the brisk wind.
Turning to face him, Celiese was surprised to see his left eye looked no better that day. The deep purple bruise now had a decidedly greenish cast, making it look all the more painful. “I am sorry about your eye,” she offered shyly.
“It is nothing compared to all the other bruises I have, but you did not answer my question. Do you intend to evade them all?” He took hold of the rail to brace himself. Every muscle in his body was painfully protesting the long hours of strenuous labor he had done since the voyage began. He had not thought himself so out of condition, nor would he admit such weakness to her.
His deep tan and lean build gave the appearance of strength, and he had no intention of letting either her or his crew suspect the truth. He had already begun rotating the duty at the tiller, because the men seemed to be a capable lot, but he planned to continue to do his fair share of the work no matter what suffering it brought. The anguish Celiese continually caused him was an entirely different, but no less painful sort, and he waited impatiently for her to respond.
“No,” she admitted with a slight smile, well-aware she had given him no real reply.
Taking her hand firmly in his, Mylan led the impossibly perverse young woman to the stern where they could sit beneath the tent and be sheltered from both the sun and wind while they talked. “It is important that I know the precise location of your home, Celiese, for I don’t want to risk your life, nor the lives of my crew by trespassing upon land belonging to others. I am a trader, but there was no time to gather goods to trade at the end of this voyage, so any of your countrymen we chance to meet will think us raiders and put up a fierce résistance even though we make no threatening advance.”