Unable, it seemed, to break from the hungry, greedy exchange, by stages, they made their way to the bed, divesting each other of their clothes as they went.
They fell on the silken coverlet in a tangle of limbs and searching hands. Hands intent on using stroking caresses to impress on the other the reverence and devotion that had flowered in their hearts.
Need built, and passion swirled about them.
Desire sharpened to a whip and drove them on.
They came together on a gasp and a cry, fusing their bodies with one aim in both their minds.
To hold, to possess—above all, to love.
There were no reins capable of holding them—they plunged into the heat and the fire and let the conflagration have them, let the flames of a passionate love too searing to deny envelop and consume them.
Fast, hard, they raced to the peak and, with an abandon beyond any either had ever known, flung themselves from its pinnacle.
Into shattering pleasure and scintillating joy.
Into ecstasy so far-reaching and profound it metaphorically stopped their thundering hearts.
Slowly, the starburst of their senses faded, and they fell.
Into an abyss of bliss, fathoms deep.
Untold minutes later, drifting in the calm in the wake of their storm, with her eyes closed, Stacie lay slumped by Frederick’s side and, with her head resting against his chest, listened to the steady thud of his heart.
She adored moments like this—held them close in her mind—those times when he was with her, but not aware, and she didn’t have to hide…
What she felt for him.
How long had she been in love with him?
Looking back, she couldn’t say. Love had crept into her quietly, making no fuss, doing nothing to draw her attention while it found its place and put down roots.
Her love for him was now an intrinsic part of her.
She couldn’t rip it out, couldn’t even pretend it wasn’t there—not when it had grown to possess power enough to rule her.
And it had.
Oh yes, it has.
She’d always recognized that love was a protective emotion—the events of the day, the threats to him, were what had brought it rising so strongly to the surface that she couldn’t overlook it, couldn’t mistake it or doubt its existence. Couldn’t deny that love now very definitely lived in her.
Has he seen it?
She’d learned that he was observant and perceptive—and when it came to her, very much so on both counts. If he’d seen and correctly identified what she now felt for him…she doubted it would bother him. He might even be pleased in a smug male way that his wife’s heart as well as her body was his.
Regardless, what did her loving him mean for them?
She’d never imagined falling in love herself. While she’d made him promise not to fall in love with her, she hadn’t made any counterstipulation about not falling in love with him. It hadn’t occurred to her to do so.
Because it isn’t necessary.
That understanding rose through her, and she fell on it with relief. Of course. Her loving him meant she would protect him, including from herself, at least as far as she was able. Her loving him was a positive development she hadn’t imagined might come to be, but it had, and for that, she could only be grateful.
As had always been the case, the only true threat to him and their marriage lay in him falling in love with her.
Admittedly, he was protective of her, but men of his ilk were innately protective of their ladies and possessive, too; neither protectiveness nor possessiveness necessarily indicated love on his part, and thus far, he’d shown no sign of deviating from his word. She felt confident she could trust him on that; men like him didn’t seek to fall in love when they didn’t need to.