The damned man was going to sleep!
“Cuchulainn, I want to explain-” she began, but he cut her off.
“There’s no need,” he said without opening his eyes. “We’re both tired. It’s late. Tomorrow will be a long, hard day. Get some sleep, Brighid. We can talk later.”
And just like that he went to sleep. She thought seriously about throwing something at him-something heavy like a piece of the wood he’d spent such a damned long time collecting. Or, more satisfyingly, maybe she should kick him. Hard.
Eventually her Huntress nature took over and she did neither. The truth was that he’d been right. Tomorrow would be a long, grueling day and she needed to sleep. Since he hadn’t left her, and apparently he wasn’t planning to any time in the near future, they could discuss what had happened between them later. So she went back to her own place near the fire-not far from where her husband slept-and settled down for the night. She knew she wouldn’t have any trouble sleeping. A Huntress was accustomed to shutting off the world and catching sleep when and where she could. Brighid blocked out the frustration and confusion in her mind, closed her eyes, and let the weariness of the day pull her into darkness.
In her dream the blackness of sleep swirled, lightened and turned to fog. The fog brushed against her skin, caressing her nerve endings awake as it pulsed against the naked flesh of her torso. Like a knowing lover, it teased her breasts, making her nipples harden and ache. She moaned and arched restlessly against the mist…and the dreamy fog solidified and became lips and tongue and mouth. Her arms automatically wrapped around her lover. Even before she could actually see him she recognized the feel of Cuchulainn and somewhere in her sleeping mind she was surprised that he already felt so familiar against her body. His head lifted from her breasts and he smiled slowly.
“Where have you taken us now?” he asked.
“I don’t know. I’m dreaming.”
“Yes you are.” His eyes blazed. “I’ve come to your dreams before, only this time I won’t keep my hands from you,” he said fiercely. “Whatever happens when we wake, in your dreams I will touch you and hold you and make you my own.”
Then his mouth was on hers, insistent and hot. She gave herself over to him, letting him tease and nip her tongue while his hands busied themselves at her breasts. She moaned into his mouth, needing the touch and taste of him. She was sleeping-it was only a dream-so there was no reason to hold to the inhibitions and fears of the waking world. Embracing the abandon of the erotic dream she let her hands search his body, finding the hard heat of him that lengthened under her touch.
Tell him…the soft voice whispered through her mind. Speak your heart to him.
“Cuchulainn,” she said against his lips. “I want you. I want all of you. Please know that.”
He cupped her face in his hands and smiled. “You have me, my beautiful Huntress. All of me.”
When he kissed her again it was as if she melted into him. They were no longer centaur and man-they were only sensation and spirit-and the shock and glory of the joining sizzled through her with such an intensity that she woke, shivering with emotion in the aftermath of pleasure.
Her eyes instantly found Cuchulainn. He still lay on his side, facing the fire, just as he had been when she’d fallen asleep. She couldn’t see his face, but his breathing was deep and regular. She wanted to touch him, wanted to wake him, but instead she resettled herself and closed her eyes.
Tomorrow night will be different, she promised herself.
Before she fell asleep her last thought was that she hoped he would come to her dreams again-even if who he was in them was only a piece of her own imagination.
Cuchulainn waited until he heard her breathing shift, telling him that she had fallen back to sleep. Then he rolled over so that he could look at her. They’d awakened at the same time.
By the Goddess, the dream had shaken him! When he’d materialized from the mist all he’d been able to see of her was her naked torso. The silver curtain of her hair had been falling around her shoulders parting only to expose the sensitive nipples of her breasts that drew his touch…his mouth. It had seemed so easy, so right, to take her in his arms. And she’d touched him-all of him. His body felt hard and heavy at the remembrance. Then in the midst of the wet heat of passion he’d heard the woman’s voice asking Brighid to speak her heart to him, and the Huntress had told him of her desire. When he kissed her it had been like she was drinking in his soul again-only this time the experience had been intensely physical. The jolt of his orgasm had awakened him-at the same instant he’d heard Brighid gasp and awaken.
Was it possible they had experienced the same dream? Had their souls truly met in that nebulous realm of sleep? Had she really given herself to him?
Impossible…
CHAPTER FORTY
The smell of frying pork had her mouth watering before she’d rubbed the sleep from her eyes. The sky was just lightening with predawn and the air was already warming with the coming of morning. Cuchulainn’s back was to her as he bent over the fire, stirring the sizzling meat. She got up, shook herself, and stretched. As she joined him she noticed the gelding was already saddled, and that, except for the few cooking utensils, everything was packed and ready to go.
“Good morning,” he said without looking at her.
“Good morning. I can’t believe I slept through you packing up and making breakfast.”
He glanced up at her and gave her a little half smile, which held only the shadow of his usual warmth. His tone was carefully neutral. “You didn’t move. I hope you slept as well as it seemed you did.”
She looked into his eyes, remembering the erotic dream and what had prefaced it.
“I slept well,” was all she said.
“Good,” he said briskly. Cu turned back to the fire and forked the pork between two slabs of bread and cheese, which he handed to her. “Do you mind eating as we travel? I think we should move from dawn to dusk today. We really didn’t get a full day in yesterday.”
“I agree,” she said.
“Good,” he repeated. Setting his sandwich on the one saddlebag he’d left unpacked, he put out the campfire.
“Cuchulainn?”
He gave her a quick look over his shoulder.
“Is it going to be this awkward between us all day?” she asked.
His lips twitched. “Looks like it might be.”
“Is there anything I can do to change that right now?”
“Probably not,” he said, and turned back to the fire.
She sighed. It wasn’t even full light and it already felt like it had been a long day. And that feeling held through the endless hours of the morning and then midday. At least the grueling pace she forced herself to set left little opportunity for conversation, though she would have welcomed the respite of talking with him. It was usually so easy between them-ironic that now they were mated everything felt so complicated.
The silence between them did give her time to think. The dream stayed with her, so that her thoughts of Cuchulainn were tinged with an erotic quality, which she knew was silly and unrealistic. Then she’d remember how his hard body had felt against her and the explosion of sensation that had flooded her dream…
“We’ll stop here and I’ll switch mounts. The gelding is played out.” Cuchulainn’s deep voice carried above the pound of hooves.
She blinked, rousing herself from the trancelike state induced by endless travel. The sun was just beginning its descent toward the ocean, and the little village they were approaching looked cheerful and welcoming in the bright afternoon light.