Sadie took his fisted left hand and set it over the spot on his thigh where he’d stitched up the wound from the moose. “There. See? It’s gone,” she said, looking up at his face.
He wasn’t looking at his thigh. He was staring at her. Sadie gave him a huge smile, straightened, wrapped her arms around his neck again, and kissed him soundly on the mouth.
“I truly am sorry we died, Morgan,” she whispered. “But we’re together, my love.” She rained kisses over his face as she spoke. “I was so afraid I’d lost you forever.”
Sadie felt him reach down and pull his pants back up before his arms came around her again. Morgan swept her off her feet and carried her back to her spot by the pool. He set her down and then sat beside her, unbuttoning his shirt, shrugging out of it and handing it to her.
“Put this on, lass,” he said softly, his gaze quickly roaming over her naked body before he turned his head and looked out over the pool.
“I wish you’d take your clothes off instead,” she said, disgruntled but doing as he asked. She slipped into the shirt and buttoned it up to her neck but stopped at the feel of something dangling over her collarbone.
Sadie lifted the leather cord and gasped, sending her gaze to Morgan’s chest. “This is the cord you wear.” She tucked her chin and pulled the leather out to see better, feeling for the wood that should have been there. “Oh, no. I lost the cherrywood knot that was on it.”
She turned, frantically searching the ground for the wood. Morgan grabbed her by the shoulders, then leaned them both over until he was lying on top of her. He brushed the hair back from her face.
“We’re not dead, Mercedes,” he said, his mouth mere inches from hers, his eyes dark and unreadable as he stared at her. “We are both very much alive.”
Sadie blinked at him, pressing her head into the ground to focus better on his face.
“We… we can’t be, Morgan. I don’t have any scars. And neither do you.”
“You’re alive, Mercedes.”
“But I remember the bullet. The pain. I remember falling against you. I was shot, Morgan. I… I died.”
He slowly nodded his head, his eyes never leaving hers. “Aye, lass, you did die,” he whispered, bringing one hand up to finger the leather cord on her neck. “But the old priest’s magic brought you back to me.”
“M-magic?”
He nodded again. “Aye.” He let go of the leather and waved at the air around them.
“This place, the mist, the very water that flows from the cliff. It’s special, Mercedes. It comes from a pond where thedrùidh’s staff was thrown two years ago.”
“D-drùidh?”
Sadie pushed at his chest, struggling to get up. He rolled off and sat up as she scrambled to her feet and turned to stare down at him.
“What are you saying?” she whispered, fighting the fear that was rising inside her. She took a step back. “Are you… are you saying you’re a… a witch or something? A warlock?”
He shook his head and then quickly stood.
She took another step back.
“I’m only a man, Mercedes,” he said, keeping his distance. “I know nothing of magic.”
“Then how… ” She fingered the leather cord at her throat, swallowing the lump that had lodged there. “Then how did you heal me?” she finished on a dis-believing squeak.
He nodded in the direction of her neck. “The priest’s gift,” he said. “The cherrywood burl and this water healed you,” he told her, waving at the pool behind her.
Sadie darted a cautious look at the water, turning just enough so that she could see it without losing sight of Morgan.
“Wh-where is the burl now?”
He waved his hand again. “Gone. Dissolved. The magic was spent saving your life.”
Sadie dropped her chin and toyed with the button on Morgan’s shirt that she wore. What he was saying was fantastical. But, more important, why was he saying it?
Could he not accept that they’d died?
“Morgan,” she said, looking at him, taking a small step closer, and holding out her right hand, palm up. “Do you see this?” she asked. “The scars are gone. And that’s not possible. There’s no such thing as the kind of magic you’re talking about. A person can’t get shot and then just… just heal. And eight-year-old scars can’t disappear as if they never existed.”
“Then explain to me what has happened,” he softly demanded, his eyes now piercing points of solid green flint.
“We died. Both of us, or you wouldn’t be here with me now. That cut on your leg wouldn’t be gone. It’s the only logical explanation, Morgan. We’re dead.” She suddenly smiled. “And we’ve landed in heaven.”
He took a step toward her. “Mercedes.”
Sadie beat him to it. She ran and jumped into his arms, laughing up at him. “And we’re going to make love now, husband, before God realizes his mistake and kicks us out of here,” she finished, planting her mouth on his. She pulled him down to the ground until she was sitting and straddling his waist.
Morgan let out a sigh that all but filled her lungs and settled his hands under his head.
“That still might happen,” he said, smiling up at her, only to sober suddenly as he softly feathered a trembling finger across her cheek. “I was so afraid I’d lost you, wife,” he whispered.
Sadie covered his hand on her face. “Me, too. I love you so much, Morgan. I couldn’t live without you.” She shot him a smile. “I couldn’t die without you, either.”
She leaned down and kissed the frown on his forehead. She stretched out full-length on top of him and wiggled until her nose was even with his beautifully naked chest, grinning again when she heard him moan.
Sadie traced circles with her fingertip through the furry mat of hair covering his chest.
She had a fair amount of area to cover and let it tickle her palm as she ran a lazy path over his muscles. She stopped and explored a nipple, heard him moan again, and ran her tongue over the silky-smooth circle. Hair tickled her lips as she gently suckled, and Morgan sat bolt upright and held her away.
Sadie smiled at his ferocious scowl, patting the spot she’d just licked.
“I promise to let you do the same to me in a minute,” she told him. “But I want my wicked way with you first.”
“I’ll disgrace myself,” he said through gritted teeth.
She pushed him back and leaned over him again, her nose inches from his. “We’ve got an eternity to practice, husband,” she said, sitting up and unbuttoning her shirt.
She watched his eyes go from her face to her breasts, and his scowl relaxed. He set his hands behind his head again as she slid the shirt off her shoulders and let it fall to her back.
Sadie cupped her breasts, pushing them together as she leaned forward and let them dangle over his chest. She slowly brushed them back and forth, only to find that now she was the one building with a tension that started in the pit of her stomach and spiraled outward and down to the very center of her femininity.
Sweat broke out on Sadie’s forehead. She felt flushed and wet between her thighs, and she couldn’t seem to stop shaking with the need to feel Morgan inside her.
His hands came to her breasts, replacing hers that were now digging into his shoulders.
He gently fondled her, setting her completely on fire. She may have cried out, Sadie wasn’t sure, but she did know that she couldn’t make her hips stop moving against him.
His hands left her breasts but were quickly replaced by his mouth. Sadie shouted then, louder than the roar of the waterfall. Morgan lifted her and pushed off his pants, and suddenly there was nothing between her and her husband’s rock-hard erection.
Searing heat pushed against the folds of her womanhood, and Morgan’s strong hands grabbed her hips and lifted, settling her more intimately onto him.
Sadie felt herself stretching, accepting, taking Morgan inside. She moaned this time, loud and deep and keening, when she felt his mouth cover her breast. He used his hands on her hips to set them into a rhythm, suckled her nipple until she thought she was going to explode.