Matt slid back inside her with maddening slowness, watching her face flush with returning passion as his own desire soared into the stratosphere at mach two.
Winter MacKeage then proceeded to not only back up her boast of athletic health, she proved herself to be surprisingly free of inhibitions and provokingly curious for a woman so new to the sport.
They made love several more times that night, sometimes with wild abandon and sometimes with lazy tenderness, sometimes dozing between sessions and sometimes just lying in each other’s arms as they listened to the angry wind howling outside their cozy golden den.
And through it all, deep in the back of Matt’s mind, was the realization that morning would arrive with either Winter’s vow of loyalty passing the test, or the harsh reality of an even more deadly storm damning them both.
Chapter Seventeen
W inter woke up with a smile,thinking she might have dreamt her night of passion but for the wonderful aches in every muscle she had and the very real taste of Matt Gregor still on her lips. She could tell she was alone without even opening her eyes, the cave’s stillness so absolute after being filled with an energy so volatile that her insides still quivered with remembered sensations.
When her stomach rumbled, Winter remembered she hadn’t eaten anything yesterday and decided she should cook Matt a nice breakfast to impress him with her one and only domestic skill. She opened her eyes and sat up to discover she’d thrown off the sleeping bag sometime in her sleep. Good heavens, had she been lying here stark naked while Matt had dressed and gone outside? She snatched up the sleeping bag and belatedly held it over her body, a blush scorching her cheeks as she blinked at her surroundings. She suddenly gasped.
The walls were glowing. Glowing! The granite was no longer a dark gray but a soft rich gold, and she could actually feelwaves of heat radiating from them. No wonder she’d thrown off the sleeping bag; it had to be eighty degrees in the cave.
“Curses,” she muttered, scrambling to her feet, her nakedness forgotten as she crept to the wall and gently touched the golden glow. It was hot!
Had her little incident with her staff yesterday charged the granite with ions or something? Could they be radioactive? She snatched her hand back just as another thought struck her. How in hell was she going to explain glowing walls to Matt?
Winter spun around, gathered up the clothes she’d been wearing yesterday, and quickly dressed, ignoring her protesting muscles as she contorted her arms to fasten her bra. She then hopped from one foot to the other to slip into her pants as she frantically searched the cave for her staff. Where in heck was it? She knew she had left the stick where it had blown against the back wall last night, but it wasn’t there!
She stopped in midhop with another gasp.
Gesader. Where in heck was her pet?
Winter sat down and put on her socks. He must have heard someone coming through the woods last night and left before Matt had gotten to the cave. And the brat had taken that blasted stick with him, Winter decided as she crammed her feet into her boots and quickly laced them. But staff or not, she still had to find a way to explain the glowing walls.
Wait. A fire. She could build a huge fire in the pit, and Matt would think the flames were reflecting off the walls and making them glow. Yeah, and that would also account for it being as hot as Hades in here. Winter scooted over to the fire pit, threw several pieces of wood into a haphazard tepee, and started looking around for a starter.
Curses, she was right back to her original problem—no starter. She got to her feet, tiptoed to the entrance of the cave, and peeked outside to look for Matt. The wind had died down considerably, and only light snow was falling now, but all Winter saw were Matt’s footprints heading toward the meadow. She sighed in relief, ran to the birch tree she’d mutilated yesterday, and ripped off several more strips of bark. She ran back, stuffed the bark inside the tepee, then started hunting for her packet of matches.
She lifted the sleeping bag and then the pad, tossing them away to see underneath, and found nothing but empty ground. She ran to the pile of blankets, pawing through them but still finding nothing.
She did find the lantern sitting next to the side wall, but no matches beside it. Beginning to panic, she tore all the clothes out of Matt’s bag looking for a lighter, something, anything to start a fire!
Winter walked back to the pit, circling it as she stared at the fireless tepee. Crouching down with her back to the entrance, she frowned. Robbie didn’t use a staff to start fires when they ate lunch in the forest; he only had to touch the wood to get it to burst into flame. He never spoke any words, but just seemed to wantit to light and it did.
Well, she was supposed to be a wizard, wasn’t she? Winter reached out and touched the wood with her finger, willed it to burst into flame, and got…She got nothing, not even a fizzle.
She frowned, concentrating harder, this time demandingit to light…and still got nothing.
A large hand suddenly covered hers, holding her finger on the wood. “You need to calmly ask for what you want,” Matt whispered just as the tepee gently burst into flame.
Winter scurried away with a startled yelp, standing up and backing against the wall of the cave, her eyes wide with shock. Matt fed a few more sticks to the growing fire, then stood and brushed flakes of snow off his shoulders as he faced her.
Winter opened her mouth but nothing, not even a squeak, came out. How could he…how had he done…she couldn’t even comprehend what had just happened, much less articulate it.
He stepped toward her, and Winter scrambled sideways along the glowing wall. He stopped, tucked his hands behind his back, and smiled. “Good morning, wife,” he said softly.
She opened her mouth again, and this time managed only an unintelligible squeak.
“Are you hungry?” he asked. “I know I’m starved.”
“Wh-who are you?” she was finally able to whisper.
“Matheson Gregor,” he answered calmly. “Guardian of Gairn.”
“Cùram!” she gasped, clutching her hand around her neck, trying to stop the blood from draining from her face.
He bowed slightly. “Aye, but I prefer you call me Matt. Or husband,” he offered with a crooked smile.
Winter inched farther along the wall, its heat causing a trickle of sweat to run down her back.
Daar and her papa and Robbie had been hunting for Cùram de Gairn for over two weeks, and he’d been right under their noses the whole time. She eyed the entrance of the cave, gauging her chances of getting past Matt—or Cùram or whoever the heck he was!—before he could get around the fire.
“Don’t even try,” he said softly. “I’ll catch you before you can leave the meadow. And besides, there is no place for you to run, wife.”
“Stop calling me that! I’m not your wife!”
He pulled his hands from behind his back and folded his arms over his chest, looking down at the balled-up sleeping bag at his feet, then back at her, one eyebrow raised. “We became man and wife last night, Winter,” he whispered in calm contradiction to her shout.
“We are not married! Having sex isn’t the same as having a wedding,” she continued a bit more forcefully, anger rising to her defense. She folded her own arms under her breasts, not to mimic him, but to hug herself against the chill growing inside her despite the wall scorching her back. “There has to be an actual ceremony and a priest in attendance for it to be binding.”
“Oh, it’s binding, princess, if the two people exchanging vows do so willingly.” He shrugged. “A priest is only a formality for society’s sake.” He lifted one brow again. “Did you not pledge me your love and loyalty last night, Winter? Did you not agree to my own declaration of marriage?”