Siobhan spent much of the drive dozing, much to Angus’s amusement.

He had never been known to put women to sleep but he was glad she was relaxed enough around him to rest.

He found, however, he rather missed her chatter, having become accustomed to her random remarks about perfectly ordinary things and perfectly dull-looking people. Lately, during particularly grueling days at work, he’d call her, knowing her good-natured, irrepressible small talk would soothe and entertain him.

“We’re here,” he turned to her after he pulled into a cul-de-sac and killed the engine.

“Was I asleep?” Siobhan yawned.

“And snoring.”

“I wasn’t!” She shot up, into a straight position, and looked at him in horror, but grinned when she saw the expression on his face.

Angus kissed her swiftly and slipped his hand under her shirt.

The Aston Martin, which was a comfortable ride, especially for someone of his powerful build, was now proving to be quite small for the acrobatics he had in mind. He would definitely have to bear that in mind when they next took a drive through the countryside. Forget the Aston. Bring the Bentley.

He touched one pert nipple with his thumb and felt her melt under the caress. She shifted on the seat, trying get him closer and bumping her knee on the gear shift.

“That’s about all we’ll be getting here,” he murmured against her lips with a frustrated sigh. “This car is too small for making love.”

She gave him another scorching kiss, “I’ll take a rain check.”

She’d never thought she would see the day when she would need a cold shower, but that seemed to be the effect he had on her. One glance, a fleeting touch, and she melted like a candle over an open flame.

“Is this still your property?” Siobhan asked, as she undid her seat belt. “It’s beautiful.”

They got out of the car and walked in the direction of a small house until they came to a copse of trees near the end of a gravel path.

The weather was actually nice, the sun rapidly combating the slight chill in the air, and she hoped she would be shedding the cardigan before the day was out.

“It is,” Angus replied, opening the door. “I enjoyed coming here as a boy in the summertime, swimming, and fishing whenever I could sneak around my tutors.”

Siobhan climbed out of the car, attempting to picture Angus as a boy. Was he carefree or had he been stern from the time he came out of his mother’s womb? Would their child be the same? She wished for this child to grow up as she had after moving in with the Talbot family: a life full of love and laughter, with splashing in mud puddles on a rainy day, to staying up late to eat ice cream past bedtime.

She didn’t want him, or her, to be constrained by the title they were born into.

“Are you coming?”

Siobhan looked up to see Angus waiting for her to join him, his arms weighed down with the hamper, a blanket and two large pillows. He looked far from the king that everyone knew him as, and more like the sexy man she had first met. “Yes, I’m coming.”

Siobhan smelled the river before she saw it: sandy loam and the tang of fish. From their vantage point, she could see its bubbling water. It gushed down through the trees and into the meadow, sending sprays of water shooting high wherever it collided with a boulder.

“Look, there it is,” Angus pointed at a skeletal structure extending across the river. The bridge was three-fourths finished, with men working on it.

“Why are you building a bridge way out here in the middle of nowhere?” Siobhan asked.

“To save time.” Angus led her down the path and under the trees near the river providing decent shade from the sun overhead. “This river runs down the middle of the Romani Village, separating two important pastures and is too deep for crossing. Right now, they have to drive their cattle a day south, cross where the river is shallow, then take another day driving north again. This will be a lot quicker. And safer.”

She watched as Angus spread out the blanket on the lawn, tossed the pillows over it, and motioned for her to sit. “Are we going there? To visit the Romanis?”

“Yes. Later.”

“I could get used to this,” she kicked off her shoes, sitting on the blanket, and relaxed on a pillow. She was feeling more like royalty than the king himself.

Angus watched as Siobhan got comfortable, some of the tension easing out of his body. She looked relaxed, not as tired as she looked when they left the palace, which was how he preferred it to be. The stress of her relocation was probably worse for her than he’d imagined and he found himself concerned about her and the baby.

He couldn’t lose either of them.

After unpacking the food from the hamper, he gestured for her to start. “Help yourself.”

“I’m famished. It must be this high mountain air,” she said. “I’m glad now Esmeralda overpacked the hamper.”

“I’m starved, too.” And it’s not only food I desire.

“What’s for lunch?”

“A little bit of everything.” Doing his best to ignore the effect Siobhan’s perfume had on his body, Angus opened the hamper and took out a still-hot, scent-wafting pie, mini sandwiches, pastries, cakes, and juices.

“Mmm…it smells good. There are pastries in here!” Extracting a pasty, she tore it in half and offered it to him. “Pastries are a glorious food. One I never get in London.”

“Why not?”

“Pasties aren’t good for the waistline,” she spoke around her food.

Angus resisted the urge to smile. Her manners would shock his mother, but he didn’t care one iota. “There’s nothing wrong with your waistline,” he replied.

She paused mid-chew.

He shrugged a shoulder and make a nonchalant face. “It’s perfectly ordinary.” Extraordinary.

She began chewing again. Swallowed. “Thank you? I suppose?”

“You are welcome.” Angus stretched out beside Siobhan, a triangle piece of pie in his hand. He couldn’t recall a time when he had done this.

“The only thing you should be thinking about is getting your strength back and gaining a little weight. If the wind starts to blow, I’ll have to tie you to myself with a rope so you don’t blow away.” He chuckled, popping the last bit of his pie in his mouth, watching as the sun put a rosy color on her face. “I guess Esmeralda was thinking the same thing when she packed that hamper.”

“I’m as strong as I ever was,” she replied, taking a bite of another pastry.

After a few minutes of companionable silence, Angus said, “I think we should set the date for our wedding.”

“Angus…” Siobhan sighed. “I haven’t decided about it yet and the more I think about it, the more I am convinced love must enter the equation when we are talking about marrying for the sake of raising a child.”

“You don’t understand,” he muttered.

Oh, yes, I do now. “Then enlighten me.”

The silence stretched between them until he finally clicked his tongue impatiently. “Okay, we all have all the three basic reasons for getting married and living a happy life for many years. One. Do we have good times when we are together?”

“I guess.”

He smirked at her. “You…guess?”

“Okay, we do. Angus, you can’t sum things up like—”

“No. It’s your turn to do the listening now. Two. Do I, or do I not, turn you on?”

She wondered whether it had turned him on, knowing how powerful the effect he had on her was. “That’s unfair. You know you do.”

“I know.” His mouth curled in sensuous satisfaction as his mind lingered on the very seductive image of her writhing under his exploring hands.

She huffed and rolled her eyes at him. She’d read somewhere that that was sometimes how it worked. One could physically be attracted to someone else, at least for a while, not because they were your type, but because they were so mad—keen on you that it was an irresistible tug on the ego. Of course, after a while, it might become boring and he would lose interest in her.

“Three.” He ticked another finger. “Would I, or would I not, make sure that your and our child’s every material need is met?”

She shook her head. “You’re asking the obvious, Dragon.”

“That’s what life is all about. The obvious.” He moved the hamper away and rolled on his side, resting on his elbow. “The minute we start layering it with shades of grey, we start getting caught in quicksand.”

“That’s a horrible image.” She knew just how persuasive he could be when he put his mind to it. Whatever he wanted, he had once told her, he got. Simple as that. And sure, when he looked at her like this—caressing her with his golden eyes, willing her to yield to his supposed words of wisdom—she could almost believe he had a point; love was just a word that was meaningless and harmful. Almost, but not quite.

“Shall I tell you something very obvious, Angel?” he asked huskily.

She gazed into his slumberous eyes, shivers racing impossibly through her body. No, don’t tell me any obvious things anymore.

Because nothing with Angus was as obvious as he liked to pretend, least of all when he was attempting to appear as pure as the snow. She knew verbally he could run rings around her, and that quicksand he had mentioned…well, she would find herself well and truly drowning in it.

The atmosphere was suddenly charged.

Her skin prickled at the thought of him rolling over her, claiming her mouth, nuzzling at her breasts, and burying himself between her thighs. There. In the open.

“What?”

His hand pushed away a lock of hair the breeze blew on her face, and let his fingers brush her face, neck, breasts, making her gasp at the contact. “We haven’t made love in the open.”

The way he seemed to know what she was thinking was disconcerting. “You…you can’t divert me with…by…”

“With? By?” he mimicked, amused, back in control, and scooted closer to her. He shot her one of those crooked grins that made her toes curl. “Anyone would think I had sent you into a tailspin.”

He leaned in towards her and crushed her open mouth under his, and Siobhan’s mind emptied of all thought as a blistering passion was unleashed. Hands that wanted desperately to keep him away while they talked, curled around his neck. She couldn’t get enough of his kisses.

He rolled onto his back and pulled her over until she was on his lap, where she could feel his stiffened member beneath her.

Her dress was front-opening via a series of tiny, fiddly imitation-pearl buttons. Even though he felt on the verge of exploding, wanting to rip them apart, Angus was going to take his time. He began undoing the tiny buttons one by one, savoring the sight of her creamy flesh as it was gradually exposed to his hungry eyes.

“This is crazy.” Is it, though? She would go through her life haunted by the memory of his touch. She should be greedy and take this now, say yes.

Her lace bra was a flimsy barrier for her breasts. Through the white lace, her pink nipples peeped at him, making his taste buds go into overdrive.

“What if someone drives up this lane and sees us?” She curved, pliant, against his hands.

Her dress was now opened to the waist, but instead of pulling it down, Angus reached behind and expertly unclasped her bra, and as it loosened he pushed it down so that her heavy breasts spilled free.

Everywhere around them was deserted. In the distance, she could spot some cows relaxing in the shade of a copse of trees and nothing more. It was idyllic.

“No one drives up here,” he told her thickly, taking her glasses off. He didn’t want her looking at anything but him.

Siobhan watched his beautiful dark head come up. She closed her eyes, arching back so that she could present her breasts to him. She managed to ask, “Then why is there a road?”

“For randy adults like us who can’t hold on any longer,” he answered, before closing his mouth over a nipple.

As he sucked on them, she felt that familiar fire course through her body, igniting those wanton urges which he had discovered and made his own.

He adored her breasts. Of that, there was little doubt, and she would enjoy his adoration, even if it was only of her body, the least important part of her as far as she was concerned.

“Now tell me that this is a bad idea,” he whispered to her mouth, slipping his hand under the hemline of her dress which had ridden halfway up her thighs and toyed provocatively with the lacy waistband of her underwear, running his finger along her already rounding stomach in a repetitive movement that was driving her crazy.

“What?”

“Us marrying.”

“Angus…” Why am I allowing him to do this? “Stop. I don’t want this.”

The unease which he had felt all the times when she had given him her speech about love and romance, returned with double force.

Angus held her face in both his hands, looked at her seriously, because forcing himself on a woman when she said no, even if her body said yes, was not his style.

“You mean that?” he breathed huskily. He let one hand fall, and this time, his fingers dipped under her panties, caressing the silkiness of her pubic hair, and running over the crease which was teasing him with its promise of honeyed sweetness.

Siobhan could feel herself drowning in his amazing eyes. Even when she blinked to clear her head, she still felt giddy. “Yes—No—I don’t know…”

“How can I change your mind?” Angus asked softly, pushing his fingers deeper into her inviting cleft, and then cupping her with his hand. He could feel her dampness against his fingers, an unbelievable turn-on. As was the knowledge even in the midst of her rant she still couldn’t resist him, still couldn’t deny the demands of her own body.

She knew he was not asking about making love but about her marrying him and felt confused, horrified at her inability to resist him.

“I can’t think when you’re doing stuff like that.” Siobhan heard the weak craving in her voice with despair, because there was still some small part of her brain functioning and it was telling her to stop this madness right now and get back on track of what they were discussing.

“Thinking can be a much-overrated virtue,” he murmured, and slid his finger deeper, groaning as she squirmed against it.

“Oh, damn, Angus, just do it.”

Angus breathed a sigh of relief. His body was on fire, as it always seemed to be when she was around. He flipped her on her back and moved between her legs, shoving her skirt up and slowly pulling her panties off. “I’m going to lick you until you scream my name.”

Siobhan felt her whole body burn as those amazing eyes bored into hers.

He couldn’t stop a groan of pure pleasure from escaping him as he cupped her buttocks and raised her to his mouth.

Despite not being the first time he’d went down on her, she was unprepared for the electrifying zing that made her bow her spine up as he parted her delicate folds and began caressing her with his tongue.

A balmy breeze brought with it the distant sound of cows lowing but it was all lost on Siobhan as she pushed up on her elbows to watch him lavish attention on her: it was almost as erotic as the actual physical touch.

He raised his eyes and caught her watching him. He rose his face and licked his lips, leisurely. “You should taste yourself. You’re so sweet.”

“Angus…” she breathed.

He had shocked her, but he had shocked himself, too. He could imagine them doing many naughty things together, exploring their desires—for many years to come.

When he dipped two fingers inside her and rubbed them on her lips, she gasped.

His eyes glowed, and he licked her long before saying, “Suck, Lieben. Taste your honey.”

She did, pulling his fingers into her mouth, and it drew a groan from him, the sound of his pleasure at seeing her obeying his order, reverberating on her folds.

She couldn’t imagine ever doing this with anyone else—there were a lot of things she couldn’t imagine doing with anyone else, but she closed her mind to all of that and enjoyed his licks taking her higher.

He took it slowly until her rapid breathing became low whimpers and long moans. Angus encouraged, “That’s it.”

“Oh, Angus! Yes, more, there.” She arched her back and pushed herself against his face. “Oh! Yes.”

Her small cries of pleasure were music to him. He fastened his mouth to her sweetly ripened, throbbing bud, powerfully sucking her clitoris, and pumped his large fingers inside her.

She could feel her own inevitable climax approaching as he continued to lick and suck her wildly sensitized nub. Carried away on the wings of powerful, drugged passion, she fisted her fingers into his long hair and tried to pull his head up. “I want you inside me, fucking me—fucking me hard and deep.”

But her efforts were useless against the inroads he was making with his expert lathering. She dropped back against the pillow, unable to do anything but watch his head moving between her thighs, and then she closed her eyes and lost herself in wave upon wave of shameless pleasure which had her arching back, crying out at the intensity of her fulfilment.

When she opened her eyes again, he had already divested himself of his clothes and was stroking himself.

“This is what you do to me,” he murmured roughly, as always, shaken by her ability to completely wipe out all his self-control.

For a man who could be arrogant, frighteningly self-assured and sometimes just plain exasperating in his need to control his surroundings, he was vulnerable in his desire.

Siobhan opened her arms and let her legs fall to the sides. “Fuck me, Dragon.”

Once more, Siobhan closed her eyes, sighing with a mixture of pleasure, as he began to feast on her breasts.

She gave a stifled groan when he playfully bit her nipple and began moving against him when his thigh moved rhythmically between her legs.

Soon, she was gasping and moaning and shuddering against his seductive hands and mouth.

“I can’t wait.” He drew in a sharp breath, as if in the grip of something over which he had no control, and plunged inside her welcoming warmth. “God, you’re paradise.”

She felt him thrusting powerfully into her, with hunger and urgency, his hips pistoning to fill her, more, deeper, harder.

“God, Siobhan.” He put his hand between them and coaxed her higher when he felt his sack tightening. “I’m going to come so hard.”

She took him deeper, squeezing him inside her. “Angus, I’m coming.”

He took her hands in his and raised them up over her head and hammered inside her.

With their hands, mouths, and bodies joined, they succumbed to the racing heights of pleasure.

After a timeless period, they surfaced and their eyes met, slumberous with satisfaction.

It was glorious. Wonderful. If she could have made time stand still, she would have done so. She would have liked to bottle the memory and kept it close to her forever, so she could breathe it in whenever she wanted.

She had spent half of the time since he kidnapped her berating herself for her foolishness for having gotten involved with him. She had given herself lecture upon lecture on the importance of love and the sanctity of marriage. In her head, he had quailed at the logic of her arguments, admitting defeat and then begging her to be patient with him, to show him how to love; she had been fully in charge, leading the way, a dominatrix cracking the whip, the bearer of truth and enlightenment.

But fate had seen fit to throw them together for a reason, and whatever the reason was, she only knew one thing: she was helplessly in love with her dragon.