...“Rhian…Rhian, my love. Come to me. I’m here. I’m waiting.”

She was lost in a sea of mist. She looked down. The ground beneath her was gone. Not gone, exactly. It had slipped away until it was only a tiny spec in the distance, as if she were in an airplane and watching it fade from site. Yet she wasn’t afraid of falling. She hovered lightly, bound by a blanket of fog. Then the blanket was swept away to reveal what she could only describe as a slice of heaven. A green bank of soft grasses by a trickling stream. A large willow tree with a full flush of finger thin branches so long that their ends dipped into the water.

She parted the branches. A figure of a man stood outlined in the shadows. He turned then and Rhian could see his face. A fair face with shining eyes, coal black with a tiny glint of starlight. The hint of a breeze rustled his full head of dark, thick hair, causing the strands to fall rakishly across his wide forehead. His full lips parted into a wide smile displaying a dazzling set of strong, white teeth. He was dressed in a simple cream-colored shirt, open from neck to waist, revealing a mass of curling, dark hair across his chest. His plain, brown breeches rode teasingly across his hips and tight at the crotch. So tight that Rhian could see the outline of a very impressive package—one that grew larger as he approached her. He walked toward her with leisurely stealth. His darkly tanned, knee-high boots left no tracks on the damp grass. In truth, he was the most sensually elegant rogue Rhian had ever seen. And she wanted him—bad!

The way he looked at her turned her knees to water. Her mons twitched in anticipation. Her breasts tingled and the nipples pursed against the bodice of the short diaphanous slip she wore, a garment not unlike the newly designed costume she was to wear performing at the gala. Yet she knew she’d worn this garment before, been to this place before, and with this man. This man who advanced with purpose.

The black eyes were deep and hungry, the kind of hunger that had only one satisfactory outcome. Rhian felt herself blush. No man had ever looked at her like that. No one—except him. She felt herself grow wet with desire. Her entire sex throbbed.

He opened his arms to her. Rhian did the same. She was in his arms and, it seemed, she was trying to make him part of her. She kissed him with an unexplained urgency. He returned the sentiment in kind with animal-like fury. His hands fondled her through her meager gown. She made no protest as they slipped under her dress. Warm and firm was his touch, and he knew just where to touch her. With practiced ease his fingers brushed her pale bush of blond curls before skimming her soaked vulva.

“Ah, mo boidheach—my beauty—your dew-pot is overflowing.”

“It’s been waiting for you. Waiting such a long time.”

It was her voice. The words came from her mouth. The mouth that found any inch of her lover’s bare skin. And oh, how he tasted! Sweet, yet spicy. Fresh sweat beaded his forehead. Funky sex pheromones oozed from his pores. His heartbeat matched hers, a crazy rhythm worthy of any free-set jig and the thumping of a bodhran drum. Together they sank to the ground, cradled by lush, green grass.

No protest came from her lips as her loose gown slipped off her shoulders. The sheer folds of her dress pooled above her waist. She was nearly naked to his hungry eyes. And she suspected his eyes saw many things.

His head dipped to her abdomen. He nuzzled his rough cheek against her mons.