pieces of propaganda produced in the period,” Magnus said, when she took a pace away from the portrait.
“Propaganda? But it’s beautiful.”
“We’ll go to get coffee now.” He ushered her along toward the doors at the back of the hall.
“Propaganda is a strong word to use. Explain what you mean about the picture?”
As ever, his smile moderated his gaunt air. “The sweet virgin queen was in her fifties when The Rainbow Portrait was made, an age when many women of the era were already dead or contemplating their demise.”
“But she looks so beautiful, so… Oh, Magnus, was she?”
“No. Queen Elizabeth made sure her portrait painters worked to her specifications. If their work didn’t fit her desired image, the paintings were never made public, thus preserving the goddess myth.” He squeezed her half-gloved fingers tight as he gave a low chuckle. “As far as I am aware, none of my genus has ever taken a place on the British throne.”
“Hmm. I still think she must have been very beautiful. The way she manipulated the media of her day was awesome. Clever.” She linked her arm through his, glanced up to once again admire his profile, the set of his jaw, his sensual lips, the strong cheekbones, each lured her the same way today as they had the morning they met. No man could compare with this one. He was all hers, at least for now, and she’d do her damndest to make sure it stayed that way.
They entered the coffee shop. She took a seat at a table looking out onto autumnal gardens and he went to the counter. Several female heads turned as he passed. She couldn’t fault the women for their admiration, and he didn’t seem to notice their interest.
Magnus joined her, placing the tray with coffee and slices of walnut cake on the table. He set out the cups. She added cream and sugar. “I’m glad we came here. I like it,” she said, sipping her coffee. “There are some fabulous places for a still camera shoot.”
“I don’t know about that, but I’m glad we came here, too. The grounds are magnificent.”
“There’s a kind of permanency to it.”
“No,” he murmured. “I can’t feel such a quality here. We’d need to travel a little farther to find such a thing.”
“Farther? Could we?”
Magnus stared across the table at her, his expression guarded as he set the cake fork down. “Yes, we could, but not today. We’ll visit the chapel. You’ll like it, I’m sure. The stained glass is exquisite.”
He’d distanced himself again. After finishing her coffee, she left him at the table for a few moments. Attending to herself in the ladies’ lavatory, she understood the reason for his intent focus on the grounds. In his effort to ignore her menstruation, he had pinpointed a laser beam of concentration to their surroundings instead. Perhaps another day or so, but goodness, how she longed for this month’s period to finish.
Magnus, wearing a light colored mackintosh that emphasized his height over the other visitors, waited for her in front of the large window at the entrance to the café. His smile of greeting dissolved her, sending her senses reeling.
“Sorry if I kept you waiting. Chapel now?”
“Yes. You’ll enjoy it. After, we’ll take a walk to find the oaks. I need a reminder of their power.”
A reminder? What did he mean?
The chapel proved as beautiful as he’d said. The exquisite stained glass captivated her. The delicacy the craftsmen of a distant age had created spoke of eternally relevant emotions, hopes, and fears.
“Are you ready to go?” she finally asked after they’d stood to admire the windows.
He took her hand in his to lead her out into the autumnal sunlight. She stretched her paces as he hurried her down the path. A fitful breeze swirled leaves, creating a flurry of shadow dancers in the afternoon light.
She breathed fast in the effort to match his swift long stride. “Is there a reason to hurry?”
“No, I wanted to wake myself up a little.” He slowed his steps. His eyes gleamed as he turned to her. “It’s good to taste the fresh air.”
A shiver raced down her spine. Somehow, his mood had changed. She fought off the desire to run, to sprint off toward the distant trees, offering him the challenge to catch her. The last time she’d felt like this they’d shared the kind of lovemaking she’d thought just fantasy. “Magnus?”
“No,” he replied. “I want you to see the trees. Once you have, we’ll talk about permanence.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. You know why.” His gaze fixed on hers. “Help me, please, don’t tease. It’s not a good idea, not today.”
She longed to roll with him in the bed of leaves, but the image in her mind closed under the shutter of his words. Another time. Another day. She focused on the trees, all of them beautiful in the last phase of this year’s leaf. “I’ve never seen such magnificent colors or such shapes.”
“These are probably the oldest oak trees in the grounds. They’ve had lots of time to grow in the way they wish.” Tucking her hand through the crook of his arm, he smiled. “Some of these are century’s old, one or two may be more ancient still.”
Looking up to his smile, she nodded. His need to feel a part of time should be fed. Perhaps she might find a way. Now he’d mentioned it, she’d work hard to try to arrange a visit to Egypt for them. He’d traveled in his youth and could again. Surely, in Egypt he’d have a sense of time greater than his own.
“Yes, that would be an adventure we both might enjoy.” He strode on beside her.
“You heard my thought?”
“Did I?”
“Yes, I didn’t say anything aloud, yet you answered me.”
He nodded. “I did tell you our link would deepen.”
“Yes.” She stifled the new rash of concerns this brought. “So you did.”
Chapter 3
Heartbeat pounding, he raced over the mossy grass toward the slender figure who headed into the dense thicket of trees. Pale like moonlight, her slim legs moved fast as quicksilver. How he’d delight in stroking the satin smooth flesh of her thighs, teasing in between when he caught her. And catch her he would. When he did, she’d plead for his forgiveness, promise she’d never run again. He’d believe her, of course, until the next time.
The widening gaze, her eyes shining bright as she glanced over her shoulder before taking her first step into the shadows, increased his expectations. She filled him with determination. This tempting minx would howl for him.
How her dreams thrilled him. This one was proving as delightful as the others she’d gifted to him and allowed him to share. Full of life, vitality, and Sian, always Sian, no other woman had ever, or could ever, torment him in the delicious way she did.
The close-knit trees, with thick shadowy undergrowth, slowed his rapid paces to match hers.
A gentle breath, one not his own, told him where she hid. Less than an arm’s length from him he caught a flash of the pale dress. He ducked down into the undergrowth at the base of a tall chestnut tree. Amber, ochre, rust, and orange, the autumn woodland colors complimented his mate’s pure beauty. Her brandy wine, corkscrew curls cascaded over her shoulders. The rich, creamy lace gown clung tight to her slender waist, molded to her rounded buttocks. She clutched a frothy curdle at the front of the ankle length skirt up above her knees to lessen the impediment of her dress in her barefoot attempt to escape him. All of her image sent his blood rolling in eager excitement. He took a deep breath to force himself to calm. Sian knew him well enough to provoke his desire with ease. This little fantasy lured him toward the culmination hot and hard.
Her