Morning Always Comes

ETAN

He couldn't stop staring at her in the moonlight—until he started touching her. Then he couldn't stop touching her and kissing her and marveling at the way she rippled under his hands.

She was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. And when she raised her eyes to him in a question and let her hands explore his chest, pulling the last of his buttons open, tugging his shirt out of his trousers for better access… and she had no idea what she was doing. No clue the fire she lit in him with that simple action. She only knew that she wanted to touch him, skin to skin, and that she enjoyed it.

She was utterly innocent. He had to be so careful with her.

After the first few times she stroked his chest, she dropped to trail her fingers over his stomach. He was forced to catch her hands and hold them, eyes squeezed tightly shut as he tried to get his breathing—and his body—under control.

"What is it?" She asked. "Are you ticklish? Does that not feel good to you?"

"No!" he rushed to tell her, his eyes flying open. "No, not that. The opposite of that. It feels very good, Ayleth. Too good. I do not wish to… take liberties with you. And I fear… I fear if I keep allowing you touch me like that… I may lose control."

She frowned. "Lose control… like Roarke? Because I'm pretty sure I wouldn't mind. Though my mother did warn me that men can—"

"No," he seethed through his teeth. "I would never… I would never touch you against your will. But I could… I know I could—I mean you would like it. And then… then we might be tempted… we must wait, Ayleth. We cannot give anyone any other reason to resist our union."

She nodded, then looked down at his chest sadly, as if she missed it. His stomach clenched and her eyes, fixed on his chest, lit up in a way that threatened to undo him.

"I know you don't understand, yet, my love," he breathed, "but I need to be careful. Not to tempt you, or myself, to things we shouldn't yet enjoy."

She tilted her head and touched his face. "Does your culture believe to mate before marriage is a bad thing? Because ours does, but not really? I find it all quite confusing. Our traditions suggest that a noblewoman who has had partners before marriage is to be poorly regarded, yet my mother argues for experience, and says—"

"I think it's wonderful," Etan said quickly, "That your mother is so open with you. My father is open with me also. I wish to show you honor, Ayleth. That is all. I've already broken that trust, from your parent's perspective, by being here with you. I don't want to give them more reason to distrust me."

Her eyes clouded. "Yes, I see what you mean. So it isn't that you don't want to mate with me?"

He snorted. "No." he said shortly. "I assure you, that is not the problem… there is a level respect due to anyone—but especially someone as precious as you."

Her eyes twinkled when he said that. "I don't know about precious," she said shyly. "But I know that I have heard so much about what happens between a man and woman, yet… whenever I experience something, it feels and works very differently than I expect. Education in these matters is not at all the same as practice, I fear. At least, I didn't understand why everyone cared so much. Until tonight. Until you…" she trailed off.

They locked eyes and Etan prayed, thanking God for her—wondering what he'd ever done to deserve her. Her breath sped up under his stare, and she licked her lips. "There's something inside me, Etan. And it… aches for you."

He nodded, so moved he could barely find words. "I feel the same," he said hoarsely, then engaged in outright war within himself—his body versus his mind, his heart versus his soul. He knew they couldn't give in to their desire for each other, the risk was too great. But the way she looked at him, the way she trailed her hand to his neck and laid it on his collarbone…

He couldn't resist kissing her again, pulling her in tightly, his breath hot and heavy—and she clung to him so tightly he was ready to throw all of it out just to be closer to her. But when he pulled back, panting, to speak, to ask her if she'd consider taking him, he suddenly realized he could see her freckles.

Light. There was more light. With a gasp he whirled to the large opening in the wall and swore. Pink was beginning to creep up on the horizon.

"Ayleth, it's morning!"

She gasped. "I have to get back to the castle."

They stared at each other and Etan's heart sank. Her cheeks were prettily flushed, and her eyes sparkling. He wanted nothing more than to throw her down on his cloak and plunge into her, virtue be damned. But the sadness in her eyes… yes, he felt that too.

Two weeks of distance and deceit. "Two weeks," he whispered. "Only two."

"Two weeks," she whispered back, then put a hand up to stroke her thumb on his jaw. "Two weeks." She said it like a promise.

He kissed her again, softly, carefully. Then, with a heavy sigh he took her hand and led her back to the ladder, darting quickly through the stables before the boys began their morning rounds, and out into the meadow, back to the castle.