Free At the Queen's Summons by Susan Wiggs Page A

need. His mouth and tongue went deeper, and his hands smoothed down her back, fingers splaying as he pressed her closer, closer.
    The quickness of his breath startled her into the realization that he, too, was moved by the intimacy. He, too, had chosen the kiss.
    All her life, Pippa had been curious about every bright, shiny thing she saw, and loveplay was no different, yet wholly different. It was not a case of simple wanting, but the experience of a sudden, devastating need she did not know she had.
    Tightening her arms around his neck, she thrust against him, wanting the closeness to last forever. She could feel his heartbeat against her chest, feel the life force of another person beating against her and, in an odd, spiritual way, joining with her.
    He lifted his mouth from hers. A stunned expression bloomed on his face. “Ah, colleen,” he whispered urgently, “we must stop before I—”
    â€œBefore what?” She reveled in the feel of his wine-sweet breath next to her face.
    â€œBefore I want more than just a kiss.”
    â€œThen it’s too late for me,” she admitted, “for I already want more.”
    He chuckled, very low and very softly, and there was a subtle edge of anguish in his voice. “When you decide to be honest, you don’t stint, do you?”
    â€œI suppose not. Ah, I do want you, Aidan.”
    A sad-sweet smile curved his beautiful mouth. “And I want you, lass. But we must not let this go any further.”
    â€œWhy not?”
    He lifted her hands away from him and rose from the bed, moving slowly as if he were in pain. “Because it’s not proper.”
    Stung, she scowled. “I have never been preoccupied with what is proper.”
    â€œI have,” he muttered, and turned away. From thecauldron, he ladled himself a cup of wine and drank it in one gulp. “I’m sorry, Pippa.”
    Already he had withdrawn from her, and she shivered with the chill of rejection. “Can’t you look at me and say that?”
    He turned, and still his movements seemed labored. “I said I was sorry. I took advantage of your innocence, and I should never have done that.”
    â€œI chose the kiss.”
    â€œSo did I.”
    â€œThen why did you stop?”
    â€œI want you to tell me about yourself. Kissing gets in the way of clearheaded thinking.”
    â€œSo if I tell you about myself, we can go back to the kissing?”
    An annoyed tic started in his jaw. “I never said that.”
    â€œWell, can we?”
    With exaggerated care, he set down his cup and walked over to the bed. Cradling her face between his hands, he gazed at her with heartbreaking regret. “No, colleen.”
    â€œBut—”
    â€œConsider the consequences. Some of them are quite lasting.”
    She swallowed. “You mean a baby.” A wistful longing rose in her. Would it be such a catastrophe, she wondered, if the O Donoghue Mór were to give her a child? A small, helpless being that belonged solely to her?
    She felt his hands, so gentle upon her face, yet his expression was one of painful denial. “Why should I do as you say?” she asked, resisting the urge to hurl herself at him, to cling to him and not let go.
    â€œBecause I’m asking you to, a gradh. Please.”
    She blew out a weary sigh, aware without asking thatthe Irish word was an endearment. “Do you know how impossible it is to say no to you?”
    He smiled a little, bent and kissed the top of her head before letting her go. “Now. We were working backward from your move to London. You met a mysterious hag—”
    â€œGypsy woman.”
    â€œIn Ireland we would call her a woman of the sidhe.”
    â€œShe said I’d meet a man who would change my life.” Pippa leaned back against the banked pillows. She wondered if he noticed her blush-stung cheeks. “I always thought it meant I’d find my father. But I’ve changed