Mystic Mountains

around Isabella's heart, imprinted itself on her memory as the taste and feel of Tiger had and always would.
    He caressed her with a kind of reverence, his strong hands tracing a path over her body as he unclothed her. How sweet it was to feel his touch again; to share in the wonder only he could conjure.
    Night birds called above them, and the air was filled with the scents of wild blossoms as he touched her, kissed her, gently at first, then with growing passion. The surroundings dissolved, leaving just the two of them in a world of their own making, a world where the senses ruled.
    Without being conscious of when or how it happened they were naked in each other's arms. Tiger's hands and mouth sought out every pleasure point, making her moan and writhe as he brought her slowly to a wondrous pinnacle of desire. Their lovemaking was fiery and wild, tender yet fierce. Only Tiger could excite her so, bring every sense alive. Their bodies fitted together like two parts of a whole.
    "Touch me," he insisted, taking her hand and pressing it to where he throbbed with blatant need. Isabella obeyed, thrilling again to the excitement of sharing such intimacies with the only man she would ever love. Perhaps tomorrow she would have doubts, but for this one moment out of time she was his. And he was hers alone.
    With a groan, he pressed his hand over hers. "Enough," he whispered hoarsely, rolling her onto her back and sliding inside her. "I never realized what I was asking of you. You drive me to insanity with your touch, my sweet witch."
    If she drove him to insanity, it was nothing compared to the effect he had on her. As he rose and fell with an exquisite rhythm, she met his every thrust, abandoning herself to the supreme joy, the absolute pleasure gained when two hearts soared to the place only lovers ever reached. To where the world di ssolved and all cares were cast aside.
    When Isabella returned to earth, they lay staring wordlessly at each other for what seemed like an eternity, each stroking the other's face. He seemed reluctant to separate their bodies, still keeping her imprisoned with his weight as he brushed back her damp hair, dropping small kisses on her nose, cheeks and eyelids. Isabella sighed. It had been a long time since she 'd known such peace; perhaps she never had known it before. 
    But then Lily's coarse laughter invaded the idyll. The sharp sound grated on Isabella's nerves, bringing her back to her senses. Remorse and shame hit her. She tried to push Tiger away, but he refused to budge, holding her imprisoned with his body.
    "What is it?" he asked, a note of uncertainty clouding his tone.
    "What is it? How can you ask? I 'm no better than Lily," she snapped. "Get off me." She thumped at his arm, but he still would not allow her up.
    "Don 't ever lump yourself in with that doxie." He went onto his elbows, relieving her of most of his weight, and gave her an exasperated look. "I told you long ago that I changed my ideas about that."
    Isabella made a soft sound of derision, then forcefully pushed again at his shoulders. This time he rolled away.
    "Bella, don't go," he begged, catching hold of her by the wrist. With his thumb he traced a circle on the place where her pulse thrummed.
    "You took advantage of me while I was in a low state," she shot at him in a fierce whisper, knowing she talked nonsense.
    "I took advantage?" With a soft curse he let her go. She felt around for the clothes she'd so carelessly discarded. "You were as eager for me as I for you. It's always been so between us and always will be."
    Isabella pulled her dress over her head. "No, Tiger. Don't touch me again, do you hear? Why is it you do this to me?"
    "I do nothing to you that you don 't desire as much as I. Stay Bella, please."
    Isabella knew she must ignore the thread of pleading in his voice, or be lost again. She could not let him own her body as he already owned her soul. How could she let him take her over every time he so decided?
    For one brief moment she stared down at him, at his magnificent flesh gleaming in the moonlight, then, clutching the rest of her garments to her breast, she ran.
    He was tugging his breeches on as she went into her tent. She ignored his soft call, pressing her pa lms to her ears as she lay beside Tim and Agnes.
    In the name of heaven, what was wrong with her? The answer to that was simple. He was in her blood same as he swore she was in his. How could she ever fight something as inevitable as day