Then the touch was back, parting her thighs, stroking her gently, opening her with an eagerness that held a hint of restrained savagery. He was between her thighs. The powerful muscles that corded his own thighs were taut against her softness. She couldn't see his bulk looming above her and somehow that only added to the erotic excitement. She could see only in her mind's eye the pelt of auburn hair that covered his chest, the sensual heaviness of his face, the sheer massive size of him that made her feel small and helpless in comparison. She couldn't see him but she could feel him nudging against the heart of her. For an instant there was a flicker of memory that caused her to tense. Then it was gone. Because there wasn't anything in the past that bore the slightest resemblance to what she was experiencing now. New. Everything was new and clean and as basic as if it were happening at the dawn of time. Daniel's magic again.

He was entering her carefully, trying not to hurt her with his sheer size. She could sense the care, the agonizing tension in him. His breath was coming in little rasps. He was trying to give her the gentleness he thought she wanted, she realized with a rush of tenderness. Even though the restraint was hurting him, he was trying to give to her. Well, she wanted to give to him also. Give and give until there was nothing left to offer. Hard and fast. He had said he liked it hard and fast.

Her hands suddenly closed on his hips, her nails digging into the hard flesh. "Daniel." Her voice was a soft yearning murmur in the darkness. "Come." Her hips surged upward, taking him with a boldness that brought a low cry from his lips. She felt like uttering the same cry, but she was afraid he would mistake it for pain. So full. Stretched, complete and yet still throbbing with emptiness. "Come ... to me." She could barely get the words out.

"Sweet heaven, Zilah." He shuddered. She could feel it within her, and it brought a quivering flutter to every nerve and limb. Together. How close they were. One flesh. "I'm going wild. I've never felt like this in my life. I'm afraid to let go. I'll hurt you, dammit."

"You won't hurt me." Her fingers tightened on his hips. "It's all right, Daniel."

"I hope so." She could feel the forces swirling about him in the darkness. Electricity gathering for the strike. "Because I can't stop myself now."

He plunged forward, wildness overcoming restraint as he took her with a force and beauty as hot and violent as the lightning to which she had mentally compared him. He was lifting her up to meet each strong thrust, grinding against her as if he wanted to reach beyond closeness to a unity that couldn't be broken as passion passed.

She was vaguely conscious that he was talking to her as he moved, telling her how sweet she was, how good she felt around him, of the other ways he was going to love her. His words were as hoarse and wild as the rhythm of his movements. Sometimes shockingly graphic, sometimes tender as a mother's kiss. She tried to help him, meet fire with fire, but once loosed, he overwhelmed her. It was like a tempest picking her up, tossing her from crest to crest, yet never letting her leave the center of power.

Lightning, power, strength that never conquered, beauty that never yielded. It couldn't go on. Yet it did. A moment. Forever. Darkness. Flame. Lightning again. A breathless shock that burned her to the core, then another, spreading, rippling in patterns of power. Daniel's power. So much power in one man, she thought feverishly. So much beauty and primitive need that— Then she could think no more as the lightning struck with a final blue-white force that absorbed the flame and the darkness and everything in the world except the man who wielded it.

She heard Daniel cry out and then felt the heavy weight of him upon her. His heart was beating so hard it appeared to be trying to burst from his chest. Or was that her own heartbeat? It was difficult to tell, so closely were they joined in body and spirit. He shifted off her and to the side, still holding her with possessive strength.

"Did I hurt you?" His question was gruff, but she could still detect the concern. "I didn't mean to be so rough. I think I went a little crazy."

Hurt? She didn't know if there'd been any pain or not. It had all been too world-shaking for her to separate the sensations she had been experiencing. She was conscious of a slight ache between her thighs now that Daniel had left her, but she wasn't certain whether it was soreness or an aching emptiness to be refilled. "You didn't hurt me."

"You're sure?" His palm reached between her thighs to rub her with loving gentleness. "You felt so good that I wanted to take every bit of you." His tone was rueful. "I think I tried to do just that. Next time

I'll try to act more the gentleman. You can see I'm not used to the role."

"I didn't mind." The words were so inadequate. She felt tongue-tied, and the tears were stinging behind her closed lids. How could she tell him what a precious gift he had given her? The final healing. It nad come so swiftly out of this darkness that had seemed suspended in time. Her own need to give comfort to Daniel had flowed effortlessly into the giv-ing of her body as well. Giving. That was the key. It was being taken that was the horror. Giving was beautiful. Giving was love. Her lips curved in a smile of radiant tenderness invisible to him in the dark-ness. And Daniel had given her that beauty. He had been rough and passionate as a storm at sea yet he had still given as well as taken. Why was he worrying so about a roughness that she had instigated herself? "You were upset."

He stiffened. His hand ceased its intimate petting motion and dropped away from her. "And you sorry for me," he said with soft violence. Dammit, you felt sorry for me!"

"No," she protested. "I mean, yes, I did feel sorry for you. I wanted to help you." He had rolled away from her, and she could hear him moving in the darkness, pulling on his clothes. "But that's not—"

"The hell it wasn't. You felt sorry for me." His voice was jerky. "My God, you even told me how grateful you were to me. So grateful you decided to give the guy a little tip for his trouble."

"A tip?" Zilah tried to smother the anger that flared at his choice of words. She sat up. "I don't give tips of that nature." Her voice was taut with pain.

"Contrary to what you may think, I am not a whore."

"Oh, hell, I've done it again." The light of the lantern snapped on to reveal Daniel kneeling in front of her. He was dressed, with the exception of his shirt.

His hair was a tousled mass of flame and his eyes were narrowed in concern on her face. "I've hurt your feelings, haven't I? I'm sorry. I guess my damn pride got in the way. I couldn't stand the thought of being a charity case. It brings back too many memories." "Memories?"

The light of the lantern struck sleek shadows over his naked shoulders as he shrugged. "I was an orphan from the time I was six. I guarantee that it doesn't give you a liking for being on the receiving end." His gaze wandered down her body to rest with compulsive intensity on the soft velvet folds that his hand had so recently caressed. His tongue ran over his lips to moisten their sudden dryness. "On the other hand, there's a distinct possibility I could change my mind given the right set of circumstances. You're lovely, Zilah."

She felt a familiar tingling begin where his gaze was caressing her. "You're not very steadfast."

"Oh, but I am." His gaze flew back to her face, and he answered with surprising gravity. "I'm as steadfast as the North Star. Once my course is set, I don't change. Remember that."