Lazz's Contract Marriage (The Dante Inferno: The Dante Dynasty Series Book 4)

by Day Leclaire

  She capped the water and handed it back to him. “Thank you for coming to find me.”

  Did she think he wouldn’t? He tucked her close to help warm her up. “You’re my wife.”

  “Not really.”

  His mouth tightened. “You’re my wife,” he repeated, more strongly this time. “I wouldn’t leave you out alone in this.”

  Ariana fell silent for a few minutes. Then she said, “I could feel you, you know. I could feel you coming for me.”

  Just as he’d felt her. Lazz didn’t want to admit what he considered instinct might have been enhanced by something else. Something more. Something that caused his palm to itch and desire to cling to him like a second skin. Something that made him want to sweep her into his arms and carry her to safety. To strip off her clothes and warm her with his touch. To complete what remained incomplete between them.

  “You must have heard me,” he attempted to explain away her reaction. “Or seen the flashlight beam.”

  She continued as though he’d never spoken. “I was afraid and alone. And then I sensed you coming, and the fear and loneliness melted away. I knew if I waited a few more minutes you’d find me. And you did.”

  He wanted to deny her words, to deny the suggestion that whatever connected them might be The Inferno. The Inferno was a lie, the proof of that lie evident in his own parents’ marriage. His brothers might have been deluded into believing, into creating romantic fantasies out of plain, old-fashioned lust, but he was the most pragmatic of all the Dantes and he refused—refused—to allow his life to be controlled or dictated by a fantasy that could vanish as quickly as it had appeared.

  “You gave excellent directions, Ariana. It wasn’t hard to find you. In fact, if you hadn’t gotten turned around when you fell into the ravine, you’d have found your own way back to the cabin. It was just bad luck.”

  “Did you love her very much?” She waited a heartbeat before adding, “Caitlyn. Is that why you don’t believe me?”

  “Caitlyn is Marco’s wife.”

  “That doesn’t answer my question.”

  “No, I didn’t love her. Not really. Not the way Marco did. Does.” He forced himself to admit the truth. “And not the way Caitlyn loves Marco.”

  “But you believed she was your Inferno match, even if for a short time. You said you felt something for her once.”

  He dismissed Ariana’s comment with a restless shrug. “Yes, I felt something. And I deluded myself into thinking it might be The Inferno and she might be responsible. I was wrong.”

  “You told me it happened in Marco’s conference room, the morning after they were married. The day I was there with my father,” she added pointedly.

  “Yes.”

  “But you still don’t believe in The Inferno, do you? You refuse to consider that maybe what you felt was for me and not Caitlyn.”

  “I don’t believe, Ariana.” Thunder underscored his response. He continued to look at her, so she could read the truth in his gaze. “I never have and I never will.”

  “You must sense something,” she insisted. “I can’t be the only one of us experiencing whatever this is.”

  “It’s simple desire. We’re physically attracted to each other. We’re two people—two married people—confined in a limited space. To make matters more difficult, we made sex a condition of our marriage.”

  Her lush mouth twisted into a wry, self-deprecating smile. “I believe I made no sex a condition of our marriage.”

  “Am I sensing regret?”

  Lightning sizzled from the sky, striking close enough to fill the air with a sharp, metallic scent. He felt rather than heard Ariana’s swift inhalation. And then she curled into him, burying her face against his shoulder.

  “Yes, you sense regret,” came her muffled voice. “I regret every last one of those ridiculous conditions we agreed to. I regret not having met you instead of Marco all those months ago. I regret our parents ever signed that hideous contract. I regret that the first time we touched, the first time we kissed, was standing at the altar on our wedding day.”

  “I couldn’t agree more.” Lazz held her close, wrapping himself around her so she stayed safe and warm. “I’ve always wondered why Dad drafted that contract. Do you have any idea?”

  “None. If my father knows, he hasn’t said.”

  “I find it odd that Vittorio agreed to Dad’s proposition. Was it just the money?”

  She winced. “I’m sure that was part of it.” Pain bled into the words, and he realized on some level she must feel as though her father had betrayed her, allowing avarice to outweigh his love for his daughter. “He said it was something your father told him that finally convinced him to sign, but he refused to explain what. He claimed it wasn’t the right time.”

  Lightning flashed in the distance, and the thunder took a moment to rumble a response. Though the rain remained steady, it didn’t pound the ground the way it had only moments before. A deep gray seeped into the hillside, warning of the advent of dusk. Lazz stood and stripped the slicker off the branches above them. Shaking it out, he passed it down to Ariana.

  “Here, put this on.”

  “Are we leaving?” she asked in relief.

  “We’re going to give it a shot.” He checked his compass. “I’m hoping we can parallel the path on the other side of the ravine. The stream shouldn’t be too far along. Once we find that, we’ll be back to the cabin in no time.”

  After donning the slicker they’d been sitting on, he searched the underbrush for a sturdy branch Ariana could use as a walking stick. Then he slung the backpack over one shoulder while bracing his wife with the other. It had taken him a mere five minutes to traverse the distance from the stream to the ravine. Returning to that spot took a full thirty.

  Pain and weariness lined Ariana’s face as they rested on a mossy boulder near the stream. “I would never have made it without you. Thank you.” She regarded the stone-strewn path ahead of them, and her chin set into a determined line. “What do you say we tackle this next part before it gets any darker?”

  “I’d say you were pretty damn amazing, Mrs. Dante.” He dug in his backpack for another candy bar and handed it to her. “Eat this first, and then we’ll push off.”

  It took them two more hours to reach the cabin. Ariana’s legs buckled mere steps from the porch, and Lazz swung her into his arms. “Just another minute,” he reassured, “and I’ll have you in a nice hot tub.”

  She moaned in response. “Who knew I’d want to be any wetter than I already am. But a hot bath . . .”

  He shoved open the front door and carried her inside. “With bubbles.”

  “Stop. You’re killing me.”

  He reached for the light switch and flicked it on. Nothing happened. “Hell. It just figures.” He gently set Ariana down, helping her balance on her one good foot. “Looks like the storm knocked out the power.”

  “No bath?” she asked with surprising equanimity.

  “There should be enough hot water,” he reassured. “And as soon as I get the generator going, there’ll be more than enough.”

  Using his flashlight to guide him, Lazz carried her through to the bathroom and turned on the faucet. Sure enough, hot water came pouring out. He upended a jar of bath crystals, watching with interest as they exploded into bubbles. Then he shone the beam of light in Ariana’s direction. She stood awkwardly on one leg, laughter dancing in her dark eyes.

  “Too much bubble?”

  “A bit,” she conceded.

  “Do you need help getting in?”

  “You sound entirely too hopeful.” She shook her head. “If you’d leave me one of the flashlights, I should be fine.”

  “I can do better than that.” He shone the light toward a trio of squat candles grouped on the tile ledge that surrounded the tub. “Will that do?”

  Her sigh of pleasure was answer enough. “Perfect.”

  He left her to it while he powered up the generator. To his relief, it started with
ease. Finally, he went to the freezer and removed a bag of frozen corn, poured two glasses of wine and returned to the bathroom. He paused outside the door.

  “Cover up with bubbles. I’m coming in.” He heard a feminine yelp, followed by a soft splash. Grinning, he pushed open the door. “Hope you don’t mind.”

  “I do, as a matter of fact.”

  “Maybe this will help.” He handed her the wine. “Rest your ankle on the edge of the tub.”

  “Corn?”

  “Frozen corn.” Draping it across her ankle, he headed for the shower stall and began to strip.

  “What are you doing now?” Nervousness cascaded through her voice. She glanced over her shoulder and then whipped around again. “You’re taking off your clothes.”

  “True.” He paused deliberately. “I’m wet, filthy and tired. I’m taking a shower, assuming there’s any hot water left. And if there’s not, I’ll be wet, cold and tired. But at least I’ll be clean.”

  “Yes, of course,” she murmured in Italian. “I wasn’t thinking.”

  He smiled. Did she have any idea how much she gave away when she switched languages? “I could always join you in the tub,” he suggested.

  “Or not.”

  “There are enough bubbles in there for two. And considering the size of that thing, there’s more than enough room for both of us.”

  She sank lower in the tub. “You choose the oddest times to display your sense of humor.”

  “Huh. I could have sworn I was being dead serious.”

  He turned on the shower and braced himself. To his relief, it wasn’t as bad as he feared. Lukewarm, at best, but the illusion of warmth lasted long enough for him to scrub down. Once he’d dried off, he regarded his wife. Only the top of her head was visible above the dissipating layer of bubbles, not to mention one shapely leg.

  He grabbed a stack of towels and piled them within reach of the tub. “I’m going to start a fire. Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine. Thank you, Lazz.”

  She’d switched back to English. Glancing up, she managed to regard him with the sort of regal poise that must have been drummed into her from infancy. And yet, he could feel the want sizzling behind the facade.

  Something had changed as a result of what they’d gone through during the storm. They’d come out the other side and everything had been different. There’d always been a strong, sexual awareness between them—not The Inferno. Not a chance. But definitely an awareness. Now, that awareness had sharpened to a keen edge. One that was going to cut them if they didn’t do something to blunt it.

  “Call me if you need help getting out.” He paused at the door and shot her a wicked grin, one he hoped disguised how he really felt. “Looks like I should have used more bubble bath, not less.”

  Ariana glanced down and gasped.

  Embarrassing gaps had appeared in the bubbles. The tips of her breasts peeked through one of those gaps, while the curve of her hip and belly could clearly be seen through another.

  She shivered despite the warmth of the water. Humorous remarks aside, she’d never seen that look in Lazz’s eyes before. Sure, she’d seen awareness. Desire. But not to this extent. Not a bone-deep hunger that turned his eyes to jade. He wanted her. Badly. It showed in the tautness of his face and the ferocity of his gaze, as well as the rigid play of muscles across his impressive chest. It suggested a man hovering on the edge, clawing to hold himself in check.

  This time she shivered for real. The bathwater had gone from toasty to cool, and the bubbles were little more than a delicious memory. Even the bag of frozen corn sagged warm and soggy across her ankle.

  Levering herself onto the edge of the platform surrounding the tub, she grabbed a towel for her hair and wrapped a second one around herself. Her ankle felt better, at least enough for her to hobble out of the bathroom in search of clean clothes. The central portion of the cabin remained in darkness with only the flickering light from the fireplace to pierce the shadows.

  Lazz stood as she limped into the room. “You should have called me.”

  “I managed.”

  “Do you need help dressing?”

  Absolutely not. “I don’t think so, thanks.”

  He moved from his stance by the fireplace, and she lost him in the darkness, tracking him by voice alone. “I’ll go top off the generator while you change. Feel free to turn on a light if you want. I left them off to conserve fuel so we could keep the refrigerator and freezer running.”

  She offered a self-conscious smile. “Not to mention the hot water heater.”

  There was a stillness about him that unnerved her. A purposefulness. And she could practically taste the tension thickening the air. “That, too.”

  She clung to the edges of her damp towel. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt this awkward. Lazz must have sensed as much because he left the cabin without another word. Ariana didn’t waste any time. She limped to the dresser as quickly as her ankle would allow and dug through the drawers. She yanked out clothing at random, anything that would give her adequate coverage.

  She’d just finished dressing when an unearthly screech split the air, followed by a boom so violent it jolted the cabin right down to its foundations and literally knocked her off her feet. She lay on the floor, fighting for breath, not daring to move. Whatever just happened, it had killed the generator.

  The instant the thought entered her mind, she bolted upright and shrieked, “Lazz!”

  She scrambled to her feet and hobbled to the back door of the cabin. Turning the knob, she attempted to open it, but it wouldn’t budge no matter how hard she shoved. She threw her full weight against it, horrified when her actions made absolutely no impact. Something had wedged the door shut. She hammered on the wooden surface and shouted for Lazz, panic sweeping through her.

  He was out there. Whatever had caused that hideous noise and knocked out the generator, Lazz had been there when it happened. The flashlight. Where had she put her flashlight? She stumbled back toward the fireplace and found it on the table that fronted the love seat. Switching it on, she hurried to the front door and threw it open. The storm had circled back on itself and continued unabated, lashing the clearing and forest with wind and rain. Thunder rumbled, the rolling boom a far different sound than the one that had knocked her off her feet. Lightning forked a jagged path across the sky, and that’s when she saw him.

  Lazz came toward her through the rain, tall and broad and—as far as she could tell—undamaged. Ignoring the stab of pain from her ankle, Ariana shot across the porch, down the steps and into the storm. He broke into a run as she made a beeline for him. The next instant, he scooped her up into his arms.

  “Are you all right?” he demanded, urgency underscoring the question.

  “Fine. I’m fine. What about you?” Her hands raced over his face and down across the breadth of his shoulders, searching for any signs of injury. “Are you hurt?”

  “Nothing serious.” He hustled toward the porch. “Though it was a close call.”

  She knew she was crying, but hoped he attributed it to rain instead of tears. “What happened? What made that horrible sound?”

  “Tree came down. Took out the generator shed a few seconds before I got there.”

  The tears came faster. “It didn’t hit you? You’re sure you’re not hurt?”

  His arms tightened around her, holding her snug against his heart. She could feel the calming beat, the steady reassurance that he’d survived and was here with her, safe and sound. “I got brushed back by a few of the smaller branches. Nothing serious. But the tree blocked off the back of the cabin.”

  He carried her across the threshold and inside. The symbolism of his actions didn’t strike her until much, much later. “Show me. Show me this ‘nothing serious.’” Struggling free of his hold, she shoved at his jacket, tugging it off his shoulders, not even aware of her actions. “Show me where you were hit,” she demanded.

  He didn’t fight her. He must hav
e understood her fear and concern. “Across the shoulder. Right arm.”

  “Take off your shirt. Let me see.” She aimed the flashlight at his torso and waited. When he didn’t immediately move to comply, she added, “I’m serious, Lazz. Do it.”

  He gripped the bottom of his shirt and whipped it up and off. For some reason, he focused on a point over her shoulder, almost as though standing there before her, stripped to the waist, left him vulnerable on some level. She understood the feeling all too well, considering that not an hour ago their positions had been reversed. Now it was her turn to care for him.

  It took her a moment to regain her focus. She’d seen him bare chested any number of times. It still possessed the power to steal her breath away. Heaven help her but he was built. His jeans rode low on narrow hips, offering her plenty of viewing room.

  Strong, lean muscle rippled across the endless expanse of golden skin, begging for her touch. Soft against hard. Gentle overlaying power. She felt the piercing siren’s call of The Inferno—no, not The Inferno. Lazz had insisted it was lust, nothing more. No matter how she might long for it to be different, their feelings for one another weren’t the stuff of legend.

  Ariana forced herself to put aside foolish dreams and examine Lazz for any signs of injury. She found evidence almost immediately. Several gouges streaked across his shoulder and down his chest, while a bruise was already forming across his right bicep.

  The beam from the flashlight trembled. “You were hurt.”

  He glanced down and shrugged. “It’s nothing. Just a scratch.”

  Tentatively, she reached for him, stroking his chest with trembling fingertips. The instant she touched him, he froze. A harsh sound rumbled in his throat, and he closed his eyes. A tense second passed. And then he looked at her again, and she realized he’d lost the battle to hold himself in check.

  Gently, he reached for her. And just as gently, she surrendered.