“We can’t be too far from the cave entrance. Come.” He planted one last kiss on her lips and let her go, then squinted at the sun, climbing up from morning. “Southeast.”
He set off, angling into the new light. The hillside sloped down to a gully lined with scrubby brush and grasses that led roughly in the direction they wanted to go. She could not believe how good it felt to stride out, to feel the sunshine against her skin.
Alex paused and cocked his head, as if listening to something. Wind ruffling the grasses, a hawk’s cry high overhead…and then she heard it, too. The thump of hoofbeats, snatches of voices ahead and—
“Pen!” she cried, picking up her skirts in both hands and breaking into a run.
Alex was right beside her as they rounded a boulder-strewn curve. There, on the trail below. Pen, unharmed—and what looked to be half the village, leading donkeys laden with shovels and supplies. Relief chased the last chill from her bones.
Caroline dropped her skirts and waved both arms over her head. “Here! We’re up here!”
One head, then another turned her way, and with whoops and glad calls the throng began scrambling up the hillside. She felt Alex at her back, a strong, steady presence, and then they were surrounded. Rapid-fire Greek swirled around her, but she let him answer the questions and went to fold Pen into her arms. The girl was pale, her eyes red-rimmed, but she grinned up at Caroline.
“I knew it! Niko was certain you and Mr. Trentham had been crushed, but I wouldn’t believe it. I just knew you were alive.”
“You were right—and you seem to have convinced the villagers of it as well. Heavens, did they all come on the rescue?”
“A few stayed behind.” Pen glanced at the cheerful crowd, and then her gaze returned to Caroline. “But where were you? We called and searched but couldn’t find any trace. I was so worried.”
“Alex and I took cover in a crevice that led to a small cave, then were trapped by the falling rock. This morning we discovered a way out.”
It sounded so simple, but in truth those hours together seemed a great divide, separating her past from her future. She had been transformed through water, fire and dark, through the feel of his lips, his hands, the very act of surrendering her body to him and accepting his own surrender in turn.
She raised her head to find him watching her, his dark blue eyes holding a secret only she could read.
~*~
“Come in.” Caroline caught Alex’s hand and tugged him over the threshold of her rooms at the villa. “I’ll light the candles and we can sit on the balcony.”
Though in truth she wanted nothing more than to lead him straight to her bed, peel the coat and shirt off his broad shoulders, and re-explore every inch of his body. But they were no longer in a world of their own. The villagers still reveled outside and Pen could come up at any time…. She let out a sigh, but locked the door behind them.
The bedroom was full of evening shadows, but before she could strike a match Alex caught her up in his arms and placed his mouth over hers. Dear heavens, how quickly her body woke to his touch. She wound her hands behind his neck and pressed against him, demanding more.
Tongues explored, hot and wet, while his hands laid firm caresses up her body, coming to rest over her breasts. Already she could feel the tightness of desire running through her, her nipples taut behind the demure cotton of her dress, her full skirts hiding the heat budding within her. She pressed her hips against him and felt his immediate response.
Bodies fused together, he maneuvered her backward until she felt the edge of the bed bumping her legs. What luxury it would be to come together on a featherbed covered in clean sheets, all the little discomforts melting away in delightful softness.
“Ah,” she breathed against his open mouth, and let herself tumble back.
He came down over her, elbows braced to either side, hands busy sliding out her hairpins. “You are so lovely.” His voice was low and rough with emotion. “Caroline, beautiful Caro.”
He ran his fingers through her loosened hair, then tugged, tilting her head so her throat was exposed to his hungry kisses. Desire pulsed through her, a deep and utter need for this man that two days ago she would have found shocking. How had he so quickly become as essential to her as water, as air?
His lips moved over her skin, trailing heated, tantalizing kisses along the neckline of her dress, and she moaned softly, arching up against him. With one swift motion he set his hands to her hips and scooted her fully onto the bed, then lay beside her, his leg pinning hers. The bulge of his arousal pressed against her hip as he began unfastening the buttons of her dress. Bent to his task, a dark lock fell over his forehead and she smoothed it back, then tangled her fingers through his hair. It was growing too dim to see his face clearly, and she bit back a rueful laugh.
“What is it?” His hands stilled.
She moved restlessly under his touch. “I was wondering if we must always come together in the dark. I’d light a hundred candles to see you by, if I could.”
She remembered those glimpses of him in all his nakedness, the lantern light flowing over his tautly muscled skin. She wanted to be able to look deeply into his eyes. There were still so many things unsaid between them, despite how their bodies had spoken. Questions she needed to know the answers to.
But time was running out.
A burst of laughter outside made Alex turn his head toward the window. The festivities were still in full force, the singing, violin-like sound of the lyra, accompanied by bells and drums, voices raised in gladness. On the way back from the cave someone had proposed a full-scale celebration, and so tables had been dragged out into the streets and food laid out in copious amounts.
She had sipped at her glass of ouzo, but the only intoxication she desired was the touch of this man lying beside her. His hands traced her curves, lingering, although he still had his face turned to the window, listening and alert.
She pulled his head down and brushed her lips over his.
Such a light touch, but it was enough to spark flashes of sensation all through her. Him, too, it seemed, for he returned his attention to undressing her. All thought of the outside world banished once again; she gave herself over to the feelings he aroused.
The evening air was a cool breath over her naked skin as he folded back the bodice and pulled her chemise down, baring her breasts to the night, to his touch. A shiver of delicious pleasure went through her as he cupped her and stroked his thumb over, and a glorious shudder when he bent and put his hot mouth on her, laving her nipple to a nearly unbearable tightness. She sighed, a breathy moan caught in the back of her throat, and he responded by moving to lie more fully over her, his legs on either side, his body pressing hers into the soft bedding.
It was perfect, and it was not nearly enough. She tugged at his shirt until she could slip her hands up under the fabric and caress him, setting her palms to his firm stomach, then around, skimming his hips and pulling him closer between her legs. Ah, how good it felt, his hardness pressing just there. And how wanton she was, writhing and sighing and pulling him against her secret, womanly places.
She didn’t care, not one whit. In fact, she wanted him even closer, skin to skin, nothing between their two bodies. Her dress was undone to her waist now, his firm hands circling and caressing her.
“I want you,” she murmured. “Like in the cave.” She squirmed, pushing her dress down until the fabric slid past her hips.
He rose over her and pulled the dress off, leaving her in her thin chemise and shivering—not with the growing coolness of the dusk air, but the anticipation of him touching her, filling her. His face was tense with some emotion she could not name, and he did not stop her when she set her hands to his waist and began slipping his trouser buttons free. Soon he was more naked than she, the straight hardness of him freed. Hot and rigid. She slipped her hand around him and gently squeezed. There was a bead of moisture at the tip, and she smoothed her fingertip over it, heard his sharp int
ake of breath.
What power, to take a man in her hands and give him—she hoped—the same kinds of sensations, the heat and desire. She began to stroke up and down, his breath keeping time for her, faster, faster….
“Enough,” he said, voice hoarse. He pulled her hands away, pinning them together over her head and holding them with one hand. The other slid down, caressing, fondling, skimming over her curves. He caught the edge of her chemise and pulled it up, baring her legs and the throbbing place between. “Your turn.”
He began with the inside of her thighs, light strokes that ended tantalizingly close to her center, just short of the place she needed. A little moan escaped her and she tilted her hips, trying to make him touch her there.
“Patience.” She heard the smile in his voice.
“At least I was not afraid to put my hands right on you.”
“Fear has nothing to do with it. I’m only taming you slowly. Very slowly.”
“Taming? I’m not wild.” Her voice hitched with need.
He brushed his hand across the juncture of her legs, letting his fingers stroke for a bare second against her before moving away again. She felt another moan rise in her throat—a moan, or a growl.
“I meant the opposite—you will be the veriest wild creature under my hand. Starting now.” He released her and his touch grew firmer as he took her legs and moved them apart, spreading her wide and wanton across the bed. Now his fingers moved unerringly to caress her, rubbing gently, insistently. Heat sizzled through her, spiraling out from where he touched.
She grabbed the coverlet, bunching the material under her hands as his knowing fingers wound her like a pocket watch. Tighter, tighter…
Coolness between her legs as he took his hands away, changed position. The tip of him nudging against her. Filling her as he surged forward.
“Alex,” she gasped.
He braced himself over her, then began moving, his hardness stroking back and forth, hips meeting, then pulling away. It was still strange to feel him inside her, and yet so very pleasurable. She rocked her hips, accommodating him, rising to meet each stroke, silently urging him to go deeper, faster. Yes, like that. Pleasure building in her again, rising up from a deeper place this time.
The falling darkness, the fact that she would be leaving impossibly soon—none of it mattered. Only now and here, the two of them breathing fast and low, moving toward a shared star burning on the horizon. Closer, closer until they imploded. Caroline heard him cry out even as she reached that searing heat, the white-hot brightness that meant their coming together was complete.
The room was very quiet. He lay over her, heart beating, skin warm against hers. She must have drowsed, for when she opened her eyes again he was lying beside her and a single candle on the table shed light over the sheets. He smiled at her and began running his hand lightly up and down her arm.
“Alex?” She laid her hand against his cheek.
They had shared so much these last weeks. Flashes of their conversations by the sea, the afternoon he had taken her swimming. The perilous journey across the bay, driven by the southern winds. The way she had begun to feel he was a friend, to know him more deeply each day. And their lovemaking in the cave—the joining that had changed everything.
She could not bear the thought of sailing away without him. She must ask him, she must.
“Hmm?” His voice was relaxed, and fear almost stilled her voice. She did not want to see him withdraw, as he had every time England was mentioned. But she could not leave without asking.
She took a deep breath. “Come with me—back to England. I hate the thought of being so far from you. There must be something for you there and I…I want to be with you.”
The instant the words left her mouth, she knew it had been a mistake, could feel it in his sudden stillness, the tautness of his face. She pressed her lips together, but it was too late to call the words back, to swallow them unsaid. “I mean—”
“No.” The word was like a rock. Unyielding.
She swallowed, her fingers trembling where she touched him. She could feel him pulling away, in spirit if not body, and closed her eyes to shut out the sight of his expression. Distant now. Shadows gathering about him once more.
She had thought what they had experienced together had changed him as much as it had changed her. But she had been a fool, she could see it now. Whatever they had shared, it was not enough. Not enough to remove the haunted look from his eyes. Not enough to ease his pain. Not enough to make him love her.
As she loved him.
Dear heavens, as she loved him. The knowledge sliced through her, pierced her heart and left her gasping silently.
“Please.” She had not meant to speak it and bit down hard as the word slipped between her teeth.
He pulled away and began dressing himself, the movements rough and hurried.
“I will not return to England. Ever.” His expression was shuttered. “But it is time you left Crete.”
If her heart were still whole, the words would have broken like glass inside her. Instead they dropped heavily into the air between them and she had no answer. She watched him pull his shirt on, hopelessness wrapping her, squeezing the breath from her lungs. This was worse than being trapped in a cave beneath the earth. No chance of rescue, no chance of breaking free into brightness. The set of his mouth, the way he thrust his feet into his boots—he would not reconsider.
She sat up, pulling the covers about her, vulnerable and naked. “Why?” The word scraped her throat.
“You will never know. Be grateful for it.” His voice was hoarse, filled with old pain. He moved to the door, paused. “Manolis will take you and Pen to Agia Galini tomorrow. Goodbye, Caroline.”
No.
It could not end like this. She reached one hand toward him, but he shook his head, his raven-dark hair catching a stray gleam of light.
“Goodbye.” The door closed soundlessly behind him.
She was too full of grief to cry, could only curl into the bed, the place where he had lain still warm, the scent of him clinging to the sheets. She burrowed in, trying to hold tight to those last echoes of his memory, but soon the night air stole even those from her. The bed was cold.
She was alone.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
London, May 1848
The city was crowded, hazed with coal smoke and full of the clattering din of wheels over cobblestones. It was so different from Crete that Caroline felt utter relief, even through the weariness of travel. She almost felt she had dreamed her time away—almost, except for the leaden weight she carried where her heart used to beat. The constant ache made her wish she had never left London, never met the dark doctor with his haunted eyes, never let him enfold her in his arms.
The trip back to England had taken a lifetime. They had stopped three days on Malta, where Maggie was completely involved in founding the Valletta Children’s Home. Not only had she secured permission for the orphanage, but several prominent local families had committed funds for its construction. She had engaged another companion and a secretary, and it was clear she would remain on Malta for some time yet.
It also had not escaped Caroline’s notice that the handsome older captain, attaché to the governor there, had become a valuable ally to her friend—and more, if their shared smiles were any indication. The particular looks she caught between them made her feel hollow and weary.
There had been nothing to keep her on Malta. It was a relief to board the sailing steamer and continue the sad journey home.
Thank heaven for Pen. She had proven a perfect traveling companion, full of enthusiasm for each new sight. She had helped Caroline muster a smile and the energy to rise from her narrow bed each morning. And though she caught the girl giving her thoughtful looks, Pen did not pry, and for that she was grateful.
Perhaps someday she would be able to speak of Alex, to think his name without it piercing her soul. But not now. Not for a long time yet.
Now, finally
, they were back in England. Home. As she and Pen disembarked, she saw the familiar figure of Uncle Denby making his way to them through the crowds at the dockside, trailed by two footmen.
“Caroline, my dear.” He folded her into a warm embrace of welcome. “I am relieved to have you home safe at last.”
She let herself lean against him a moment, but the time had passed when she could take a child’s comfort in his steady presence.
“Uncle, it’s so good to see you. Let me introduce Miss Penelope Briggs, of whom I wrote you. She is my new companion and secretary, and doing splendidly at both.”
“A pleasure to meet you.” Uncle Denby took Pen’s hand and pressed it between his own. “We owe you a debt of kindness for helping Caroline. You are most welcome to stay with us at Twickenham House, if you would.”
Watching him, Caroline felt a pang of memory. This was the man who had taken in two bereft children years ago and had unstintingly made them feel a part of the family. She and her brother owed him much for that kindness. It pleased her to see him treat Pen so, and at the same time she was washed in a thin melancholy. She was grown, changed—seeing Pen’s grin of delight only underscored the fact. Uncle Denby and Twickenham House could no longer be the refuge they once were.
“Come, my dears. Home awaits. Along with a large pile of correspondence for you, Caroline.” Her uncle waved them toward the waiting carriage emblazoned with the earl’s coat of arms, while the footmen loaded their trunks. “I have no doubt you will want to freshen up and get settled.”
“Good thing I have my new secretary at hand to assist me.” Plunging into a mountain of letters and invitations actually sounded appealing. She was ready for something to occupy her hours.
The carriage pulled up before the warm grey stone of Twickenham House, the familiar sight easing something within her. The entry was spacious and filled with light, and the butler, Jenkins, seemed pleased to see her, in his usual reserved fashion. Mrs. Beale, the housekeeper, was waiting by the stairs to reassure Caroline that her rooms were in order—and yes, they had received her letter and had all in readiness for Miss Briggs as well. Caroline thanked her, then led Pen up to the family wing and her new room, just down the hall.
To Heal a Heart Page 17
