“Never mind,” she said, giving her head a shake.
He crouched down in front of her again and reached out to take hold of her chin. His hand was warm and his grip strong and, though it was more of a possessive touch than a tender one, it felt more welcomed than she expected.
“I will say it again and again until it burrows deep inside you and you never doubt it. I won’t leave you, Crista.”
One day you will.
The thought sent a terrible dread through her that confused her all the more.
“Never,” he whispered and his thumb grazed her bottom lip as he released her chin, then stood.
His hood went up as he turned and walked away and she was glad he didn’t turn and look back to see how the casual slip of his thumb made her shiver. Or had it been on purpose? Had the pad of his thumb purposely grazed her lip like a tender kiss?
“There you go being foolish again, Crista,” she chastised herself.
She wished this was done and she was with her family. She laughed again. Here she was wishing to return to strangers when she was with a man who knew more about her than they probably ever would. Was it any wonder she got upset at leaving him? She had adapted to her circumstances and grown comfortable with him as she had with Ricardo and Lucia.
How was it that she had never adapted to the convent? She hadn’t felt comfortable there from the time she had arrived and all throughout the limited time she had spent there. After the attack, she had forced herself to attend lessons at the convent, finding every excuse she could think not to go and getting away with a few. She believed her attendance there—the lessons—were useless, that they would serve no purpose. While the lessons Ricardo and Lucia taught her would serve her well. She had reached that conclusion after much thought and years of nothing more than a few letters from her mother. She believed her parents didn’t want her and that she’d never go home again.
This time she didn’t even realize she was shaking her head. Decisions had constantly been made for her and that wouldn’t change. Her parents would continue to decide what was best for her, not what she might want, but what they knew best. How could they know what was best for her when they didn’t even know her?
That was why she had loved being part of Ricardo and Lucia’s family. They had given her the freedom to explore and be herself. Not that there hadn’t been rules, but not stifling ones. And there had been hugs and praise, and so much love.
She had asked Lucia once if she would ever send one of her children away to live far from her like her mother had done to her.
Lucia had looked at her with sad eyes and told her that she wouldn’t want to face such a heartbreaking decision. But if circumstances called for it, it would be her child’s best welfare that decided it.
Crista stood with a stretch. After a while she had given little thought to her parents and why they had sent her away. It had been the letter telling her that she was to return home that had got her thinking more about it.
Resentment had settled in when Sister Bernadette instructed her to lie. She was ordered not to tell her parents that she lived with Ricardo and Lucia while there, that the couple she had come to love would get in trouble.
She had wondered if it was Sister Bernadette who would be the one in trouble for deceiving her parents, but Crista didn’t want to take the chance of anything happening to Ricardo and Lucia and their family. She had given Sister Bernadette her word and had advised her to seek confession for her lie. The nun had paled, then her cheeks had grown red, and she had warned Crista to mind her tongue with those who knew better than she.
It seemed that everyone knew better than she did. She wanted to make her own decisions even if some proved unwise. At least she’d have a chance to learn from them.
She decided to take a brief walk to keep her leg from growing stiff and painful. She didn’t intend to go far, since she didn’t want to get lost. She followed the path that Diablo had taken when he led her to the stream, not that she had any intention of going anywhere near the rushing water. It was that the path was somewhat familiar and so she followed it for a short walk.
Crista was about to collect some of the yellow poppies but they looked so lovely with their bright blooms stretching to the sun and nestled together, that she couldn’t bear to rip them from their home and family. Instead she sat on a nearby rock and admired their beauty.
The mountains provided a source of tranquility and a gentle quiet that soothed the soul. She let her worries drift away and enjoyed the peaceful moment.
She was about to bid the poppies farewell when she heard what sounded like a cat—a large cat.
She turned her head slowly and on a rock, high above her head to the left, stood a mountain lion, its dark eyes locked on her. She knew little of mountain lions, leaving her at a disadvantage. She did know cats, Ricardo having many around the farm. They could pounce unexpectedly, leaving you with a good scratch, though this cat would leave more than a simple scratch.
Instinct warned her not to make any sudden moves. Cats liked to be left alone and were only affectionate when they wanted to be. If she remained as she was—unthreatening—perhaps the cat wouldn’t bother with her.
A sudden, sharp crack had the cat screeching and running off.
She turned and saw Diablo recoiling his whip with the ease of a man skilled at using it as he marched toward her. He shoved his hood off his head just before reaching her, his dark eyes burning with annoyance.
“What are you doing away from the shack?” he demanded, grabbing hold of her arm.
“A brief walk to stretch my leg so it doesn’t stiffen on me,” she explained. “I planned on being back before your return, the large cat thought otherwise.”
“Mountain lions rarely bother humans. They prefer the deer that roam the mountains, but one never knows. It’s better to avoid them when possible.” His hand slipped from her arm down to take her hand as if used to doing so. “Does your leg pain you?”
“No, it does well and I want to keep it that way,” she said, her hand closing around his with an eagerness that took her a moment to realize. Had she missed holding his hand, having this brief touch of intimacy with him?
“You will remain near the shack any time I’m gone,” he ordered. “When you need to stretch your leg with a walk, I will take you.”
Though he ordered her, she understood his concern. Her tongue finished the rest of her thought. “It’s probably for the best that I get accustomed to my freedom being restricted. My parents no doubt will do the same upon my return.”
“I’m not your parent,” he snapped.
“No you’re my—”
“I’m not your abductor either,” he interrupted with a harsher snap.
She turned a light smile on him. “No, you’re not. You’re my rescuer.”
A rumbling almost growling laugh preceded his words. “The devil doesn’t rescue. He takes what is his.”
Crista lay in bed wondering over Diablo’s earlier words.
He takes what is his.
Did he believe she belonged to him? But the devil wouldn’t return something that he believed belonged to him. She lay there not able to rationalize it, not able to get it off her mind, not able to sleep.
As usual her tongue got going before she could control it.
“Diablo,” she whispered softly in case he slept so as not to wake him, but enough to be heard if he was awake.
“Go to sleep, Crista.”
His harsh order didn’t deter her. “One question.”
“It’s never one question.”
“I’ll try to keep it to one, promise,” she said.
“What is it that robs us both of sleep?”
“What did you mean when you said that the devil doesn’t rescue. He takes what is his?”
“Do you forget what I said when I took you from those men?”
She recalled the words then in a soft whisper, “She’s mine.”
“Those men never sought permission
to abduct you, but whatever they steal, take, claim, is given to me before they get what I allow them. You’re mine. You belong to the devil.”
“But you never intended to keep me,” she argued.
“That doesn’t matter. You still belong to me until I let you go.”
“Then I’ll no longer belong to you and you’ll no longer need to rescue me,” she said, her hand going to rest at her chest to rub at the pain that suddenly settled there.
“I’ll always rescue you, Crista.”
“Not really. I’ll never see you again once I’m returned to my family. I would say I could rescue myself, but I learned that’s not always possible. Sometimes you need someone to rescue you.”
“You have the devil. You need no one else.”
He said it with such confidence that she almost believed him, but the truth was she would return to her family and he would vanish. She would never see him again.
She fell asleep with a heavy heart and more confused than ever.
Diablo listened to her breathing turn soft and easy. He was glad sleep finally claimed her and he would be relieved when all was settled and she was returned to her brother. It was getting more difficult by the day to ignore the growing feelings inside him for her.
When he had returned to the shack and found her gone, his first thought had been that she had run off. But he had quickly dismissed it. She had left the campsite out of fear of being deserted, that was not the case now. He had easily followed her trail and fear had twisted his heart when he had seen the mountain lion looking as if it was about to pounce on her. He hadn’t hesitated, he pulled his whip and snapped, knowing the animal would run in fear, but ready to protect her if it proved necessary.
She’s mine.
He meant it then and he meant it now. The devil had no intentions of letting Crista go.
He rested his head back against the door and closed his eyes. Sleep often eluded him, mostly he dozed, remaining alert to everything around him, a necessity for an outlaw.
“Stop!”
He was on his feet in a flash hearing her call out and not more than two steps had him next to the bed. She lay hugging the blanket, her eyes scrunched and her body jumping as if being struck. She was reliving the beating she had taken.
“Please! Please stop!”
Her child-like pleading tore at his heart. He couldn’t let her suffer. He hurried out of his boots and eased her in his arms as he slipped in bed beside her.
“You’re safe, Crista, you’re safe,” he whispered softly, hugging her tight against him and placing kisses along her brow. “I’ll let no one hurt you.”
She whimpered, her arms going around him and burying her face against his chest.
“Don’t leave me,” she begged, pressing so hard against him that he could feel her taut nipples poking through her blouse and his shirt.
“Never, Crista, never will I leave you.” It was an oath not only to her but to himself. He’d never leave her. “Your mine and always will be.”
“Always,” she whispered and kissed his neck.
Her innocent kiss aroused him and it didn’t help that she was pressed tight against him, his manhood snug in the sweet crevice of her legs. It was good they were both clothed or he didn’t think he’d be able to resist bringing them both to pleasure.
He was glad when her body went limp with sleep. He’d stay there for a while in case her nightmare returned.
Crista woke, her cheek resting against Diablo’s. Her eyes went wide. Why was he in bed with her? It took only a moment for her to recall her nightmare. He had gotten in bed with her to comfort and reassure her.
The devil wouldn’t do that. Only a man who cared, who had a heart would do that.
He truly was beautiful and she studied every part of his face, sealing it to memory so when he was gone from her life, she would always have him in her mind’s eye. She’d also keep to memory the way they laid there, their bodies tight against each other, the feel of her breasts pressed against his muscled chest and how his arm coiled strong and protective around her.
This was a memory she wanted to hold close to her heart, sear in her mind, and never forget it. Wrong as it might be, it felt right, felt so natural like it was meant to be and that was the most difficult for her to understand. How could this feel right and be so wrong?
She gently lifted a strand of his dark hair and sniffed it, the scent rich with pine, before carefully placing it behind his ear. After that she couldn’t keep from running her finger lightly over his dark, arched eyebrow or along his sculpted cheekbone. She bit back the urge to touch any more of him, but it did no good. His lips were far too tempting not to at least run her finger faintly across them. It was better than giving into the temptation of her desperate need to kiss him.
She jumped when his hand suddenly shot up and grabbed her wrist in a tight grip.
“Don’t, Crista.”
She stared at his dark eyes, overwhelmed by the heat of passion that glowed in them, and she felt a sudden bulge dig at the apex of her legs.
He wanted her. There was no doubt in her mind about it.
She didn’t think, she raised her lips to his.
“I’m warning you,” he said.
“I don’t care.” She was surprised at how calm she sounded, since her insides stirred with apprehension and excitement. “I want to know a man of my choosing before I am made to wed a stranger.”
“You don’t want to mate with the devil.” He shoved her on her back, slipping over her and with his lips nearly on top of hers, whispered harshly, “You’ll belong to him forever.”
She gave no thought to her response. It slipped easily and willingly from her lips. “And the devil will belong to me.”
Her words were like a balm to his empty soul, never having belonged to anyone. Besides, the devil loved her innocence and wanted it for himself.
He climbed off her and stood, reaching to unbuckle his belt. “Strip off your clothes. I want you naked so I can see as I touch every part of you and rob you of your innocent soul.”
His words were meant to frighten her, make her think twice, give her one last chance to change her mind.
She got out of bed, without the slightest hesitation, and began to undress, sealing both their fate.
Chapter 15
Diablo watched, his hand stilled on his belt, as Crista shed her clothes, only the slightest of a tremor to her hands. He told himself to end this now. She was too innocent to know what she was doing. But as she stripped off each piece of clothing, he knew there wasn’t a chance in hell he’d stop this now.
But he had to give her one more chance to come to her senses and deny the devil.
His hand shot out to grab her neck and he was glad she gasped and fear lighted in her eyes. “You do understand what I’m going to do to you, don’t you Crista?” He didn’t give her a chance to respond, he continued. “My hands are going to touch all of you, inside and out, and my lips and tongue are going to sear you in places you never thought either would go. And you’re going to beg me—beg me—to take you and I will, piercing you down to your soul and claiming you mine forever.”
Crista stared at him, fear running along her flesh prickling it, and moisture settled between her legs along with an aching throb.
“One last chance, Crista. Tell the devil you don’t want him. Tell him to go to hell where he belongs.”
Bravery, fear, foolishness—love? Crista didn’t know what made her respond, she only knew the truth spilled from her lips.
“I can’t do that. I want the devil. I have for a while now.” She didn’t need courage for what she said next, it came naturally, instinctively. “Besides—I think I love the devil. He stirs things in me I never felt before and I feel safe with him.” She rested her hand on his arm, his hand still clasped at her neck. “This is a decision, reckless, foolish, or the wisest I ever made, that I make entirely of my own free will.”
Diablo dropped his brow to hers, words failing him. It
was the first time a woman had ever mentioned love to him and it stabbed at his heart with a pleasure that pained him.
“Are you sure?” He had to ask again, thinking this all nothing more than a dream and he’d wake disappointed.
“I’m sure I want to make love with you. I’m sure I want it to be you who takes my virginity, and if I listen to what my heart tells me, then I’m sure I’ve fallen in love with you.”
Diablo stepped away from her and stripped off his clothes.
Crista didn’t turn away, she stared at him, all of him, though a bit of fear once again prickled her flesh. His rod stuck out thick and powerful and she wondered how it would ever fit inside her.
She was up in his arms before she could worry over it and placed down on the narrow bed, Diablo slipping over her, bracing his hands on either side of her head and bringing his lips down on hers.
It was a hungry, punishing kiss as if letting her know he’d or they’d been denied too long since she returned the kiss with the same punishing need. She combed her hands through his hair to the back of his head to hold it tight, not wanting the kiss to end.
He moved his lips off hers and whispered, “Now to kiss and taste all of you.”
She had thought his words had meant to frighten her away, when he had first said them. After all, there were places lips and tongues didn’t go. Or did they?
She shuddered when his lips nibbled along her neck, his teeth nipping there now and again and moving down along her shoulder, another shudder rushing through her when he took a playful nip there. It was when he reached her breasts and his mouth settled over one nipple, his tongue circling around it before he suckled it hard that she arched against him and gasped when she felt his hard shaft poke at her. He took his time at both breasts as if he enjoyed them far too much to leave them, but when he did it was with kiss after kiss down along her stomach.
His hand followed along her arms while his lips were busy at her midriff and stomach. He caressed them with the most delicate of touches like a feather being brushed over her skin until his hands settled on her hips.
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