by Day Leclaire
Helping Miri to her feet, Brandt urged her in the direction of the lake. “Come on. Let’s get cleaned up.”
“We don’t have anything to change into.” She glanced over her shoulder, shuddering. “All our clothes are burned.”
“There are towels in the boathouse. We can rinse the soot out of what we’re wearing and wrap up in towels while our clothes dry.”
He heard her take a deep breath and could literally see her gathering up her self-control. It showed in the stiffening of her spine and her proud carriage, the squaring of her jaw and the way she planted her hands on her hips. He could only shake his head as he watched, amazed at the undaunted perseverance that was such a natural part of her.
She scanned the area. “Is there a stream that feeds the lake?”
“A quarter of the way around,” he confirmed.
She nodded. “We can get fresh water from there. And I’ll bet if you have towels stashed in the boathouse, there’ll be fishing poles, too. We may have to rough it until help arrives, but we won’t starve or die of thirst.”
He smiled at the proof that her spirit had returned. It was one of the qualities he’d always admired about her. Nothing kept Miri down for long. They picked their way across the wild grass to the boathouse, only to discover a large padlock barring their entry.
“Forgot about this,” he said. “Hang on.”
He circled the structure until he found a decent-sized stone he could use to hammer off the lock. It only took a half dozen whacks before the clasp broke. Tossing the pieces aside, he opened the door. It was pitch-black inside.
“I don’t suppose there’s a light switch?” she asked.
“No. And I seem to have lost the flashlight I had earlier. But I vaguely remember keeping extras on a shelf just inside the door. Ah, here they are. Now if the batteries are still good.” The first was dead. The second emitted a weak beam that lasted long enough for them to collect a stack of towels and a tarp. “Come on. Let’s get rinsed off. Then we’ll set up a bed for the night.”
He led the way to a narrow beach adjacent to the boathouse, a sweeping sickle of imported white sand far softer than the rock-strewn ground closer to the cabin. He spread the tarp and padded it with towels.
Miri had wandered to the lake’s edge where the water lapped her bare feet. Overhead the moon sent a halo of silver spilling over her. A light wind stirred, wafting her soot-stained nightgown against her legs, outlining their shapely length, and lifting her hair in a rippling ebony flag. A flag of triumph, of survival. She glanced over her shoulder and tossed him a teasing grin. Then facing the lake, she waded in, looking like some sort of mythical sea nymph returning to her watery home.
She gave a small gasp as she sank to her waist, no doubt reacting to the chilly temperature. Then with a light splash that echoed across the lake, she vanished beneath the surface. He didn’t wait any longer to join her. Toeing off his shoes, he crossed the sand at a dead run and dove toward where he’d seen her go under.
They surfaced side by side, almost on top of each other. “Refreshing,” he said, pulling her into his arms.
Her nightgown swirled around them, then clung, anchoring them together. “More like freezing.” She scooped water into her hands and washed the grime from his face and neck, scrubbing at a spot just beneath his jaw. Her fingers slowed. Lingered. Traced the harsh planes and angles of his face as though they were the most beautiful sight in the world. “There. Much better.”
He pointed to the corner of his mouth. “You missed a spot.”
“So I did.” Using his shoulders for leverage, she surged upward long enough to kiss the place he’d indicated. “I think I got it.”
Not even close. But she would soon enough. “Your turn,” he informed her.
Settling his feet on the lake bottom, he started with her face, skimming deftly across her forehead, then down her nose and finally across her arching cheekbones. He paused at her lips, replaced his hands with his mouth, and kissed her. Inhaled her. Lost himself in the honeyed flavor of her.
“I don’t know what I’d have done if I’d lost you,” he said, the words rough with emotion.
She buried her face against the crook of his shoulder. “Watching the cabin burn, believing you were trapped inside…” He could hear the traces of horror lingering in her voice. “I’ve never been more frightened in my life.”
He gathered the wet nightgown tangled around her and in one smooth motion, pulled it over her head and tossed it to the lakeshore. Now that they’d rinsed their clothes, they didn’t need them anymore. He let go of her just long enough to strip off his slacks and shirt before sending them chasing after her nightgown.
“Shouldn’t we hang those—” she began.
“No, we shouldn’t. There are more important things for us to do tonight than hang laundry.”
Catching her hand in his, he drew her back into his embrace. Their bodies collided, wet and slippery. Everything about her was soft. Her mouth, full and moist and hungry. Her breasts, the water breaking across the generous slopes. Her abdomen. He grazed that feminine curve, remembering what it had felt like when he’d believed his child lay there, tucked safely within her womb.
Her legs scissored at the unexpected contact, sending her bobbing upward. “I can’t touch the bottom.”
“You don’t need to.” He hooked his hands behind the backs of her upper thighs and parted her legs, sliding between them. “Hold on to me, love.”
She shuddered in his grasp, her muscles spasming at the tantalizing brush of flesh against flesh. Masculine against feminine. “Please,” she moaned, her eyes fluttering closed. “Say my name, Brandt. Make love to me this time.”
“Look at me, Miri.” He fisted his hands in her hair, waiting until she complied. “That’s right, sweetheart. Look at me, just like I’m looking at you. I know who I’m holding. And whether you believe it or not, some part of me knew who it was on our wedding night.”
Her chin wobbled. “It wasn’t our wedding night. It was yours and Alyssa’s.”
“You’re wrong.” How could he make her understand? “I thought I could forget about you. That I could marry Alyssa and put you out of my life. But it wouldn’t have worked. The minute I would have tried to make love to her—the real Alyssa—it would have turned to ashes.” He spun her around to face the fire. “Look at it. You and I, we’re that blaze. That’s what happens when we touch. Alyssa and I would have been the cold ash we’ll find over there come morning.”
“You called me by her name.” She treaded water, allowing a chilly gap to form between them. Moonbeams caught in her eyes and highlighted her pain. “That was the last word you spoke to me.”
“I’m sorry. It was never my intention to hurt you.”
“You did.”
So simple. So direct. He’d broken something he wasn’t sure he could repair. “Listen to me, sweetheart. It wasn’t Alyssa in that bed with me on our wedding night, anymore than it was Alyssa standing beside me at the altar when we spoke our vows.”
“The church has annulled our marriage,” she interrupted. “Those vows are meaningless.”
“They’re not meaningless. Not to us.” The words, loud and vehement, echoed across the lake, silencing the nighttime chatter coming from the surrounding woods. He caught hold of her hand and towed her closer. “The church may not recognize our union, but I recognize it. And so do you.”
Slowly, the evening songs resumed. High-pitched insect strumming and trilling birdcall, the bass accompaniment of nearby amphibians, as well as the light clatter of branches, called to life by an insistent breeze. He kissed her to the sound of that music, a kiss as tender and sacred as if they were standing once again in front of an altar.
“Admit it, Miri. In your heart, you’re married to me. That’s why you refuse to give up on us. That’s why you have Juliana working to clear my name. We’re joined, in every way it’s possible for a man and woman to be joined.”
He sealed the words with a
nother kiss, this one more ardent. He could feel the longing in her, taste her yearning. What he wanted, though, was her passion. And then it came, bursting from her, hot and demanding and unconditional. That one kiss nearly devastated his self-control. He fought to hold on, determined to make this the most special night of her life. He owed her that much at least.
He drifted toward shore with her, his caresses following the shallowing waterline. He kissed the moisture from the taut sweep of her neck, then the slope of her shoulders. He followed the length of her arms, all the way to her fingertips, before cupping her breasts and lavishing teeth and tongue on each pebbled tip. He skated lower still as they reached the shore, catching the beads of moisture that slid down her belly.
Sinking to his knees, he held her upright while he traced a line from the womanly flare of her right hip across her soft belly to her left. He could just make out the jeweled butterfly that fluttered there. It took on a whole new meaning—a testament to their time on Mazoné. Where before he’d avoided it, this time he gave it his full attention. Satisfied, he steadied her before sinking lower, finding the very heart of her.
Her entire body reverberated, burning like an inferno as intense as the fire still roaring behind them. She arched backward until her hair swirled in the water, the strands wrapping around them, binding them together. She went bowstring taut, her throat working in a silent shriek. He pushed her higher. Harder. With a breathless cry, she tipped over the edge, the breath gusting from her lungs. And then she folded, collapsing in his arms, trembling in reaction.
Turning, he beached them and gathered her close. The storm raging through her abated, but only for the moment. Not giving her time to do more than catch her breath, he drove her upward again.
“I know who I’m holding in my arms. It’s you, Miri. Only you.”
Possessiveness burned in her gaze, filling him with an urgent desire to touch every part of her, to take his time feasting on every inch. He reared upward, baring her to his gaze. The moonlight tracked across her damp body, a glistening swathe of silver. She lay open to him, her eyes dark with want. The air shuddered from her lungs, preventing speech. Instead, she reached for him, impatience implicit in every movement as she tugged him into her waiting embrace.
“Easy, love,” he murmured.
“I don’t want easy.” She sealed his mouth with a hard, greedy kiss. “I want out of control. I want you to show me that I’m the only woman who can make you feel like this.”
“Don’t you know?” He smiled tenderly. “No other woman exists for me, but you. When I hold you like this—” his hand swept over her “—touch you like this, I’m blind and deaf to everyone but you.”
He took her then, filled her, drove her back into the storm. She followed the rhythm he set, dancing to the primitive song, moving in perfect counterpoint. The storm built, sliding into their veins and thundering through them. He rode the wild center of it, struggling for a control that escaped his grasp. What was happening between them defied control, defied anything and everything but absolute surrender.
It had been like that last time, too, so different from every other sexual experience that it had made an indelible impact on him. How could he have ever thought he’d made love to Alyssa all those weeks ago, when every touch, every sound, every movement and scent whispered Miri’s name? No, not whispered. Shouted. Screamed. She’d branded him with her essence, made herself a permanent part of him. And he wanted to mark her the same way.
He surged into her, driving them together again and again in a frenzy of need. He threw back his head, wanting to howl at the moon, mindless with desire. It was no different for her. Her expression glowed in the silver light, more beautiful and wildly iridescent than he’d ever seen it.
And then the storm reached its height, broke over them, giving them up to ecstasy. They went over the edge together, united in heart, body and soul. She cried afterward, from joy, she tearfully insisted. Murmuring ridiculous words of reassurance, he lifted her in his arms and carried her back into the lake. There he gently washed the sand from her body. When he was through he took her to their improvised bed. Towels became blankets, cocooning them from the cool night breeze.
As sleep claimed them, he tucked her close and gave her his heart.
Ten
Early morning sunlight woke them. Miri stirred, so comfortable she didn’t want to move, much less get up. She lay on her side, wrapped partially in towels and partially in Brandt, her head cushioned against his shoulder.
His gruff voice rumbled above her. “I’m thinking we should have hung up our clothes.”
She laughed softly. “If it came down to a choice between that and what we did instead, I’ll take option number two.”
“I think I will, too.”
“You think?” She poked him in the ribs, drawing a husky chuckle. “You better know, Your Highness.”
“Oh, I know, all right.”
Her amusement faded. “How do you suppose the fire started? Was it something I did?”
“Funny you should ask. I’d just been wondering if it was something I’d done wrong.” His brows drew together. “I’m pretty sure we left one of the lamps burning in the main room. I was so angry when we went to bed, I didn’t give it a thought. I’m guessing the wind must have blown the lamp over. Or maybe something flammable blew up against it.”
“Frightening.” She curled closer, lifting her head so she could watch his expression. “Brandt—”
“Uh-oh.”
“We need to finish our discussion from last night.” A wry note crept into her voice. “Though I wouldn’t mind if we did it without losing our temper or starting any more fires.”
He released his breath in a gusty sigh. “No promises, but we can give it a shot.”
“Do you still insist we go our separate ways?” Determination filled her. “Fair warning, marriage or not, I plan to stand by you regardless of what happens with the allegations.”
He tucked an arm behind his head and stared out at the lake. The fact that he avoided her gaze didn’t bode well. “Once the allegations against me have been disproved so they can’t adversely affect your reputation, you can do anything you want.”
A tentative hope sparked to life. “Are you saying that after your name is cleared we can be together again?”
“That’s just it, Miri. Nothing may happen.” His expression turned brooding. “There may never be clarity. I may remain under suspicion forever, living beneath a shadow I can’t escape.”
She stared in disbelief. “Is that an admission of guilt? Because if it is, I’m not buying it. I know you, Brandt. You’d never steal from your own country.”
“Someone wants it to look like I have,” he argued doggedly. “The charges—”
“Will be cleared up, just like they were with Lander,” Miri stated firmly. “Juliana’s agreed to examine the records again. And don’t you dare rant and rave at me about involving her. When it comes to finances and accounting there’s no one better. You’re lucky she’s willing to help. Juliana will figure it out.”
“And if she doesn’t?” He turned to look at her then. At some point in the last day deep crevices had carved a path on either side of his mouth. A tightness gathered around his eyes—eyes flat with exhaustion. “It’s not like she has a lot of incentive to clear me. As things stand now, your brother will win the election by a landslide. Why would she do anything to change that?”
“You’re not the only honorable person in Verdonia, Brandt.” Miri put a sting in the words. “You’re not the only one who puts duty and responsibility ahead of personal desire or self-interest, or who has Verdonia’s best interests at heart. Juliana is an honorable person. So are Lander and Merrick and Alyssa. The problem is you don’t trust the Montgomerys. I’m not sure you even trust me.”
He jackknifed upward, spilling towels in every direction. “What the hell are you talking about? Of course, I trust you.”
“You don’t trust me enough to let me in
.” She sat up, as well, fumbling to retrieve some of their covers. “I don’t need your protection, Brandt. I don’t need you to take care of me. I’m quite able to handle that job all on my own. What I want is a partner. A lover. A confidante. Isn’t that what you want, too?”
A muscle jerked in his cheek. “Yes.”
“But you still won’t offer that, will you?”
“No.”
She’d asked for frankness, and she’d certainly gotten it. She struggled to change tactics. In the little time they’d had together, she’d discovered that logic worked best with him. Granted, it wasn’t her strong suit, but she’d give it a stab if it meant getting through to him. “You wouldn’t be asking me to leave if our marriage hadn’t been annulled,” she pointed out. “Or if I’d actually been pregnant.”
“I explained my reasoning on that.”
“I remember. You would have been honor-bound to protect the baby. To give it your name.” Curling her legs beneath her, she gathered up one of his hands and laced her fingers with his. “While you’re so busy considering honor and duty, maybe you should consider one more important detail.”
“Which is?”
“You abducted me and brought me back to Avernos. You announced to the world that I was your wife. You insisted I sleep in your bed. Basically, you compromised me. What effect do you suppose that will have on my reputation, and the manner in which people regard me? Whether or not I’m pregnant, your honor won’t allow you to do anything other than marry me. And I can guarantee, my mother and brothers won’t accept anything less, either.”
“You…I—”
“We,” she emphasized. “Not ‘you’ and not ‘I,’ but we. That’s how it’s supposed to be and how it’s going to be from now on. You don’t have to let me in, if you don’t want. It’s your choice. But every time you leave your home, you’re going to find me camped on your doorstep. I’m hoping you’ll eventually get tired of stepping over me and let me in.”
