All He Desires

by Anthea Lawson

  Without thinking he turned her, enfolded her in his arms. She came without hesitation, her clear brown eyes, damnably full of desire, of curiosity, searching his. He was vibrating with need, her arousal an unbearable spur.

  There was nothing else to be done. Alex lowered his head and kissed her.

  Chapter 9

  Dear heavens. Mr. Trentham’s lips came down over hers in a gesture that seemed inevitable, as if they had been moving toward this kiss from the moment they had met. It was a wildness of sensation, a shiver that ran through her entire body from the place their mouths touched. Caroline trembled, as though she were made of nothing more substantial than air and light, and gave herself up to it.

  His kiss was warm and firm and as perfectly commanding as the rest of him. She obeyed—she could do nothing less—as he enfolded her in his arms and pressed her close. All her thoughts fell away, and she was falling, falling up, into the sky.

  It was as though she had been waiting for this feeling for years; the sense of rightness, of completion, was like a key turning in a lock. Her body was swept with tickling flame, the impossible breathlessness of being fused so closely against him, the hardness of a male body so different from her own. So wonderfully different.

  The kiss was over far too soon. To her dismay he set her at arm’s length, his expression shuttered, though his breathing came as fast as her own.

  This would never do. Not at all—not if she wanted him to kiss her again. Which she did, rather desperately. Kiss her and…other things, things she had seen pictured quite recently. Her bosom tingled at the thought. She stepped forward until her skirts brushed his trousers.

  “Miss Huntington.” His voice was rough. “You would do well to keep your distance.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you don’t know where this will lead.”

  She set her palm to his shirtfront, feeling the heat of his skin, the hard muscles beneath the cotton. Immediately his hand encircled her wrist, his grip hard, inexorable—but he did not pull her hand away. She stared up into his turbulent blue eyes, his body strung taut.

  “You may find far more than you’ve bargained for.” His grasp on her wrist loosened and he set both hands to her shoulders, holding her in place—to keep her from coming closer, or from moving away, she was not certain which.

  “I’ve been kissed before,” she said.

  She had been kissed before—once. She recalled the occasion with clarity. The garden party where Charlie Burnham had shown her the rose arbor and then clumsily embraced her, his lips sliding from her cheek over to her mouth. It had been a rather damp experience, as he seemed unsure what the desired effect ought to be, or how to achieve it. Afterward, she’d surreptitiously wiped her face with her handkerchief. The experience had left her utterly dissatisfied. Surely there had to be something more.

  Alex had just shown her there was—very much more. If only he would kiss her again.

  “Let me demonstrate exactly the danger you seem so determined to court.” His voice emerged as nearly a growl.

  A shiver of anticipation went through her as he stared at her a long moment, then bent his head, capturing her mouth with his. A wild, womanly part of her rejoiced, a part that kindled when his mouth descended over hers, that knew enough to name the spark in his eyes as hot desire.

  This was an altogether different kind of kiss from the first. Possessive and hungry, as though something in him had broken free of restraints, a fierceness in the way his lips took hers. His fingers laced through her hair, while his other hand moved to her back and pressed her tightly to him.

  His tongue licked at her lips, as though he tasted something sweet and must devour every trace of it. It was shockingly intimate, but even more so when he nudged her mouth open with his and swept his tongue inside. Hot and wicked. She dug her fingers into his shoulder to keep her balance while new sensations stormed through her.

  He nudged her a step back, mouth still covering hers, until she was against the wall, her splinted arm useless at her side. The stone at her back, Alex over her, pressing against her, his body heavy and insistent, kissing her like a starving man with a feast set before him.

  The first kiss had been a sweet breeze. This was a hurricane, seizing her far off course, the uncharted sea a tumult, her senses whirling. He circled his tongue around hers and she gasped from the pleasure of it, the fierce current of desire that poured from him straight into her, as though she were drinking it from their open mouths, fused together. It was heady—far stronger than any liquor she had tried, and blurred her mind ferociously until there was only the feel of his body hard against hers, his hand tangled in her hair, the impossible tempest of their kiss.

  She would not have remained standing but for him pinning her against the wall. Then he dropped his hand to her breast and she gasped aloud. Sparks showered through her and she was filled with hot confusion. She squirmed beneath his hand and he pulled back, abruptly breaking their kiss.

  Both of them were breathing raggedly, and her heartbeat pulsed through her in waves. She flattened her palm against the stones and stared up at him, dizzy and overwhelmed.

  “Is that what you want—to be taken like some wanton against a ruined wall?” His voice was hard, but there was something desolate in his eyes. “What then? Could you look me in the face the next day, Caroline Huntington? Would you think well of me—of yourself?”

  “No.” The word emerged as a thin whisper. Despite her yearning for him, it was too much, too soon.

  “Say it again.”

  “No.” Stronger this time. She pushed herself upright.

  “I didn’t think so.” He stepped away. “Be careful what you ask for.”

  Throat dry, she watched him gather his self-control and wrap it around himself like a tattered cloak. He had not meant to kiss her then, at least not at first, but he thought she had been affected as much as he.

  Dear heavens. Alex had kissed her, and nothing would ever be the same.

  He climbed the ladder, held his hand out to help her up the last few rungs but did not offer his arm as they silently made their way back. Concentrating on her footing, she tried to calm the jumbled whirl of her thoughts. Alex. Kissing her. It was the thing that shone brightest, despite his attempt to frighten her away.

  Alex jammed his hands into his pockets and paced beside Miss Huntington, ignoring the twinge in his leg. Damn him for a fool—but at least at the end he had made her see she was trifling with things better left alone. If only she would keep her distance, he would be able to subdue the beast of desire she had set free in him.

  It was encouraging that she did not try to draw him into conversation as they walked back to the picnic site. Truly, he did not need this complication, this thunderous unbalancing of his life she had wrought. Nothing good could come of it. Far better he had stopped her now, no matter that the world seemed greyer, the hollow inside himself echoing.

  Pen was still dozing. She opened her eyes halfway as they approached and smiled a dreamy smile at them.

  “It’s really too comfortable, Caro. Here.” She patted the nest of cushions beside her.

  “If you insist.” Miss Huntington took a seat on the blanket beside her friend. “Perhaps a short rest. Thank you for the company, Mr. Trentham.” She did not look at him, and he pretended what he felt was relief.

  “I’m going to talk with Legault,” he said. “Come find me when you wake.” He hoped the Frenchman would have more bones for him—anything to take his mind from kissing Caroline. Though he knew it would not be that simple.

  A dusty half hour later Pen hailed him. He looked up from the newest finds Legault had unearthed to see her approaching, Miss Huntington lagging several steps behind.

  “I’m going to show Caroline the basilica. Would you care to join us?”

  “Not now. I’m examining something for Monsieur Legault.” He squinted at the sky, judging the sun’s position. “Collect me on your way back. We should be riding out soon.” He kept
himself from glancing at Miss Huntington. No need to act like a besotted schoolboy.

  Pen nodded. “We won’t be long. Come on, Caro.” She frowned over her shoulder at him as they left.

  This time he did watch as the ladies headed for the perimeter of the excavation. Perhaps he ought to join them; he could not concentrate on the delicate bones Legault had directed him to.

  He was setting his tools aside when the sharp crack of a shot, followed by a woman’s shriek, split the lazy air. He was running before his mind had finished identifying the sound. Dread pushed his heels hard against the uneven ground as he sprinted forward, air rasping his throat. Where were they? Bloody hell, why had he let the women out of his sight?

  He rounded the corner of the ruined basilica. Empty. But there—Was that a flutter of calico near the jumbled stones? Yes. They were there among the trees, Caroline’s arm about Pen. Both of them still standing.

  Relief poured through him.

  “What happened?” He fetched up hard beside them. “Caroline, are you all right? Pen, you’re bleeding.” He took the girl’s chin, turning her face to see the long scratch down one cheek.

  “I was standing by the wall when there was an explosion of some sort.” Pen’s voice was shaky. “Then I pushed Caro into the cypress.”

  “It was a shot,” Caroline said, her face pale.

  “Here.” He thrust his handkerchief into her hand. “See to Pen. It’s a cut, not a graze. The bullet must have ricocheted off the wall.” He whirled and scanned the brush. “What kind of idiot is out here shooting?”

  Caroline shook her head. “That shot came far too close to Pen.”

  “And to you.” He caught sight of movement beyond the trees. “Stay here.”

  He dodged through the cypresses, fury and fear a tight knot in his throat. There. A skulking figure in the underbrush. Alex burst from the trees and launched himself at the fellow, knocking the rifle from his hands.

  “I say!” It was an English voice. “What the devil are you about?”

  Alex grabbed a fistful of the stranger’s coat and drew him forward. “I’m asking you the same. What in bloody hell are you doing with a gun out here?”

  Muddy brown eyes set over a blunt nose blinked at him. “After pheasant, of course. Had a lovely fat one—or nearly did. Went to ground just there.” He jerked his head toward the trees.

  “Your shot went astray.” God, when he thought of how close it had come to Caroline, to Pen. He shook the man. “You nearly struck one of my companions.”

  “Never say so!” The man pulled his hat off. “Had no idea anyone was about. None at all.”

  “Who are you, anyhow?” Alex released his grip on the man’s coat, part of him wishing the fellow had offered more resistance. It was difficult to release his own anger when faced with such easy capitulation.

  “Mr. John Simms, sportsman at large.” He offered a meaty hand.

  Alex stared at him a moment, then took it. He did not expect the bruising force that accompanied Mr. Simms’s handshake but applied equal pressure in return.

  “You’re the new arrival, then. I advise you to keep clear of this area—it’s the site of an archaeological excavation. In fact”—he bared his teeth in something he hoped did not in the least resemble a smile—“I advise you to give up shooting altogether. It can be a dangerous sport.”

  Something flashed in the man’s eyes before he dropped his gaze and turned his hat about in his hands. “Aye, I see that well enough. The game hereabouts is tricky. Better luck fishing, maybe.”

  “Indeed. Good day, Mr. Simms.”

  The man replaced his crumpled hat, then bent and retrieved his gun. “My apologies for startling you. See you about the village, I suppose.”

  Or not. Alex wanted nothing to do with him—and most certainly did not want Caroline or Pen anywhere near the man. Something in his manner was decidedly off. Alex watched, arms folded, as Simms took himself off. Just before he descended from view the sportsman turned and gave a jaunty wave.

  Alex waited until he was out of sight, then returned to the women. Pen’s cheek had stopped bleeding, and Caroline seemed to have collected herself.

  “A hunter,” he explained briefly, voice tight. “His shot went astray. I dare say he won’t be shooting on the island again.” He should have confiscated the man’s rifle. If he heard of Simms using it again, he would not hesitate to do so. “Come, let’s bid the Legaults farewell.”

  Past time they left the excavation. He would not feel easy until the women were safely back in their rooms at the villa.

  Chapter 10

  Caroline did not care to admit it, but the next day she was content to rest. Clouds had rolled in from the south, borne by North African winds. A light spattering of rain made it easier to pull a lap robe over herself and spend the morning with her copy of Jane Eyre: An Autobiography, by Currer Bell.

  The book had been published only last year, and there was much speculation as to whether the author was male or female. She suspected female and had read the novel a half dozen times, taking pleasure in the tale of an orphan far less fortunate than herself who in the end gains true happiness.

  She turned a page but could not concentrate on the story—not when another story was spinning inside her. Alex’s kiss and the way it had made her feel. She could not stop replaying it in her mind, could not stop wishing that he would kiss her again, today. And the next day. And the one after that. She traced her lips with the tip of her finger and closed her eyes, trying to evoke the vivid flames he had lit within her.

  Where would it lead? She pushed the question away. It did not matter, not while she was still here, on Crete. Despite his warnings, she knew she was safe with him. Alex would never press her past her consent.

  A brusque knock at the door made her smile and drop her hand from her mouth. “Come in, Mr. Trentham.”

  He strode in, shoulders darkened from the rain, drops caught in his raven black hair. “Good afternoon.” His expression was serious, but it lightened as he moved into the room, as though seeing her wrought a subtle transformation in him.

  Certainly it worked a powerful one in her. She rose and set her book aside, then, unsure, folded her good arm under her sling. Yesterday had been impetuous, but standing here, facing him in her own rooms, awkwardness settled between them. This was not a secluded site decorated with highly improper illustrations, where a kiss would be a simple, inexorable thing.

  He cleared his throat and waved her to the nearby chair. “Sit. Let me take a look at your arm.”

  So it was to be the doctor, not the lover. Not that she had expected…well. She did not know what to expect, but no matter how he might insist he was only her physician, they were more than that. Friends at the very least—and how unanticipated that was. A wry smile tugged her lips. She never would have imagined becoming fond of this dark and taciturn man, this reluctant doctor of hers.

  Swallowing back the hope that sprang up every time, she unhooked the sling and offered her splint for inspection. Three weeks since her fall. It seemed an eternity. She felt completely different, as though the Caroline Huntington who had tumbled from her horse was barely the same woman who sat here now, acutely aware of the man standing before her.

  He unwound the linen, each layer freeing her until he reached the splint and lifted it away, then set his fingers to the exposed skin of her elbow and pressed. “Any pain?”

  “No.” She blinked in surprise. “None at all.”

  “Hmm.” He took her hand in his and extended her arm. “How about now?” His hair fell across his forehead as he bent over her, focused on his task.

  She tried to concentrate on how her arm felt, but it was nearly impossible. Awareness of him hummed through her, as if the two of them were engaged in a quiet, formal dance, his touch guiding her movements. She felt her breathing deepen, as though they were dancing in truth, her hand placed lightly in his as he whirled her through some candlelit ballroom.

  “Miss Huntingt
on?”

  She glanced up at him, recalled his question. “A faint ache, that’s all.”

  He released her hand and moved to stand behind her. “Raise your right arm straight out to the side. Yes, like that.” He slipped his hands beneath, supporting her. “Very good. Now relax.”

  That proved easy enough, as her muscles were amazed and trembling to be put to use again. Goodness, she had not expected to become weak in such a short time. Alex moved her arm forward and back, then, seemingly satisfied, laid it in her lap, leaning over her as he did so.

  Sudden heat washed her. His head was bent very close and the familiar scent of him—sage and something essentially male—tingled her senses. She held still, afraid to move, nearly afraid to breathe.

  His voice was low and deep. “I think we’ve reached a milestone, Miss Huntington, don’t you?”

  “Yes.” It came out a whisper.

  She sensed his gaze and turned her head. Their faces were bare inches apart. She leaned forward, yearning to set her lips against his, to sigh in his breath, to learn the taste of him.

  “Miss Huntington.” His voice carried a soft warning, one that she chose to ignore. It took a mere inclination of her head to bring her mouth to his.

  Softly at first, she brushed her lips across, exploring the feel of him. His mouth was like silk, the skin of his face slightly rough, and the contrast made warmth kindle deep within her. The curve of his lower lip was irresistible. She nibbled gently, darting her tongue out to taste him.

  Alex held still, but she felt a tremor run through him as she lifted her hands—both hands—and threaded them through his hair, bringing his mouth firmly against hers. A current of something sweet and exciting ran through her, igniting her to boldness. She flicked her tongue out, tasting him, heard his breathing speed as she licked the crease of his lips.

  Then his mouth parted, his tongue met hers, and she was ablaze, a sudden wildfire sweeping through dry grasses. He held himself away from her, letting her control the kiss, though she could feel his hands gripping the chair to either side. It was a heady feeling. She slid one hand to the back of his neck and slanted her mouth, discovering how easily their mouths fitted as the kiss deepened.