Strictly Forbidden

by Shayla Black

  A scratch and a thud outside drew her attention. She frowned. What could that be? A tree branch? A stray cat?

  Then, a low curse sounded in the still night, and Kira raced to her window. She peered out into the moonlit night and caught sight of a leg dangling outside Gavin’s window. A ladder below leaned up to it. As her heart began to race in alarm, the leg scrambled inside, disappearing into his room.

  The leg was not Gavin’s, not unless he had suddenly developed a yen for climbing into windows wearing very dirty boots.

  Someone—perhaps a nefarious someone—was in his room.

  She had to help him. Gavin might be asleep, and therefore, easy prey for the fiend now in his lodgings.

  Her stomach ground with anxiety as blood chugged through her system at a wild pace. She looked around for a weapon. Her shawl? No, momentarily blinding him would do little good. The knife that had come with her meal earlier was gone, retrieved by Mrs. Kerr with the rest of the tray. Think! Then she spotted the poker from her fireplace.

  Grabbing it, she crept into the adjoining parlor.

  Inside, she heard silence. Then a curse, a shout—Gavin’s?—then a scuffle.

  Kira wanted to charge in the room, take the wrongdoer by surprise, and whack him over the head until he was subdued. And it all sounded good, except she’d never hit anyone in her life.

  Sucking in a deep breath for courage, Kira snuck farther into the parlor, hovering near the sofa. She heard the fracas in the adjoining room, the one that held Gavin’s bed. Apparently, he had retired for the night because the room was darker than an underground cave.

  As her eyes adjusted to the lack of light, she heard the shuffle of feet, a grunt, the sound of a fist meeting flesh, the sharp hiss of a blade.

  Her heart in her throat, Kira dashed behind a wall, poker raised.

  She quickly realized Gavin had two visitors, not one.

  The first had planted himself behind Gavin and taken hold of his elbows and pulled them back, clamping his arms to immobility. The second held a gleaming silver blade near his belly.

  The sight horrified her. Kira didn’t stop to think about anything except saving Gavin.

  “Watch out!” yelled the man restraining Gavin.

  “Fer what?” the man with the knife grumbled.

  “Be-behind—”

  Kira struck the armed thug on the head with a satisfying thwack. He tumbled to his knees, groaning and clutching his crown. The knife clattered across the hardwood floor.

  The other man’s gaze darted between her poker and the knife glinting in the subdued moonlight. He continued to hold Gavin tight, but he had a nervous look about him.

  “Put the poker down,” he demanded.

  “No.”

  She eased toward the knife, a silver symbol of malice, halfway between the two intruders. Gavin shook his head at her in silent warning. She ignored him.

  Kira came within mere inches of the loose blade when Gavin’s captor threw him aside and lunged at her. She scrambled to the floor to retrieve the knife, doing her best to hang on to the poker as well.

  Then she felt a hand at her ankle. The assailant she had earlier struck had revived himself enough to grab her. She yelped.

  But she found the hilt of the knife with her hand and latched on tight.

  As if in the distance, she heard the sound of a solid punch and a coarse curse. She stood, blade in hand, and realized that Gavin had struck his attacker and kept the ruffian from reaching her. She wanted to thank him, but her own foe was slowly rising to his feet.

  He wasn’t a large man, but his fingers clutching her calf told her that he was strong. He released her leg, stood, and charged at her in one motion. In a defensive gesture, Kira turned her back to him, clutching the knife and the poker to her chest to keep it as far away from him as she could. He grabbed her from behind, his fingers like cold steel about her wrists as he tried to pry the knife from her grasp. She gripped the hilt so hard, her entire arm trembled.

  Beside her, Gavin and his enemy continued their scuffle, but she could not see who was winning. Please let it be Gavin!

  “Give me the knife.” The brute’s low whisper burned her with fear. “If ye do, I’ll make yer death painless.”

  Death? Had the fiends come here to kill them?

  A grunt and another oath from across the room punctuated the air. Kira’s mind raced, her blood pumping, pumping. They could not succeed. Darius had taught her many things after she returned from her debacle with Lord Vance. Best to use them now.

  Kira dropped the poker near her feet, then stepped on it, preventing her aggressor from grabbing it for himself. The cold metal bit into her bare feet, but she jammed it into the crevice between the ball of her foot and her toes and gripped with all her might.

  Then she rammed her elbow into her attacker’s stomach.

  He released her instantly and backed away, clutching his lean middle. “Ye bitch!”

  Kira found she wasn’t fond of him either. She whirled around and poked him in the eyes. Her adversary howled with pain.

  Feeling braver, she ventured closer, intending to introduce her knee to his most sensitive area.

  But he dove at her, ripped the knife from her hand, and threw her to the ground.

  “Yer an uppity wench for a duke’s whore,” he said, panting with exertion. “I’ll enjoy killing ye.”

  Kira screamed.

  A glance to her right proved Gavin and his opponent still locked in battle. Fists flew. They were evenly matched in size and strength. Kira only knew one man from the other this deep in shadow because Gavin wore nothing more than his drawers.

  “Look at me when I slit yer throat,” growled her adversary.

  She didn’t want to die! Kira squeezed her eyes shut and refused the fiend his wish. As he settled himself more firmly over her by standing on his knees and straddling her hips, she was glad she hadn’t complied.

  A loud grunt across the room veered the narrow-faced thug’s gaze to Gavin and his adversary. During his distraction, Kira wedged her knee between them and, using every bit of her strength, arched her hips off the cold wooden floor. Her knee met his scrotum in a solid blow.

  He heaved a long, nearly silent grunt as he rolled off of her and onto his back, clutching his genitals. Kira didn’t waste time trying to pry the knife from his hands. He was still the stronger by far, and she was out of tricks he would not likely fall for twice.

  Instead, she fell to her hands and knees and scrambled in the dark to find the poker. Finally, she came upon the thin weapon as her enemy staggered to his feet. She quickly hit him again, this time in the temple. He crashed to the ground once more with a groan.

  Cautiously, she dropped down beside him, weapon at the ready just in case. She peered very closely and realized he was barely conscious.

  Jubilation rushing through her, she grabbed the knife from his grip and approached Gavin and his foe. They were on the floor now, rolling around like a pair of fighting cats. Gavin threw out a leg and prevented the other man from continuing onto his back. He wrapped his hands around the intruder’s neck.

  “Here!” She thrust the knife at him, hilt first.

  His gaze snapped to her, and after a moment’s surprise, he took the knife and whipped it up to the invader’s throat.

  “Who the hell sent you?”

  “Ye won’t kill me, ye milksop nobleman. None of yer kind have it in ye,” he sneered.

  “Oh, you are quite wrong.” Gavin’s voice was like low thunder, and Kira knew he meant it. “If I didn’t want information more, you would have already drawn your last breath.”

  “Wot slop. Piss off!”

  Gavin pressed the knife closer, sinking the edge in just enough to draw a drop of blood. The ruffian’s eyes grew wide as his skin grew waxy.

  Suddenly, his companion rose and crashed on top of Gavin, knocking him to his side. All but scratching at his throat, the thug Gavin had nearly stabbed raced for the window and leapt out. The other intr
uder watched his partner’s departure and quickly followed suit.

  Gavin raced to the window, but the duo knocked away the ladder and ran out into the night before he could chase them.

  “Damnation!” he cursed, exhaling deeply. Then he turned to her. “Did they hurt you?”

  “N—no.”

  But somehow they had. Worry assailed her, bruising her to vulnerability. Had Darius and James encountered the ruffians too? Had they lived? Fear of the unknown shook Kira even more.

  “They—they simply… scared me,” she confessed, even though there was nothing simple about the thick sting of fear curling in her belly.

  Without another word, he crossed the room and wrapped his arms around her. “I know.”

  Despite the chilly night, Gavin’s large body gave off heat that seeped through her thin nightrail. She melted into him, the edge of fear giving way to security when he held her. But still she felt shaken.

  “Were— Do you think they were Lord Vance’s—”

  “Yes,” he whispered. “The swine who attacked me looked very much like the guard with the scarred lip at Fentlet Manor.”

  His words wrung her stomach tight with worry, not only for she and Gavin, but for her fiancé and her brother. Were they still alive? Or had they met the wrong end of a knife?

  “Oh, my… They wanted to kill us.” Kira heard her own voice tremble and couldn’t stop it.

  Gavin nodded. His chin bobbed against her cheek, the soft abrasion of his whiskers sliding against her skin. The palm he splayed across her back seemed to engulf her. And for his nearness, she felt so much better. She nestled closer.

  “I know,” he murmured, then kissed her temple. “But they did not. How did you manage to subdue the other ruffian?”

  She shrugged, trying her best to appear composed. Inside, however, she realized how terribly close she’d come to death, and she began to shake. Emotions rose until they nearly closed her throat.

  “Darius taught me some—some…”

  She burst into tears.

  Gavin held her even more tightly. “Shh. You did a superb job defending yourself. You’re safe now.”

  “I’m not,” she protested. “We’re not. Darius and James are still missing, and—and now someone is trying to kill us—”

  “We will solve this. Everything will be all right.”

  He kissed her jaw, her cheek, so tenderly she melted. Kira pressed against him, conscious of her pounding heart, her trembling limbs, and the knot of fear in her stomach that seemed unrelenting—until Gavin touched her. He made her believe all would end well, so she held him closer.

  He smoothed his palms across her back, up to her neck, massaging, soothing her. His lips found her other cheek.

  “No one can harm you tonight.”

  “Do you promise?”

  As soon as she asked the question, she realized it was irrational, but the soft assurance he uttered made her feel better anyway.

  “I promise.”

  She clung to him still, hearing nothing more than their breathing, the beat of her own heart thudding in her ears. He stroked a soft hand down the length of her braid, his lips making a soft sweep up her neck.

  “I promise,” he repeated.

  And she believed him.

  When he lifted his head to gaze at her again, Kira felt overwhelmed by the pull of too many feelings, fear, love, and a handful of other emotions she could not name. But Gavin was solid and unbreakable, someone she trusted in the thick of danger. The tender concern in his gaze sank deep into her heart. It was so stark and honest, she knew he cared. Hope and elation surged within her.

  Before she could stop herself, she closed the last few inches between them and laid her mouth over his.

  He met her with a soft brush that roused her senses, a sweet, lingering connection of their lips. Then for a long moment, he simply held her, his large palms smoothing her back, soothing her erratic heartbeat to something near normal.

  “Gavin,” she whispered, holding him tight.

  She scarcely finished the whisper before he brushed her lips with a kiss that felt reassuring and urgent at once. She responded with abandon, needing his assurance, his touch. He took her mouth in a bold sampling that tripled her heart rate. Then he possessed her, inviting himself between her lips and tasting her with a subtle stroke of his tongue until she nearly melted. A slow fervor of passion dominated the kiss, as if he found her a rare indulgence to savor.

  She felt safe, cherished even, and gave herself over to his comfort.

  Gavin cupped her jaw in his hands as if he would never have enough of her. Kira leaned in again, feeling sweet desire rise up inside her to chip away at her fear. She eased her hands from his shoulders to his back, then tangled her fingers in the silky dark hair at his nape.

  The kiss went on, endless, perfect, a timeless testament to the power of their connection. In her heart, they merged to become like one body. It felt as if they were meant to be this way always, he protective yet gentle, she responsive and giving.

  When Gavin caressed her cheek with his fingers, she became pliable in his hands. She wanted so desperately for this feeling of belonging and safety to go on forever.

  “Touch me,” she whispered.

  He paused, met her gaze. The dark probe of his stare searched her, reading her face. Whatever he read there must have convinced him that she meant her soft words, for he claimed her mouth again so softly it was like a dream. He caressed her from shoulder to waist with a gossamer touch.

  Kira responded with a soft moan, arching closer. Everything about him felt so good, so right, as if she was meant to be with him always.

  She stroked the length of his bare back, marveling at the silken steel skin rippling beneath her hands. In return, he nibbled at her mouth, awakening her to his touch.

  With warm fingers, he slid her nightdress from her shoulder, exposing her to the night air. He kissed a heated path from her mouth, to her jaw, down her neck, until he claimed the sensitive skin of her bare shoulder.

  Her breathing came harder then, and she arched toward him, assailed by a wish that this could go on forever.

  He plucked at the buttons fronting her nightdress, undoing them one after the other. A moment of protest filtered through her mind.

  “I can’t tell you how much I’ve wanted to touch you,” he muttered. “Or how worried I was when that bounder attacked you. My heart nearly stopped when I realized how badly he could have hurt you.”

  Before she could reply to his raspy confession, he kissed her again. Kira tasted the passion in this kiss—and something she had not discerned when they made love on the library floor: yearning. Whatever he wanted seemed to come from his heart.

  Just as her need for him stemmed from her own.

  Kira threw herself into the kiss, their lips dancing, tongues swirling, breaths mating.

  Suddenly, her nightdress skittered down her arm, baring her breast. Gavin covered the taut mound with his hand, cupping with tender fingers. The connection sizzled. But when he dragged his thumb over the hardened crest, the sensation rocked her to her toes. Her desire steadily rising, she cried out.

  Gavin needed no more encouragement. He eased the garment from the rest of her body until it lay in a pool at her feet. Then he picked her up in his arms and carried her to his bed. He laid her on the mattress and followed her, his body engulfing hers as their limbs tangled. He never looked away, the pale moonlight showing the utter care in his eyes.

  Kira raised her arms to him. He fell into them, drugging her with a slow, endless kiss as he sank down against her. Her lashes fluttered closed as she tasted heaven.

  Kissing his way down her neck and her collarbones, Kira knew his destination but still felt stunned by the first touch of his heated mouth on the swollen crest of her breast. With a whisper-light touch of his tongue, he traced the shape, soothed the tip, then engulfed it inside the hot cavern of his mouth.

  He cradled her in his arms as if he never wanted to let he
r go. And that suited Kira fine, especially when he laved the downy skin between her breasts, soothed his hand over the curve of her hip, his fingers curling around her backside, drifting over her thigh until she felt a slow burn of fire.

  Murmuring something soft against her skin, he turned his attention to the other breast. Kira shivered against the whirl of sensation and clutched his head tightly against her. Arrows of pleasure darted from her nipples down to her belly and lower. Slowly, he explored her, consumed her, as if reveling in her soft surrender, as if he too treasured the tenuous feelings between them.

  But she wanted to consume him, too.

  Fitting a hand between them, she stroked the hard slabs of his chest, the rigid expanse of his stomach, and eased his drawers off to expose the lean taper of his hip.

  He groaned at her touch, moving restlessly above her. She fed his response by gliding her palm down the firm cheek of his buttocks.

  “Sweetheart,” he murmured against her neck. “The things you make me feel…”

  Her heart all but stopped at his confession. “You make me feel them too.”

  His sigh against her cheek sounded relieved as he caressed her thighs, fingers urging them apart.

  Readily, Kira complied, a part of her desperate to know Gavin’s solid strength inside her again. She wanted to be one with him, belong to him, to know that for this moment at least, he was hers alone.

  His body warm and damp, he pressed himself to her from breast to hips. Then with an unhurried stroke, Gavin found his way home.

  Kira felt filled, stretched even, but more, she felt Gavin, the rhythm of his heart against her, his murmurs and sighs of encouragement, the trail of his soft touch where she seemed to want it most.

  Carefully, he withdrew, nearly leaving her, before he entered her again in a long, slow meeting. Kira arched up to him, wondering if she’d ever known a bond so powerful, a moment so perfect.

  In London, she might have been mad enough at him to strangle him, but Kira could not deny that she loved him still.

  Then rational thought fled when Gavin trailed his thumb across the sensitive nub between her thighs in a silky caress as he pressed inside her once more. Desire soared with dizzying speed. He repeated the process until she felt drunk with need. She clung to him, deep pleasure resonating within her, expanding like a bubble with every stroke of his body into hers.