Sabrina hustled to collect every spare blanket, then dropped the pile onto the bed, constructing a dense wall.
For what she hoped would be the last time that evening, she crawled onto her side of the bed and closed her eyes, giving Anthony her back again. She could feel those intense green eyes watching her, burrowing a hole right through her. She ignored the faint tremors dancing along her spine.
The mattress dipped at his sinking weight, and she rolled into the depression. Quickly scooting forward, she virtually teetered on the edge of the bed.
Wide-eyed, alert to every movement or change in sound, she waited for her bed partner to drift off to sleep, though if the passing minutes were any indication, it would be a long wait. Anthony tossed to one side, then rolled onto his other, where he was still for all of two seconds before flopping onto his back. When the wall of blankets was shoved up against her own back, she realized he’d moved again, and this time he was far too close to her side of the bed.
“What are you doing?” she demanded stiffly.
“Just trying to get comfortable.”
His gruff voice was unnervingly close.
“Well, stop it,” she hissed.
“You’d rather I be uncomfortable?”
“I’d rather you lie still.”
He sighed. “I’ll never be able to fall asleep with those damned crickets.”
“They’re the sounds of the night and I can’t sleep without them.”
“They’re more the sounds of my nightmares.”
“It takes some getting used to,” she mumbled.
“Can you really ever get used to it?”
“One day, maybe. The noises are as calming to me as any silence.”
He grumbled, “I think I’ll always prefer the silence.”
“Then this will be an interesting night for you.”
“Will it?”
An abrupt innocence crept into his voice, and her insides did a full-about turn at the sound of his playfulness. She’d not expected his mood to shift so quickly, nor had she meant to suggest anything. Her cheeks tinted. How the devil had that remark slipped passed her lips?
She rushed to move their talk in a different direction. “I’ll close the window if you can’t sleep.”
His hand shot over the wall of blankets to brace against her shoulder and push her back down against the bed.
“It’s all right. Like you said, it takes some getting used to.”
That he’d reached her so effortlessly proved how poor the wall she’d built really was—not that she’d consider tearing it down.
“Sabrina.”
She gripped her pillow. “What?”
“Since neither of us can sleep…I suggest we finish our interrupted kiss.”
The pillow smacked across his face.
Anthony reached over the barrier, dove his arm under her back, and hoisted her right up over the divider.
She hit the wall of muscle and gasped at the alarming feel of hard pectorals quivering under the weight of her body. Fingers wove tightly through her hair. Another hand clamped over her lower back, making it impossible for her to push away.
Her breath trapped in her throat at the smile he bestowed. In the moonlight, it was a devilish smile, not sinister in nature, but certainly roguish, and definitely handsome. But the man had lost his mind if he believed she’d actually consent to such a suggestion. And since the shock of what was happening deprived her of words, she responded by wiggling soundly in his arms. The more she struggled to get away, though, the more rigid his muscles grew, until she heard the deep, rumbling groan.
She stopped squirming, still as stone, and stifled a groan of her own, though it had nothing to do with her mounting desire, and everything to do with her foolishness for having ignited his.
“Anthony, I—”
“Shhhh,” he whispered against her lips, caressing her hair, the lower curve of her spine. “Don’t fight it.”
That won’t be too hard, she thought dismally. Hot, sultry breaths warmed her already flushed features, and she found herself sinking even deeper into the dark pools of his hypnotic eyes. If she didn’t pull away in the next instant, to hell with reason, she would lose herself to the tempest threatening to consume them both.
An instant passed.
Into the swirling waters she leapt.
Gripping the silk of his shirt, as though it were her lifeline, she didn’t resist when he gently lowered her head and pressed his lips to hers, thrilling her, alarming her, leaving her clinging desperately to him for guidance.
She had never dreamed anything could feel so wonderful. An upsurge of sensations soaked through her every pore. No gypsy wives’ tale had ever been so vivid. No one had ever mentioned just how heart-pounding, soul-wrenching such an experience could be.
The moist tip of his tongue skipped over her lips, once, twice, and on the third flick, he dipped into her mouth. A rush of air filled her lungs. Her pulse sprinted at the hot feel of him delving inside her. Each probing thrust of his tongue grew more urgent than the last, and her lips were eager, possessive, hungry in return.
“Anthony,” she breathed heavily against his mouth.
In an instant, the wall of blankets was kicked clean off the bed and their coiled bodies spun once, so Sabrina found herself pinned under his weight instead. And what a difference it made to feel his body on top of hers. A glorious tension twined in her belly. Her inner thighs prickled and ached, as the slow, feathery touch of his hand slid along her calf, lifting her skirt up over her knees. A surge of cold air whooshed over her legs. Goose pimples tickled her flesh and she shuddered violently.
It was frightening, the storm of emotions inside her. How could he make her feel this way? How could she cope with the thought of losing her heart, her very soul to this man? And what of the devastation she would feel when it came time for her and Anthony to part? What of the devastation she would cause her father if she was to return to her camp in disgrace?
A sudden panic overtook her. “Anthony!”
But his mouth clamped down harder over hers, bringing a decisive end to her lapse into reason.
Sabrina gulped in drafts of much-needed air when his lips finally left hers to tend to her neck, her chest…
The laces at her collar already loose, he merely slipped her blouse down one shoulder to expose a bare breast to his parted lips.
“So beautiful,” he whispered raggedly, reverently, a deep crimson blush springing into her cheeks at the awe she heard in his voice.
His hot mouth covered her nipple, fast hardening under the languid caress of his tongue. She whimpered at the intense feelings bubbling inside her and clawed at his shoulders. Pure heaven was all she could think of. Her fingers moved to knit tightly through his golden mane, and she pressed his head harder against her breast in an instinctive cry for more. He appeased her demand most willingly, drawing her deep into his mouth and suckling, sending a hand under her blouse to attentively knead her other breast.
A whip of heat lashed her skin at the feel of those powerful fingers rocking the mound. His thumb rubbed the sensitive bud of her nipple, already tightening, shrinking between the friction of each deft and eager stroke.
She wanted to weep between the disparity of her own desire and her sense of duty. The act of love may be cherished and celebrated by her people—and with good reason—but only between a husband and wife. She could not go home dishonored. She would have to live with that dishonor for the rest of her life.
A second break in the sensuous storm provided her with a chance for escape, and this time she was more adamant.
She grasped the sides of his head and forced him to meet her gaze. “Anthony, I can’t.”
Her voice was heavy, smoky, and yet crackled with apprehension. He looked into her eyes so passionately, she felt an overwhelming impulse to move her fingers to his wet brow and brush away the moist curl dangling over his eye. She did so lightly, tenderly.
They just held each other for
a time, waiting for the surge of passion to subside, neither willing to let the other go.
With a deep sigh, Anthony dropped his head to her shoulder and eventually nestled against her breast.
She didn’t make one word of protest when he went to sleep in her arms that night, his ear pressed snugly over her heart. It stomped so loudly in her chest, she was sure he had heard every resounding beat.
Chapter 14
“D o you intend to peel the skin away?”
Crouching by the stream, a bemused Sabrina suddenly demanded, “What?”
“Your face,” said Anthony. “You’ve been scrubbing it for the last five minutes.”
Had she? She looked down at her wet hands. He must be exaggerating. It didn’t seem like five minutes had passed.
Lifting the hem of her skirt, she patted her face dry, and cast one final look at her distorted reflection in the rippled water before moving away from the shoreline.
She turned to find Anthony kneeling a little ways off, Shadow’s hoof in his lap. He was digging out the pebbles that had wedged themselves in between the metal shoe. Her heart fairly tripped at the sight of him. It had been doing that all morning. She had yet to bring the erratic beats under control. It was midday and still her jitters were as strong as ever. Since setting out from the inn at dawn, her nerves were on constant edge. Memory of the night she and Anthony had shared—or almost shared—tumbled through her mind even now, sending color blooming to her cheeks.
She had tried to hide the adorning blush by dabbing some cold water over her flushed features, but the heat glowing from her skin could not be doused. It didn’t help matters that Anthony looked so dashing. His formal evening wear tucked away in his bag, he’d replaced the elegant garments with the more ordinary garb of dark britches and a riding coat, though the snug fit of leather over hard muscled thighs was anything but ordinary in her eyes.
Shadow snorted when his hoof was released. With a pat on the rump to encourage him, the horse stepped toward the bank and dipped his muzzle into the icy stream.
Anthony’s gaze then settled on her. The sunlight danced in his eyes, the reflective pools flashing like emerald gems, winking in full brilliancy.
He advanced.
Her stomach knotted.
“Should we reach your camp by tomorrow, do you think?”
She struggled for words. “Tomorrow night, perhaps, or the morning after.”
“And you’re sure the caravan will still be there?”
“My people would never leave without me,” she insisted.
“I only wanted to make sure you had a home to go to.”
The softness of his voice sent her pulse tapping. Swift, energetic little beats. And when his eyes darkened at their prolonged stares, and her pulse pattered even faster, she found something else to occupy her attention, narrowing in on Anthony’s horse.
He followed her gaze. “We should get going.”
She let out a weary sigh, as he sauntered over to the animal. It was hard being so close to Anthony, feeling those intense green eyes burrowing through her, wanting to reach out and stroke that finely chiseled face, and press her fingertips over a pair of soft lips. Lips that had given her so much pleasure the night before…
She curled her hands into fists, just in case she was daft enough to try anything so absurd.
Anthony stood next to Shadow and waited for the animal to have his fill of water. When the horse reared his head and nuzzled his chin over his master’s unruly curls, he let out a deep, hearty chuckle, patting the great beast’s neck in return for the affectionate gesture.
Sabrina’s eyes never wavered from the pair.
First to mount, Anthony nudged the horse forward and extended his hand for her to climb up behind him.
“Are you sure you’d rather not ride up front?”
She just stared at the open palm. What was the matter with her? She’d ridden all morning behind Anthony with no catastrophic results. Why now, all of a sudden, was she so hesitant?
“I’ll walk,” she said brusquely, and headed through the sparse brush, back toward the main road.
Shadow’s muzzle veered over her shoulder as the animal fell in step behind her.
“You’re not walking back to your camp,” he objected. “You’ve been laid up for days and are still too weak.”
“I don’t intend to walk all the way home, just a few miles. I feel fine.”
She heard a sigh behind her and was sure it hadn’t come from the horse.
She was right. Anthony dismounted and took Shadow by the reins. He was at her side, so close, they bumped arms, and she took one giant step away from him to avoid any more jolts along the way.
A quick glance at him and she caught the mellow lines of his profile shift into a smile. Damn that rogue! He found her anxiety amusing, and she wasn’t the least bit indulgent of his humor. She was having enough trouble keeping her wits about her without his laughing at her to make matters worse. What’s more, his smile was always the most disarming of all his qualities.
When she next risked a sidelong glimpse at him, it was to find his features were inscrutable. Gone was that wicked smile, but the mischievous gleam in his bright green eyes still sparkled.
She wanted to ignore him, but she wanted him back on his horse even more.
“What are you doing?” she demanded.
“Walking alongside you.”
At that hedging response, she inquired impatiently, “Why?”
“If you insist on being stubborn, then I’ll prove equally as headstrong. What if you faint? Someone has to catch you.”
But his unnerving presence faded into the back of her mind just then, as her attention was snagged elsewhere. With a sense of delight, her eyes narrowed on what appeared to be a cluster of knotted vines. She walked over to the bush for a closer inspection. It was!
“Sabrina, what’s the matter with you?”
It did look rather odd, her tugging and tugging, and the willful branches refusing to give way. But she didn’t care. She ignored his question and bent each of the three stems until they snapped, the knotted cluster of intersecting vines falling into her palm.
With a triumphant smile, she looked up to find a perplexed Anthony watching her with interest.
“Did you just do battle with a bush?”
“More like battle with the faeries,” she clarified.
“I beg your pardon?”
She held up the tangled vines. “See how they’re knotted?”
Narrowing in on the interwoven mess, he nodded. “So?”
“It means the faeries have tied them.” Fastened to the horse was her bag, and she tucked the tiny bundle of vines inside. “It’s a powerful charm.”
He gave her an odd look. “I think you’ve gone too long without food. Perhaps we should break for luncheon before moving on.”
Since she was rather hungry, she readily agreed, though not before she gave him an annoyed look for his dry remark.
Anthony tethered his horse to a nearby bush and collected a small bundle of food wrapped in white linen. He had purchased the fare from the inn before they’d departed.
Settling onto the mossy grass, sheltered by a light canopy of sparsely lined trees, they broke their fast, dividing the smoked ham and bread between them. Neither said a word to the other for the first little while, content with their meal and the tranquil surroundings. But that all changed soon enough.
“Do you often see faeries?”
His voice was smooth. It was deep and rich to be sure, but she couldn’t tell by his tone if he was merely curious in his inquiry or if he was humoring her.
“The faeries don’t show themselves to gypsies, or to anyone else for that matter. They like to cause mischief when no one’s looking.”
“Where do they live?”
“Some live in the forest, others in the fields, and there are those that live in the water.”
A blond brow arched. “Nymphs, you mean?”
She nodd
ed.
“Ah, then they do show themselves to man, for I have seen one.”
He was smiling. She’d seen that smile before. It was a boyish grin, charming, with the strength to knock the very breath from her lungs. Her voice dropped to a whisper. “You’ve seen one?”
Anthony broke his bread, the crumbs raining down over his black leather boots. “Some time ago, I was walking through the woods when I came upon a stream and beheld a water nymph.”
He sounded sincere, like a boy with a secret he readily wished to impart. She forgot all about her food as she leaned in to better hear him. “What did the nymph look like?”
“She was very beautiful,” he said softly, the hue of his green eyes darkening. “Glistening water drops bathed her body like a torrent of jewels. Her long, flowing hair was as black as soot, her eyes as blue as the sea.”
There was an unexpected jolt in the pit of her stomach, followed by a scarlet tint that crept into her cheeks. He was talking about her. No one had ever said such…nice things about her. To hear herself described with reverence and in such flowery terms left her heart thumping in her ears and her limbs refusing to move.
Slowly, his hand came up to caress her cheek. It was a tender touch, leaving her skin prickling all over. “The nymph was every bit as enchanting as legend claims.” His powerful fingers moved to brush over her mouth in feathery strokes. “I’ve never come across anyone so lovely. She will haunt my memory for some time to come.”
Sabrina seemed to fall into his heavenly green eyes. And it was a swift, deep fall. She realized then she wanted to spend the rest of her life with him and be happy. And deep down in her heart she knew she could be—if only there was a place on earth where they could be together.
But there wasn’t.
She could no more break with the traditions of her world than he could with his. And short of creating their own world, they could never be together.
The bleak truth struck her soundly. The sadness of it all overwhelmed her, as though a weight was crushing her chest. And then the fear of growing too fond of a man she could never be with encouraged her to break away from his entrancing eyes.
She pulled back. The look in Anthony’s eyes was that of a glowing fire, vowing to consume her. She could feel herself being pulled into that fire and quickly scrambled to her feet.
A Forbidden Love Page 13
