by Keri Arthur
Happiness doesn’t happen all that often, Helen had been fond of saying. So seize it by the scruff of its neck and enjoy it while it lasts. Let the future worry about itself.
And just this once, she was going to do precisely that.
Don’t stop. She turned her face and kissed his palm. He shifted his hand, running a thumb lightly across her lips. She caught it in her mouth, sucking on it gently.
His breath seemed to catch, and heat flowed through the link, setting her body alight. She let his thumb go and leaned forward, kissing his lips, exploring the warmth of his mouth with her tongue, greedy to taste him more fully.
He skimmed a hand across her shoulders and down her back, catching her bra and deftly undoing it.
She pulled back a little, her heart pounding and her breathing harsh. Lord, they’d barely even kissed and already she was aching with need. In some ways, it was scary just how attuned she was to him.
If we do have to run, this is going to be get awfully embarrassing, she thought, as he pushed the bra to one side.
That it will. He didn’t seem unduly worried by the prospect. He ran a finger around the outline of her nipples, teasing them to aching life without actually touching them.
You’re not playing fair. She tugged his T-shirt free from the waistband of his jeans, pushing it upward. He caught her hand, taking the T-shirt and deftly pulling it off.
You did that a little too easily. Are you sure you don’t make a habit of trying to seduce women in confined spaces?
His amusement shimmered through her, spreading like a wave through her body, tingling even her toes. I have to admit, this is not a place I’ve ever been tempted to try before.
Oh yeah? So where have you been tempted to try? She touched his chest, running her fingers down the plane of his stomach, cupped her hand around the hard length of him, gently rubbing through his jeans. Desire burned through the link between them, ready to explode.
My favorite would be under the stars. He ran his hand down her stomach and began undoing the button on her jeans.
Her breath caught, the anticipation of his touch becoming a pulse deep inside.
There is something very erotic about two people making love under the light of a moon on a warm summer night, he continued, undoing her zipper.
There was something very erotic about making love under a dusty old bed with the chance of discovery only a quick gasp away, too. He pushed past her panties and touched her, slipping his finger down her wetness and thrusting inside. She shuddered, pushing against his hand and barely restraining her moan.
His lips caught hers. She kissed him hard and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him against her until her breasts were deliciously squashed against his chest and all she could feel was him caressing, thrusting, deep inside her.
Outside, in the hall, footsteps sounded.
Deep inside the ache was growing. Oh God, stop … stop, her mind begged, even though it was the last thing she wanted.
He stopped. She leaned her forehead against his chest, her breath ragged. The thunder of his heart rang through her ears but failed to drown out the thump of footsteps moving past. The bathroom light came on again.
What is it with these people? Haven’t they got a toilet at home?
His smile shone through her. He brushed a kiss across the top of her head. It’s our male visitor this time.
She looked up. How can you tell?
Lifted the toilet seat.
She smiled and began planting tiny kisses across his chin. He raised a hand, cupping her cheek, catching her mouth and deepening the kiss again. The toilet flushed and the footsteps moved away. A few seconds later, the back door slammed.
Alone again. Shall we continue this in a more comfortable position? He hesitated. Or would you rather stop altogether?
You stop now, and I think I will explode with frustration.
You wouldn’t be the only one. He smiled and kissed her briefly, tenderly. Their minds merged, and just for an instant, his desire scorched through her. But right behind it, following like a tidal wave, came his feelings. She closed her eyes, shaken to the core. She didn’t deserve the depth of those emotions. Didn’t know if her own feelings could ever truly match his.
“I don’t expect them to. Not yet.” He brushed the hair from her eyes, his touch shivering heat through her heart, her soul. “You asked for time before, and that’s all I want myself. Time together, so that you can more fully understand both my feelings and yours. Because those feelings are there, and so strong that I can almost taste them.”
Her gaze searched his, and she wondered whether he was right or was merely hoping it to be the truth. The touch of wistfulness in his tone suggested it might be the latter, and it crystalized the fear that he would leave and not come back. But right then, she didn’t really care. They had this moment to enjoy, and for once in her life, fear of the unknown was going to take a backseat.
“Kirby, you have to trust me—and trust the fact that while I may have to go back to the U.S., I will come back for you.”
Maybe. Maybe not. “If they’ve left, can we please take this discussion elsewhere? The dust is starting to get up my nose.”
He laughed softly and rolled out from under the bed. She followed, and he wrapped a hand around her forearm, helping her up, then pulling her close.
“Now, where were we?” He began sliding her shirt off her shoulders.
Excitement thrummed through her. She cleared her throat and raised an eyebrow. “Here? I thought we were moving to someplace more comfortable. You can hardly call a single bed comfortable.”
“Depends who’s in it with you.” His grin was roguish and made her heart do somersaults. Her bra quickly joined her shirt on the floor. “Now, let’s do something about those jeans, huh?”
He knelt, his tongue trailing heat down her stomach. She shivered in delight, anticipation growing. He slid her jeans and panties down her legs, allowing her to step out. Then he delved into her moistness, the caress of his tongue whisper soft and oh so arousing. She gasped, excitement pulsing through her, until every nerve ending screamed for release. He rose, claiming her mouth again and kissing her hard. He slipped his hand between her legs and stroked her, gently at first, then faster when the tremors began. She moaned, clinging to him, thrusting against his touch, climaxing hard and fast. She wished he were inside, climaxing with her, and yet not wanting it to end so soon.
“Nor shall it,” he murmured. “That, my love, was merely an appetizer.” He kissed her neck, her shoulders, then captured her nipple in his mouth, sucking lightly.
She gasped, and the embers she thought well sated sprang back to life. She pulled away from his touch. “Then by all means, let’s share.”
He arched an eyebrow and raised his hands, a teasing smile on his lips. “My body is yours to play with.”
“And a beautiful toy it is, too,” she murmured as she knelt.
She slowly undid his jeans and eased them down, taking his shorts with them. Allowed him to step out, then slowly ran her tongue up his leg and teasingly caressed the hard length of him until heat filled the link and threatened to burn them both.
She rose and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him against her, until the heat of his body seemed to invade every pore. She kissed him urgently, felt his hands cup her bottom and draw her closer, until his erection pressed deep into her stomach.
He kissed her neck, her breasts, trailing fire through her body. She groaned and pushed him back onto the bed, straddling him and pressing him against her moistness. Slowly, teasingly, she rocked back and forth. God, she wanted him inside so much she ached. But not yet. Not just yet.
He made a needy sound deep in his throat and reached for her, pulling her down against his chest and kissing her hard. She continued to rock, teasing them both, until the flames of desire burned through their minds and threatened to consume them.
Deep within her the trembling was growing, becoming a tide almost overloadi
ng her senses. She rubbed harder and heard his response—a quick, sharp gasp. Could feel him quivering and knew he was battling for control.
He released her lips, then ducked his head and caught her nipple, sucking hard. She gasped, and the tide became a wave of pleasure she could no longer hold at bay. Needing him inside, she shifted and captured him fully. He groaned, thrusting urgently, pushing her over the brink into ecstasy. She moaned and rode him hard, until their tremors had finally eased and they both were spent.
She collapsed against his chest, and he wrapped his arms around her, holding her as if he never meant to let her go. She closed her eyes and wished that were the case. And the doubts rose once more, teasing her insecurities to life.
“Tell me,” she said into the silence. “Have you got a girlfriend back home in America? A wife, even?”
For several heartbeats he didn’t answer, then he sighed softly. “Thieving was a job, not a philosophy.”
She looked up at him. “What has that got to do with the question at hand?”
“Everything.” He grabbed her waist and somehow reversed their positions. For several seconds, his gaze searched hers, then he smiled a warm, loving smile that sang through her soul.
“If I make a commitment to someone, I honor that commitment.” He cupped her cheek, caressing her lips with his thumb. She didn’t move—couldn’t move, pinned by the emotion in his eyes as much as the weight of his body. “I’ve had girlfriends, yes, but the emphasis should be placed on ‘friends.’ I have never felt the need to take it any further. But after so many years of disbelief and denial, I have discovered I am my father’s son after all.”
His words confused and, in some sense, frightened her. She frowned. “What do you mean?”
“You need to know where I stand, and I guess I understand that.” He hesitated, and the sudden seriousness in his eyes made her breath catch in her throat.
Don’t say any more, she wanted to say. I’m just not ready to hear any more. But the words refused to come out, and all she could do was stare at him, an odd mix of yearning and trepidation filling her.
“I have never said this to anyone else. Before now, before I met you, I thought I never would.” He hesitated again, and she felt her mouth go dry.
“Marry me,” he added softly.
FOR SEVERAL SECONDS KIRBY SIMPLY STARED AT HIM. Part of her ached to say yes—to grab hold of him while she could and never let him go. But the other half, the part so afraid to trust, stepped back, unable to believe that any emotional commitment made in the midst of danger could be real and lasting. They didn’t know each other, damn it! How could he possibly ask such a question after being with her for little more than forty-eight hours?
“Remember my father and grandfather,” he said, a smile touching his full lips. “Forty-eight hours is a lifetime compared to them.”
“I can’t—” Her voice came out as little more than a harsh whisper. She hesitated, swallowing to ease the ache in her throat. “I can’t give you an answer. Not now. Not until I’m sure.” Sure that she had a future to consider. Sure that what she was feeling was real, and not just a side effect of the situation she found herself in.
“I know. And I don’t really expect one. Not now. Not even in the next few weeks or months.”
He brushed a kiss across her lips, and warmth shivered through her soul. If this wasn’t love, then what the hell was it? She closed her eyes, battling tears. He continued softly, “But you needed to know what I planned, and now you do. I may have to go back home when all this is finished, but it won’t be for long. I intend to come back, and I intend to make you part of my life, no matter how long that takes.”
“But what about your work? Surely that’s more important.”
“Work can wait. I don’t care.”
“But—”
“Hush.” He kissed her again, deeper and longer than before.
Longing surged through her, mingling with need.
When he finally pulled away from the kiss, he said, “Worry about the details later. For now, just concentrate on the only question that matters—do you love me? Once you answer that, everything else will fall into place.”
“Nothing is that simple,” she murmured, wishing that it were.
“I’ll make it that simple.” He caressed her cheek, gently thumbing away a tear. “Just tell me yes or no.”
She closed her eyes. “What if I say no?”
He went still, but pain surged between them, so deep and stark that tears stung her eyes. He obviously feared this might be her answer, despite everything.
“If you say no, then I’ll accept that and walk away.”
The thought tore at her. While she wasn’t sure of her feelings, she was sure of one thing. She couldn’t let him walk away. Not yet. Maybe not ever. “I just need time,” she repeated softly, more to calm her own fears than his.
She wrapped her arms around his neck and stared into his beautiful eyes. The sheer depth of love and understanding she saw there chased a shiver through her soul. She still wasn’t sure if she was even capable of understanding such depths, let alone of returning them. Right now, she didn’t even want to think about it. After all, the witch was still out there, and tonight might be all the time they had left together. “So, while I decide whether I’m a coward or not, what are we going to do?”
He raised an eyebrow and glanced at his watch. “We have two hours before we have to prepare for the ceremony. We could go eat those strawberries I prepared.” He hesitated, shifting slightly, his eyes sparkling mischievously. “Or we could lie here and talk a bit more.”
He slid inside her, hot and hard. She raised an eyebrow, amazed that he could be ready again so soon—and amazed that she could be. “Talking suits me just fine,” she murmured, wrapping her legs around his so that he couldn’t escape.
His smile shimmered through her heart. He kissed her, his mouth gently demanding. From that moment on, there wasn’t a lot of conversation to be had, and she didn’t give a damn.
DOYLE CROSSED HIS ARMS, WATCHING KIRBY CAREFULLY unwrap the present Helen had left her. Once the ribbon and paper had been removed, she peeled off the tape holding the lid down, letting it fly away on the wind as she opened the box. She didn’t say anything for several seconds, but a frown marred her features.
“What’s wrong?” he asked immediately.
“Nothing.” She plucked a folded piece of paper from the box. “I guess I was just expecting something more than a note.”
If Helen had gifted Kirby with her powers, then she certainly had left more than just a note. “Open it.”
She hesitated, then bit her lip and did so. Her voice was little more than a whisper when she finally spoke. “It’s a spell. She’s left me—”
“All that she was,” he finished for her.
She nodded, blinking back tears as she met his gaze. “Why do that? Why the hell didn’t she just keep her powers and save herself?”
“Maybe she couldn’t. Maybe she knew there was no escaping her fate, and this was her way of stopping the witch from getting her powers.” He glanced at the time. They would have to get moving if they were going to be ready by midnight.
“She could have run from her fate. It wouldn’t be the first time we’d done it.”
“Her name was given to the manarei,” he reminded her gently. “Not yours. She couldn’t have outrun her fate, not without endangering your life as well.”
She didn’t reply, but he could feel her pain and her anger so fiercely it might as well have been his own. And while he ached to comfort her, they simply didn’t have the time. “Kirby,” he added, “we need to get ready.”
She took a deep, somewhat shuddery breath, then nodded. “Tell me what to do.”
He handed her a small dagger, then took the note from her. “Cut a circle around those items we have on the ground and make it large enough for you to sit comfortably in.”
As she did so, he read the note. As he’d feared, Helen’s inst
ructions were quite specific on one point—no one could be in the protective circle with her when she invoked the spell.
It worried him. He had no doubt this spell was dangerous, which was why he was taking as many precautions as he could. But the best way of protecting her was to be with her, helping with the spell, sharing his energy with her and watching for dangers. With that option gone, he was left with little more to do than prowl around the outside of the circle and hope like hell nothing went wrong.
She finished the dirt circle and glanced up. “What now?”
“Pour the water along the line you’ve just drawn, but make sure you don’t step out of the circle.” Once she’d finished that, he added, “And do the same with the salt.”
She nodded and walked around again. The wind caught at her nightdress, twisting it around her bare legs. Even though the moon was lost to the clouds and provided very little light, the outline of her body was visible through the sheer material. He scrubbed a hand across his jaw. While he understood the need for her to be wearing something special, something clean and new, for the spell, he wished it had been anything else but the nightie. She looked too vulnerable. Too desirable. It could attract the wrong sort of attention just as easily as the right.
Overhead, thunder rumbled, an ominous sound in the night’s silence. He glanced at his watch. Helen’s note said to be ready by midnight. It was three minutes to.
“Done.”
He met her gaze, saw the fear lurking in the depths of her eyes. Wished again that he could hold her. Comfort her. “Good. Now sit in the middle and take several deep, calming breaths.”
She did, crossing her legs, her arms resting on her knees, palms up, as if meditating.
“Now, I want you to raise your body energy by tightening your muscles. Start at your toes, and work your way up. Imagine the energy as a purple mist … Squeeze it up through your body until it reaches your hands.”
He hesitated, waiting. Saw her slowly tense, felt the thrum of magic beginning to pulse through the air. Midnight was a minute away. They didn’t have much time. “Now, without moving, send that energy out through your fingers and in a clockwise circle around you. Imagine yourself encased in an orb of purple fire. Feel the power of it pulsing through you and out into the night.”
