The Legacy

by Fayrene Preston

  Her eyes were wide as she watched his every move. “You shouldn’t have put yourself in danger like that,” she murmured.

  “Me?” He had a great urge to shake her for putting herself in such terrible danger. “Look at yourself. You’re nearly naked, and you were trying to put the fire out with your hands.”

  “I had the coverlet.”

  He wanted to take her in his arms, hold her tightly against him, and let her sweetness flow into him so that he'd forget the sight of the fire rising behind her like some menacing monster. He settled for returning to her side and venting his frustration. “Lord, Caitlin, what if I hadn’t been passing by? What if you’d fallen and hit your head and been knocked unconscious? You could have died of smoke inhalation, maybe even burned to death.”

  He must care, she thought absently. She was still somewhat numbed by the near disaster, but he must care at least a little about her. But was caring a little enough for her? “None of those things happened.”

  “No. Not this time, but this is exactly why you shouldn’t stay here by yourself next week.”

  "Then stay with me,” she said abruptly.

  Her quiet request was like a sudden punch in the stomach. He closed his eyes and shook his head. “I can’t, Caitlin.”

  “Why?”

  When he looked at her again and saw the shock that lingered in her eyes, he groaned. “Lord, what am I thinking of?” He swept her up in his arms and strode out of the room. “You need to be wrapped up and put in bed.”

  “I don’t have any more bedrooms made up. ”

  His arms tightened. “That’s all right. You're staying in my room tonight.”

  Nico’s bedroom was quiet; sill its sharp comers and edges were softened by shadows. Candles rising from a tall silver candelabrum emitted a pale glow that spread over the bed’s cream-satin coverlet and lapped at the surrounding circle of dark.

  He still cradled her in his arms, and to Caitlin, there was something infinitely right about the way her body fit against him, as if in some far distant past, they had been made from the same piece, separated, and were now together again. It was the same feeling she’d had this afternoon when he’d thrust into her.

  “Why did you bring me here?” she asked in the hush.

  He felt her warm breath against his cheek. Without choice, his hold on her tightened. “You’ve had a shock. I think the best thing for you would be to get into bed and cover up.”

  She considered that. "And you? Where will you be?”

  “Downstairs, somewhere, on a couch.”

  They had had hot passionate sex on the beach, but she had never spent the night in his arms, and now it appeared she never would. The idea was strangely unacceptable.

  But she had to accept. She had to.

  Her gaze dropped to his jaw and the muscle that briefly flickered, then returned to his taut profile. “At least let me see to your hand.”

  Slowly he eased his hold on her and let her feet slide to the floor until she stood without his support. His arms felt curiously empty. The pink-satin chemise followed her body’s shape, skimming over her breasts, catching on the tiny outward jut of her nipples, making a slight indentation at her waist before caressing the rounded curves of her hips and ending at her thighs. “You’re going to get chilled,” he said, his voice husky.

  “Being chilled is not my problem.”

  Her whispered response went straight through him like a scorching wind that left him parched for the taste of her. And when he looked into her eyes, he saw the shimmering reflection of a candle’s flame. Almost desperately, he reached for the fast-fading remnants of his strength. “I’m only trying to take care of you, Caitlin.”

  “I know that, but why?”

  Out of thin air, he created a reason. “Because you took me In when I needed a place to stay.”

  “Oh. So you’re grateful to me?”

  Caitlin in this mood was as dangerous as any gun he’d ever faced, and his tone was wary. “That’s right.” “Then since you’re so grateful, give me something I need.”

  "What?”

  “Help me understand you.”

  A sardonic smile lifted a comer of his mouth. “Trust me. Understanding me wouldn’t help a thing.” “I think it would.”

  She was tenacious, and he could tell that she wasn’t going to give up easily. He felt assaulted by her questions and her sensuality, and he badly needed a reprieve from her. In her bare feet, wearing a scrap of nothing, her hair tousled in silky waves around her face, she looked too soft, too sweet, too sexy. In short, too damn much like everything he’d ever wanted.

  And though he no longer held her, he could feel the heat coming from her body in waves, battering him, bruising him with need.

  “You’re right,” he muttered. “I should do something about my hands. ”

  He disappeared into the darkness of the bathroom, and she heard him turn on the tap. Staring after him, she tried to recall the moment after the fire when the idea had occurred to her that he might care. She wondered if she'd been right. Obviously he had been concerned for her safety. But was it only the concern one would feel for someone owed a favor? At this moment, she didn’t have a clue. Only a newfound hope. She might be setting herself up for another fall, but it did seem that he had held her longer than necessary once they’d reached this room. “Let me see your hands,” she said when he returned. “They’re fine.”

  “Then you won’t mind if I check them, will you?” she asked mildly, taking his arm and leading him to the candelabrum. In the brightness, she smoothed her hand across his, straightening his fingers to look for any sign of burn.

  Her touch was as light as the brush of a butterfly's wing, its effect nearly catastrophic.

  Tentatively she pressed a finger against the hard flesh of his palm. “Does that hurt?”

  He swallowed hard. Not as much as having you this close to me. “No.”

  She gave the other hand the same thorough inspection. When she finished, she kept the hand in hers. Lightly, idly, she rubbed the tops of his knuckles. “You were lucky. You could have been burned.”

  “So could you.” Compulsively, he stroked his free hand down her spine.

  The warmth from the candles caressed the side of her face. The warmth from his hand gliding down her back curled and gathered and grew, deep inside her. “No, not really.”

  “Yes, dammit, really. I’ve never seen anything like it. You think more of this house than you do of yourself.”

  “You’re exaggerating.”

  “Sweetheart, those flames were no exaggeration.” He reached out and stroked a finger across her cheek. “When I think of what those flames could have done to this skin—” The horror of his thoughts was apparent in the shakiness of his voice.

  “It sounds like you really care.”

  He took his hand away. Their lovemaking this afternoon was a living, vivid memory. His body clamored to have her again. It would be so easy ... so wonderful ... so mindbending. And that was the trouble. He couldn’t let his mind be rearranged. He would only hurt her more than he already had. Just now, he’d made a grave mistake by allowing his emotions to get the better of him. Now he had to try to repair the damage. “Of course I do,” he said in a casual, offhand way.

  “How much, Nico? How much do you care?”

  His dark brows drew together with annoyance, at himself and the circumstances that wouldn’t allow him to be honest with her. “What kind of question is that?”

  “A legitimate one. You see, you confuse me.” “There’s nothing to be confused about,” he said impatiently.

  His sharp reply didn’t disturb her. She sensed she was close to the answers she so desperately needed.

  “Really? Then make me understand how you can kiss me one minute and tell me to leave you alone the next. And how you can make love to me on the beach in the afternoon, then tell me that you’ll be leaving the next morning.”

  Yes, Nico, why don’t you do that? He felt the tightrop
e give a wide swing beneath him, and he reached for brutal honesty to keep him steady. “I kissed you and made love to you because I wanted to, more than I wanted to draw my next breath. I’m leaving because it’s best for you.”

  “That sounds like you think you might hurt me.” “Caitlin ...”

  “Do you think you’ll hurt me?”

  He could feel something breaking apart in him, but he continued to fight. With Caitlin, he needed honor, and he had a short supply. He slid his hand along the side of her neck and with a thumb beneath her chin, tilted her face up to his so that she wouldn’t miss one word of what he was about to say. “If I don’t leave in the next minute, I can almost guarantee that I will.”

  She studied his stern, closed expression. There was so much she didn’t know about him, so much she might never learn. But it was plain she had two choices: accept him as he was, or back away. The struggle on his face and the warning he had given her told her that in his way, he was trying to play fair. Or as much as he could, considering all that had already gone on between them. “You told me yourself that I’m tough. Remember?”

  “Yes, but I don't want to put you in the position of having to find out how tough you are.”

  “Perhaps, Nico, you already have.”

  It seemed to him at that moment that her eyes

  could see all the way to his soul. His teeth ground together as the pressure built inside him. “Maybe.” “You can be sure of it.”

  “No. I’m not sure about anything anymore. Except, Caitlin, that wanting you is eating me up inside.”

  “Inside?” With a boldness she wouldn’t have had this morning, she pushed his sweater up until she could run her palm over his abdomen. “Inside here?” He couldn’t control the shudder of hunger that ripped through him or his reply. “Yes. And lower.” Holding his gaze, she unbuckled his belt and undid his pants. His hand shot out to close over hers in a painful grip. Agony registered on his face and in the rawness in his voice, as if it hurt him to speak, to breathe. "I want you to know, if you go any further, you won’t have a choice. Despite all my sins and despite all my crimes, you will be mine.”

  “Sins, crimes, whatever—my choices are all gone, Nico.”

  With a harsh, fragmented sound, he yanked her against him and brought his mouth down on hers with an urgent, demanding need. She was right, he thought hazily. Choices had disappeared long ago.

  Her arms wrapped around his neck and held him tightly. Someone was trembling; she was sure it was she. But when she arched her back to press her breasts against his chest, a tremor racked his powerful body, and she knew she wasn’t alone in this wild, magnificient madness.

  Control lost once could be rationalized away. Control lost twice had to be accepted. In the past, control had meant the difference between life and death. Now all his protection was peeling away, leaving him forever defenseless to this woman he held in his arms. He was left with nothing but a fierce passion and an undying love for her.

  He backed her against the bed, then lowered her to the cream-satin coverlet and followed her down, entering a world of soft hues, sensual textures, and blazing passions.

  The chemise had ridden up, revealing narrow pink panties and ivory skin. With a groan, he pressed his face into the softness of her belly.

  Hot sweetness flooded through her. She inhaled sharply and held her breath, waiting for what was to come next, the expectancy a pleasure all its own. Then his tongue darted out to lick at her, and a low, broken moan escaped from her throat.

  The honeyed taste and satiny feel of her against the roughness of his tongue was a revelation to him. But the tiny shivers that coursed just beneath her skin brought him special delight. Gently he bit his way across her smooth flat stomach. Not a single mark showed his path—only a trail of fire.

  He eased her panties down her legs and off her feet. The picture she made, her hair spread out around her, intensified every emotion he was feeling. She was alluring colors, shapes, and textures. She was woman—his woman—with long lovely legs and the cinnamon triangle of hair at the apex of her thighs. “I need to see all of you,” he said, his voice a hoarse, desperate whisper, his endurance almost at an end.

  “Yes." She lifted the pink-satin chemise over her head, then lay back.

  The sight of her struck awe into his soul. The golden hue of her skin had never been more distinctive than it was against the cream coverlet. Her luminosity was almost blinding.

  He stripped off his sweater and bent to brush his lips against the hair between her legs. Involuntarily, her muscles contracted and her hips moved, giving him a deep satisfaction and reminding him that the most sensitive, most secret part of her awaited. His hand began to stroke her gently while his mouth fastened on the taut peak of her breast. His hunger for her was almost excruciating, but he was intent on making this the most pleasurable experience of her life, and he set about using all his efforts to that purpose.

  She gripped his shoulders as a shudder of rapture tore through her. His every caress and kiss sent wildfire through her veins. He lathed her nipple with his tongue, and she felt as if she was going to spiral away.

  Suddenly, urgently, Nico shifted and rose over her. “There’s so much I want to do to you and with you,” he said, his breathing rapid and uneven.

  “Show me.”

  Caught in a savage tension, he gave a rough laugh. “We’re going to need all night.”

  “We have that, and more.”

  “Not now. Now I’ve run out of time. . . .’’He quickly undressed, moved over and into her. She was ready, but he wasn’t. He’d thought he’d known passion before, but he’d been wrong. Once completely sheathed inside her sweet tightness, a wall of fire crashed over him, debilitating him, sucking all strength and air from his body, leaving nothing but a pulsing, merciless need, and he had to pause to catch his breath. For a moment, he was helpless against the incredible onslaught of feelings. Was it remotely possible that it could always be like this? he wondered. The thought was almost impossible to believe. But his answer came when she began to undulate and strain against him. A driving force took possession of him, and he knew that it would be.

  A floodgate opened, sending unbelievable pleasure in cascades over them, drenching them with ecstasy until they were saturated and could take no more.

  The candles burned lower and lower, their flames dancing unnoticed in the heated air. And there was no relief from the rapture. It continued through the night.

  Gradually, one by one, the candles guttered down and went out. Finally, at dawn’s first light, Nico and Caitlin fell asleep, tangled together, arms and legs, hearts and minds, bodies and souls.

  Caitlin’s hair spilled over one bare shoulder in a shining fall as she came up on her elbow and gazed down on Nico’s sleeping face. The wariness had come back over him while he slept, but she wasn’t concerned. Last night they had shared something extraordinary, and all her doubts and confusion had vanished.

  Through his lovemaking, she’d learned that he was a giving, generous, caring person. She’d learned that he could be both gentle and strong, tender and erotically rough. And if when he opened his eyes this morning and looked at her, she saw an expression that was difficult to read, she wouldn’t worry. She’d learned he cared for her, and she believed with all her heart that love could grow from caring.

  Adoringly, her gaze strayed over him, stopping to study the leanly muscled torso and the broad chest covered with a mat of curly black hair. At times in the night she had lain limply on his chest, fighting for breath and covered in sweat. He had soothed her, murmuring reassurance. And then they had started again.

  A brief frown creased her forehead as she noticed the two angry red scars—aberrant marks against the perfection of his sleek, dark skin. The position of his body prevented her from seeing the entire length of the wounds, but she remembered their ridged feel beneath her fingertips. When she thought of the damage the bullets had done to his body, she gave thanks that he had escaped with o
nly scars.

  She reached out a hand to smooth a dark lock from his brow. His long thick lashes lifted to reveal warm smiling brown eyes.

  “Did I wake you?” she asked.

  “Yes. Did you intend to?”

  She grinned. "Yes. I decided as long as I was awake, you should be awake too.”

  “That’s what you decided, was it?”

  She nodded, enjoying his morning voice. It had the relaxed, husky timbre of intimacy. “It’s nice watching you. You wake gently, as if you’re saving your strength for what will come next.”

  “What do you think will come next?”

  A sudden erotic urge flashed through her. “Something wonderful,” she murmured, and was taken completely by surprise as he shifted his position, cupped one of her breasts with his long fingers, and drew the nipple into his mouth. Her head went back, and her eyelids fluttered closed as an all-consuming heat took possession of her. He tugged and teased at the tormented point until she gasped and cried out. Then he pulled her mouth down to his and kissed her long and deep.

  “Good morning,” he said when he was done.

  She slid down beside him, facing him, and threw her leg over his hip. She didn’t know what time it was, and she didn’t care. Activity had probably begun in other parts of the house, and decisions were waiting to be made. But she didn’t care about that either. He controlled her. And if he wanted, she’d stay in this bed forever. “Promise me we can always wake up together like this.”

  A low growl came from his throat. He pushed her over onto her back and surged powerfully and deeply into her, his muscles now coiled, his expression savage with desire. “If I have anything to say about it, we will.”

  She choked back a cry, wrapped herself around him, and let the wildness begin.

  A long time later, the harsh, insistent sound of knocking and a faraway voice pierced through the softness of her dreams. She felt the mattress shift with Nico’s weight as he sat up. Rubbing her eyes clear of sleep, she saw that he was pulling on a pair of pants. “Who is it?”