by Sandy James
“You don’t understand, loving...”
Goddess, she needed to know what was going through Ian’s mind, but all she could think about was sleeping for the next three days. “Help me understand.”
* * *
Ian’s heart ached as if Helen’s sword still rested in his body. Seeing his older brother hurt so much more than he’d anticipated. The anger and thirst for justice that had always bolstered him against any sentimentality when he’d thought of Artair had disappeared. The instant Ian saw the joy in his brother’s eyes, Ian’s rage fled.
He’d forgotten what had brought him back from limbo—the need for revenge and to repay the hurt and insult that had been done to him. All Ian had known was the overwhelming love a younger brother held for the older brother who’d raised him from bairn to man. Images of what they’d shared—the hunts, the training, the good times with their clan—assaulted Ian, fighting with the hurt and pain that seemed as vivid as if he was still tied to that stake.
He closed his eyes as he recalled the flames lashing his skin, the smoke filling his lungs. A shudder ripped through him.
Sarita squeezed his hand. Her hair was entirely black again, although her eyes were ice blue.
“I donnae wish to talk now!” Ian exploded, letting his tumultuous emotions take the reins. He’d never liked to be in crowds, and at that moment, Sarita’s bedchamber was as busy as a marketplace. “Leave us!”
Gina stared hard at Sarita. While the other two women seemed concerned, it was Gina who’d needed to touch Sarita with her own hands. The link between them was so strong, he could almost see the threads tying their thoughts.
Gina gave him a brisk nod. “There’s plenty of time to straighten this out later. Let’s give Sarita and Darian...um...Ian some space. She’s exhausted.”
“I’ll not leave my brother,” Artair insisted. “Not until I have some answers, damn it.”
“I have no brother,” Ian whispered in return.
Rebecca took her husband’s hand in hers. “Artair...not now. We’ll figure this all out, just not now. The kids need us.”
“Bairns? You have bairns?” Ian damned himself for asking, but Helen had never given him information about children being in Avalon. He knew about each and every Amazon, but nothing of their families.
“Aye,” Artair replied. “Two—Bonnie and Darian. I named my son for you.”
Would the pain never end? Artair had moved on, creating a new life for himself while Ian had suffered. He couldn’t acknowledge the honor Artair had given him.
But Ian couldn’t forget, nor could he forgive. Not yet.
“Let’s go.” Gina shooed everyone away with the back of her hand. She glanced back. “I’ll be back later to check on Sarita.”
“We donnae need any help.”
She pulled her lips into a thin line. “Fine. Why don’t you both join us for a late lunch tomorrow at my house?”
Zach chuckled. “Gina’s going to cook? God help us all.” His jest fell flat, not a single person laughing.
Gina punched him lightly on the shoulder. “Come to our house tomorrow, Ian. That’ll give you both a chance to rest and get comfortable.”
Sarita was the one to reply. “We’ll be there.”
“Only if you’re ready, sis.”
“I will be.”
Alone at last, Ian stared down at Sarita. In a matter of seconds, her breathing grew deep and even, and the worry lines around the corners of her eyes disappeared.
He was torn between being grateful she was getting the rest she needed and his own need to talk to her. This woman who was supposed to have been nothing but a tool in his revenge now represented so much more. He wanted to share his tumbling emotions with her, knowing her touch would soothe away much of the hurt.
He owed Sarita a life-debt. Since her powers had been curbed back at the castle, he’d never known the extent of what she was capable of doing. Biting back the questions swirling in his head, he jerked off his boots and let out an extended yawn.
Perhaps nearly dying was almost as tiring as saving someone from that dire fate.
He removed Sarita’s shoes and socks. Then he peeled down her bloody pants and pulled off her stained shirt. Ian lifted Sarita, holding her against him as he pulled back the covers.
After he got her settled, he ripped off his tattered and blood-soaked shirt and let his black plaid fall to the floor.
He needed to be skin to skin with her. Sliding between the silk sheets, he gathered her sleeping form into his arms. She sighed and cuddled closer, allowing him to roll to his side and throw a thigh over her legs.
Having her near calmed him. Since her head was tucked against his shoulder, he buried his nose in her hair. Her scent filled his nostrils, and he sighed.
His world was upside down. Everything he’d assumed about what had happened so very long ago was wrong. At least he thought it was wrong.
Artair hadn’t caused Ian’s death by fire—that much was apparent. His brother’s greeting had held nothing but genuine affection and surprise. Not even the wariness he’d expect, considering Artair knew Ian had allied with Helen.
Now, Ian needed to find a way to let go of the hatred he’d held for so long if he was going to get any answers about what had really happened. Perhaps those answers would come when he and Sarita dined with the Amazon clan on the morrow.
One thing was damn sure—he wasn’t going to get any answers tonight. Besides, he needed to hold Sarita, to know she was all right.
Sarita whispered his name in her sleep.
He kissed the top of her head.
Once she’d recovered, they could wed. Honor demanded that he make her his wife since she’d given him her innocence. Surely she’d see the rightness of marrying him.
Where would they live? He could probably never go back to dorcha àite. Helen had seen to that.
Helen. She’d have to be brought to heel, although he wasn’t sure how since she was a goddess—an Ancient of great power who feared nothing and no one.
The Amazons. She’d feared the Amazons or else she’d never have resorted to kidnapping one of them to lure the rest into a trap. She also feared Artair MacKay. Oh, she might have told Ian her plans were to punish all of them before she destroyed them, but he knew better now.
She couldn’t destroy them so long as they possessed the powers of Water, Air, Earth and Fire, or else she would have done so by now.
Aye, Helen feared the Amazons.
So where did he go from here?
Chapter Twenty-One
“Ian, wake up.” Sarita tickled his ear with her tongue.
As exhausted as she’d been after she’d healed him, it was amazing that she’d awakened first. Sleep had done her a world of good, and she woke up with her mind full of the man who’d captured her heart. She’d risked all to bring him to Avalon and had somehow gained a power she wasn’t sure she was ready to handle.
She and Ian needed to talk. Eventually.
Right now she had other things—more pleasurable things—in mind. She slipped off her panties and bra.
Soft snores were slipping from between Ian’s lips as he lay sprawled on his back. The red silk sheets were tangled around them both, but there was a telltale bump that told her the sun wasn’t the only thing that had risen this morning. She’d just have to try harder to wake him.
She rubbed her nose against the bristly beard stubble on his chin and cheeks, nudging his face over so she could touch her lips to his neck. After a few kisses, she licked her way down his neck to his chest, circling one of his nipples until it hardened into a tight pebble. His snoring ceased.
With a groan, Ian threaded his fingers through her hair. The long tresses were probably a mass of snarls since she hadn’t braided it before she fell asleep. Because i
t was so coarse and thick, her hair tended to have a mind of its own.
“Sweet mercy, yer a beautiful woman.”
“I’m a mess.”
“Come here, lass.”
She pressed her breasts against his chest. Not entirely sure how she’d ended up sleeping nearly naked, she didn’t care. Ian was naked too. They were alone in her beautiful new home. It seemed only right to make love to him to christen the place.
“Good morning,” she said.
He smiled before he kissed her.
The man could make her crazy with his kisses. Sarita returned his ferocity with her own, rubbing her tongue across his when it swept inside her mouth. Fire rushed through her, racing down her skin. A delightful tingle formed deep inside her, becoming an intense burst of pleasure that made her gasp.
Ian pulled back to give her quizzical stare. “What?”
She couldn’t bring herself to tell him that he excited her so much, she could probably climax solely from his kisses. Her cheeks flushed warm. “Kiss me again,” she murmured. “I missed you so much.”
“Your voice could tempt a saint.”
“We’re back to my voice?”
“’Tis a tempting sound, loving.” He led her hand to his erection. “This is what the sweet sound does to me.”
“Liar. You were like that before I said a word.” Stroking his length, she licked her lips, anticipating the pleasure she knew he could bring her.
Damn, but the man could move fast. He’d grabbed her around the waist and flipped her to her back in a heartbeat. Hovering over her, his weight supported on his elbows, he smiled. His red-brown hair was also in disarray, making him a temptation she’d never be able to resist.
“Well, then,” he said, “perhaps I need to show you how much I want you in another way.”
Although she’d never understand why he thought her voice was so wonderful, she obliged him by letting him hear it. “Oh? And how exactly would you do that?”
* * *
Instead of answering her, Ian decided to show her. Covering her breasts with his palms, he kissed the deep valley between them. Such beautiful breasts. Round and firm with responsive nipples. Then he moved to take one of the hard nubs between his lips, suckling and loving how Sarita writhed beneath him.
One thing drove him on as he moved down her body, kissing her stomach and swirling his tongue around the gold hoop with the small sapphire that pierced her navel. Such an odd piece of jewelry, but against her dark skin, it was very appealing. Yet he had a different goal. He needed to know all of her—to taste her arousal.
Ian kissed the raven curls crowning her mound as he eased her thighs apart.
“Ian?”
“Hush.” Then he was licking the core of her.
Her fingers laced through his hair as she let out a ragged groan that made his cock twitch. She squirmed and he held fast to her hips as he loved her with his mouth, tickling and teasing with his tongue until she cried out, “Now, jaanu!”
“Nay, loving. Come for me like this.”
“Ian...please.”
He doubled his efforts, finding the bud of flesh he knew would push her over the edge and drawing it between his lips to suck gently.
She nearly bucked off the bed. Her husky voice shouted his name loud enough to echo through the huge bedchamber.
Knowing he’d brought her to release pushed him past what remained of the control over his desire. Rising over her, he nudged his erection against her entrance. “Loving?”
She spread her thighs farther apart. “Come to me, Ian.”
With a growl, Ian drove inside her, wishing he had the willpower to simply enjoy the feel of her wet heat surrounding him. His body wasn’t that patient. Pulling back, he thrust into her again.
Sarita wrapped her slender legs around his hips and met each lunge, her breathing as ragged and choppy as his. Just when he thought he’d die from the sensations, she dug her fingernails into his shoulders and tightened around him.
His orgasm seemed to last forever, his essence pouring into her as his heart beat furiously. So long as he was in her arms, buried deep in her body, the rest of the world didn’t matter.
He never wanted to leave her embrace.
She drummed her fingers against his back. “You’re crushing me.”
With a resigned sigh, he fell to her side. Patting his chest, he said, “Lie with me for a moment.”
“Gladly.” Snuggling up against him, she rubbed her cheek against his shoulder.
The day he faced would be daunting. He’d have to open himself up to reliving all the horrible things that had led him here. He’d have to put aside his anger, although he admitted much of it had lessened.
A bit of a surprise that love for Artair was there, hiding right below the surface.
Perhaps his hatred burned so brightly because the betrayal cut deep—all the way to his soul. He’d loved his brother with all his heart, yet Artair had abandoned him to a horrifying fate.
He wasn’t sure he’d never belong here—or anywhere. The whole world was confusing. Everything he’d assumed and believed had been tossed aside like so much rubbish. While Helen had gifted him with a new life, he’d never expected to use it for anything but seeking justice. How was he supposed to become a part of Sarita’s life? How was he ever going to with this clan?
Where did he go from here?
“I’m going to take a shower.” Her smile was saucy. “Care to join me?”
He wasn’t sure he’d adapt to this modern world, preferring to bathe in a pond.
“Ian? What’s wrong?”
“’Tis not my world anymore. Back at dorcha àite, I felt at home. And the island was nice.” His gaze swept her opulent bedchamber. “This is so...different. Perhaps too different for my old soul.”
“This place is as new to me as it is to you.”
“Pardon?”
“This house wasn’t here last time I was in Avalon. All I had was a cabin every bit as old as your castle.”
“Then why did this home appear?”
Sarita shrugged. “Maybe Ganga thought it was time for me to have a nice house. The other Amazons were given houses when they married. Maybe Ganga figured out that I’ll be alone the rest of my life and—”
“Yer not alone, loving.” Since she’d brought up the topic, he decided perhaps now was the proper time to let her know his intentions. “Perhaps the home was given to you because ’tis time to take a husband.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Perhaps you’re supposed to marry me.”
She blinked, saying nothing. Her expression was unreadable.
“Marry me, Sarita.”
“Have you lost your mind?”
It wasn’t what she’d said but the incredulous tone that fired Ian’s temper. “I took you to my bed, Sarita. I claimed your innocence. The honorable thing is to make you my wife.” He’d chosen his words carefully, afraid of betraying his deeper feelings. He wanted nothing more than to secure a permanent place in her life. Not only did he love her, but he needed an anchor to ground him against the coming storm he’d have to weather. Sarita was his heart’s anchor.
“Marry me, lass. Let me make this right.”
She tossed the sheets aside and scrambled off the bed. “I’m taking a shower.”
* * *
Sarita took one look at the enormous shower stall and reluctantly laughed. She’d never seen anything like it before. There wasn’t a showerhead. Instead, there were panels—eight of them—spread throughout the tiled enclosure. She wasn’t sure how to turn the damned thing on.
Fumbling with the buttons, she finally found one that made the shower spring to life. In a matter of moments, steaming water—a little over a hundred degrees, according to the
control panel—was blasting from all the sprayers.
The Water Amazon was in heaven.
One moment basking in the shower was all it took for Sarita to fall in love with her new bathroom. This was a luxury she’d gratefully accept from Ganga and not feel guilty for using it.
She grabbed the bottle of jasmine shampoo and worked it through the mess of her hair. After she rinsed the suds away, she added conditioner, letting it work its magic on her hair while the water worked its magic on her body. She was rinsing the last of the conditioner out when the glass door to the shower stall opened and closed.
Ian was behind her, pulling her back against him while he nibbled kisses against the tender flesh of her neck.
“I—I’m almost done.” She hated the catch in voice, but all the man had to do was touch her to turn her brain to oatmeal.
“I’d hoped to wash ye.”
“Too late.” Moving out of his arms, she reached for the door handle.
“Wait. Please. We need to talk.”
She shook her head, not ready to think about, let alone discuss, his proposal. She’d be damned if she’d take him as her husband when the only thing forcing the marriage was his stupid honor.
She’d been a virgin. So what? It was her body, her choice.
Goddess, she wanted to scream in frustration. Why did he have to think about something as archaic as honor? Why couldn’t he want to marry her because he loved her?
“Take your shower,” she said. “I’m going to get dressed.”
Sarita let herself out of the shower and cocooned herself in a towel. Then, like a coward, she fled the bathroom.
* * *
Ian hesitated when they were at the front door of Gina’s strange house. He’d never seen the like before—nothing but sharp angles and various textures of stone and wood. While it was attractive, the home reminded him of the wooden blocks he’d seen children of his clan stack as they played. And so much glass—something his clan had never been able to afford for any of their homes. A decadence, really. Just like Helen’s temple with its glass walls and ceiling.
