“Kiss me,” she whispered.
Slowly, ever so slowly, he pulled her finger out, licking the tip. A sensuous smile touched his mouth.
He swooped her up in his arms, carrying her effortlessly out of her room.
“Um. Where are we going?”
“I want you in my bed.”
She shivered at the thought of the decadent velvet bedspread and the draperies hanging from the bedposts.
“Can we close the bed curtains?”
He pulled back to look at her and she shrugged. “I’ve been fantasizing about making love to you in your bed with the draperies closing out the world,” she said.
He groaned. “Good God, woman.”
She laughed and was unceremoniously dumped on his bed. She ran her hands over the velvety softness of the spread and looked up at Christien as he untied the bed hangings from each of the posts, then crawled in beside her, closing the rest of the world off.
“Ah, Madelaine, what you do to me.” He placed an elbow on either side of her head and looked down on her. “You cannot imagine all of the nights I have lain here, aching for you.”
She ran her hands up his arm. “Why didn’t you ask me to join you?”
“Because I was afraid.”
“Afraid?” She couldn’t imagine Christien ever being afraid of anything. Especially of her.
He dipped his head and nuzzled the spot below her ear, making her squirm and her belly tighten.
“I was afraid to hurt you even more. You were so bruised when you first arrived.”
She brushed his hair away from his forehead. “I would have come if you had called. I lay in bed listening to you pace your room night after night, wondering what was wrong with me that you didn’t come to me.”
“Then we are both fools.”
“But not anymore.”
“Nay. Not anymore.”
“Make love to me, Christien.”
Christien sighed and closed his eyes. For so long he lived with the regret of not bedding her seven centuries ago. All these years he cursed and damned his chivalry, living with the knowledge that he would never have what he truly wanted. Even now he wouldn’t let his mind believe it, fearing it would all be taken away from him in the blink of an eye.
Everything she accused him of was true. He wanted to lock her away, to keep her in his quarters forever. Protecting her was merely part of the reason. Deep down, he was selfish, wanting her only for himself without the distractions of her job or his. He wanted to know she would always be here, waiting for him. His to hold and make love to.
The practical side of him knew that was impossible. In this day you couldn’t keep a person locked away no matter what the reason and to do so would drive her from him. ’Twas why he allowed her to return to work on the morrow. Though allowed probably wasn’t the right word. He’d accepted the inevitable. Madelaine wouldn’t turn her back on her responsibilities to her father or to Lucheux. It made him proud of her in a twisted sort of way. Although it ate at him like acid that she felt obligated to a cur like Etienne Lucheux.
She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and pulled him down so their lips met. Letting loose the full force of his desire, he devoured her mouth in the most carnal, exquisite kiss he had ever experienced. ’Twas nothing like he had ever felt in all his long years and ’twould be like no other to come.
Her glorious dark hair spread out beneath her, a veil slithering across the dark blue of his bedding. He still didn’t know why she returned to him or what role she would play in the future when it came to the treasure. At this point it mattered not. All that mattered was she would finally be his in all ways and he would never again let her go.
His hands trailed from her throat to her breasts, his gaze helpless but to follow the movement. His ragged breaths caught in his throat. If he didn’t have her this night he would surely die.
She arched her back, lifting her breasts to him. As an offering? A gift? Mon Dieu, he didn’t care. He slowly unbuttoned her shirt, and unhooked the front closure of her brassiere, revealing the most perfect pair of breasts he’d ever had the luxury of laying eyes upon.
“Magnifique,” he murmured.
She cried out when his wet mouth touched her breast, and anchored his head to her. ’Twasn’t as if he had any desire to move anyway.
His member ached. He had never been so hard or ready so fast in his life. He tamped down on the craving to take her hard and fast. To brand her so she would always be his. They had all night and as far as he was concerned, the rest of her life. No need to hurry. Although his body rebelled at the thought. He unsnapped her jeans and pushed them off her hips and down her legs. Her moans were torture for his aching body. So much so he feared he would embarrass himself and spill his seed without even a touch from her. But he held tight and willed himself away from the brink as he touched the moist curls at the juncture of her thighs.
She stilled and her breathing stopped momentarily. Christien continued his explorations, continued his suckling of first one breast before moving to the other until slowly, bit by bit, her thighs relaxed beneath him and fell apart.
“Christien.”
He pulled away from her nipple and stared down at the glistening breast, wet from his open-mouthed kisses. “What, my love? Tell me what you want.”
“Nothing. Just Christien.”
He smiled, the primitive part of him he kept closed off relishing the fact he’d addled her mind.
Her head fell to the side and her eyes drifted closed. Her breathing was harsh and uneven, the color in her face high. He touched the button hidden by her folds and she cried out, her hips coming off the bed. She clenched handfuls of the duvet as she bucked against his hand. He rubbed first with one finger, then two as she whimpered, her legs restlessly opening and closing. He watched her face, enthralled by the expressions crossing it, especially when he slid a third finger inside her. He nearly came undone when her body opened up for him, the tight muscles contracting around him. He moaned. His hips pumped against the bed as the pressure inside him built to a frenzied need.
Her breathing changed and her eyes flew open. “Chris—”
“Let it go, my love.”
“I can’t…” She was panting, holding herself back. He applied more pressure. “I want you inside me.”
He smiled, not letting up even though her head was whipping back and forth. What sort of lovers had she had in the past who only gave her one orgasm? The thought of other lovers had the warrior in him rising, the jealousy all-consuming until he shoved it away. It mattered not who came before him, only that he was her last and only lover from now until God took her from him again.
She cried out and he pushed his finger up inside her, feeling the first contractions of her passageway. She bore down, a keening cry ripped from inside her and the contractions gave way to fierce spasms. Her knees locked and her toes curled and still she kept crying out, the spasms coming faster and harder. He continued to apply more pressure, forcing her toward another completion.
Her eyes shot open, unfocused, amazed. ’Twas obvious she had never found completion twice in a row. He was glad he was the first to give her that at least.
He kept it up, pulling back when she was on the brink of another then letting it build again until his fingers cramped, and still he would not relent. He was mesmerized, enthralled, spellbound watching her. His member was heavy and aching, the pressure nearly unbearable, the need to be inside her driving him wild.
When he was on the very edge of his control, he withdrew his fingers, unbuckled his belt and lowered his zipper. He shoved his pants down, boxers and all and entered her. She was so wet he slid right in with nary a problem. Her wetness dripped out of her, coating his bollocks. He paused and hung his head, willing her not to move. One more thrust and he would lose it and that was the last thing he wanted. The first time he made love to her, he wanted it to last.
He groaned. Mon Dieu, she was everything he had ever wished for. He grazed her neck
with his teeth, tasting the sweetness of her skin and the saltiness of her sweat.
She touched his cheek and he opened his eyes to see her looking up at him, love shining from the amber depths. He’d pushed her hard. Sweat gleamed on her brow, her skin flushed a rosy hue and her breasts rose and fell with each breath she took. She was glorious. More than he’d ever hoped for. A miracle.
Her smile was mischievous as she contracted her inner muscles, squeezing him.
“Minx,” he growled.
“What are you waiting for?”
“I don’t want this to end.”
Her expression softened. Her fingers feathered across his face. “There will be many more times. I promise.”
He blinked against the sudden pressure behind his eyes, still afraid she’d be taken from him as swiftly as she’d arrived.
She rose up and kissed him, breaking the dam of his resistance.
His hips pistoned against hers, his movements almost frenzied. Miraculously she came undone again. She threw her head back. A keening cry ripped from her and she met each of his thrusts with her own, burying him deeper into her than he ever thought he could go.
Suddenly her muscles clamped down and his seed shot out of him. He yelled and arched his back.
She wrapped her legs around his waist, riding her waves of pleasure and he was hopeless, trapped. His seed surged out of him, shooting deep inside her and he could do nothing but hold her, riding it out.
Chapter Thirteen
Breathing hard, Christien rolled off Madelaine and gathered her to his side. His pride noted she was just as breathless as he was.
“I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
She huffed out a laugh. “Hardly.”
When he didn’t respond, she turned her head to look at him. “I’m fine, Christien. No aches and pains. Well—” she grinned, “—maybe the usual aches and pains, but those I’ll gladly suffer.”
He pulled her in closer to kiss the top of her head. It felt good to laugh, to forget for a few hours the crushing responsibility and the fear of the future.
Dark thoughts hovered around him. He tried to push them away but they were insistent. Even if he could keep her safe, she still wasn’t his forever. He was immortal. She was not. Sooner or later she would be taken from him again.
His muscles tensed, his mind rebelling at the thought, but he couldn’t deny it. Some day she would die and he would once again grieve for her. He would survive his grief because he had no choice. His vow to the treasure rose above all else. Even Madelaine. But he would take what he was able, treasure it for always and tuck the memories away for a time when she wasn’t with him.
“Christien?”
“Yes, my love.”
“You’re squeezing me.”
He relaxed his hold. “I have something for you.”
“You do?” She sounded like a little girl on Christmas morning and it made him smile. He would give her presents all the time to hear the excitement in her voice.
He rolled to the side and snatched her necklace off the nightstand.
“My necklace.”
He’d had it since the nurse gave it to him and was surprised she hadn’t asked for it. He’d taken the opportunity to research its background and have it appraised. He shifted uncomfortably, not willing to think right now about what he’d learned.
She lifted her head and he fastened it around her neck. The key fell to the hollow of her throat, the dim lighting catching the diamonds’ heat.
“It’s beautiful,” he said. “Where did you get it?”
She touched it almost reflexively. “My mother gave it to me.” A note of sadness crept into her voice. Through his research of her family he’d learned her mother died from ovarian cancer when Madelaine was fifteen. Too young to have lost a mother.
“She said it’s been in the family for generations and I was to pass it on to my daughter.”
“It makes a wonderful heirloom.” And expensive. Very expensive. Her parents came from hardworking people who farmed the land and kept to themselves. Madelaine was an only child of an older couple. A miracle birth at the age when women usually stopped giving birth. Madelaine had been greatly loved, but not spoiled.
“Interesting reading you’ve got here.”
He pulled himself from his thoughts to find her leafing through the book he’d left on the nightstand.
She looked up at him, her brow arched. “Pretty heavy reading.”
He shrugged, not wanting to go there quite yet. He planned to spend the rest of her life with her and that meant revealing all his secrets, but not yet. Tonight he wanted to forget about everything else.
“Why all the interest in the last book of the Bible?”
He sighed. She wasn’t going to let this go as easily as he hoped. “It intrigues me.”
She snapped the book closed. “It’s depressing.”
“That too.”
She pulled away from him, scooted up in bed and to his great disappointment, pulled the covers over her breasts. “Most people believe the seven seals were opened when Rome fell.”
“I’ve heard that theory.” They were wrong, of course. None of the seals were opened because only one person could open them and that person had yet to reveal himself. The key, Michael had said. Christien’s gaze went to the key at Madelaine’s neck. A trinket no farmer could afford.
“You don’t believe Rome was the opening of the seals?”
She was far too perceptive for her own good. “No. I don’t.”
“So you think the Apocalypse is yet to come?”
Not if he could help it. “Hopefully it will never come.”
A crease marred her brow and he wanted to growl in frustration. He had a naked woman in his bed, a woman he loved to distraction, who was distracting him with her hidden breasts and all she wanted to talk about was the Apocalypse?
“I’m trying to remember the story. Something about seven seals and four horsemen.”
He leaned against the headboard. He wasn’t going to get what he wanted until she finished this conversation. Much to his regret. “There are seven seals. The first four are the horsemen of the Apocalypse representing conquest, war, famine and death. Alone they will destroy civilization. The remaining three seals will devastate the earth and all other living creatures.”
“Like I said, depressing.”
“Exactly.” He pulled her down on top of him and pressed his erection against her stomach. Her eyes darkened and a mischievous smile played around the corners of her mouth.
“You don’t want to discuss the Apocalypse?”
He growled and kissed her, trying to erase all thoughts of the Apocalypse, the horsemen and the Book of Revelation.
“Cool tattoo.” Lainie touched the Celtic cross above Christien’s heart, surprised he had a tattoo. Then again, she shouldn’t be surprised. Beneath the designer suits and hand-woven shirts lurked a soldier, a man with a warrior’s mentality.
He rubbed the tattoo. “A whim. I got it in Scotland a long time ago.”
She raised her eyebrows. “Scotland, huh?” She’d never been out of Wisconsin let alone the country. Scotland was a fairytale land to her. Just another of the big differences between them, but she wasn’t going to allow the thought to diminish her good mood.
Right now she was sated, her bones barely solid after making love to Christien twice. He was an unrelenting lover, unsatisfied until she fell apart screaming. Not just once but over and over again. She’d had orgasms before with other lovers, but they were nothing compared to the heights Christien had taken her. It left her breathless and, surprisingly, wanting more.
He was lying on his side, his hand idly playing with the ends of her hair. His body was loose, the normal tension gone from him.
“I know you are determined to return to work tomorrow.”
She closed her eyes, praying he wouldn’t ask her to give up her job because at this moment she wasn’t sure she had the strength to fight him and she had to be str
ong. She had to think of her father. Without a paycheck, he would lose his place in the nursing home.
“Will you come back to me after work?” He cupped her face in his hands and looked into her eyes. “Move in with me, Madelaine. Live with me.”
“Oh.” Oh. She didn’t quite know what to think about that. A little scared, a little excited. He wasn’t asking her to marry him. If he had, she probably would have bolted off the bed and run away. Marriage was way too big of a commitment way too fast. But living with him? She’d never lived with a man before. The thought of returning to her apartment alone didn’t appeal to her. But moving in here?
“You sure you want me under your feet all the time?”
His eyes darkened to a stormy gray. “I want you under me, over me, any way I can get you.”
His words had her squirming. Surely she didn’t want him so hungrily again, but she did. She could have this every night. He was offering it to her. And much more. The chance to be with him, to learn about him. The other Madelaine and Christien never had the chance to explore their love, to see where it could take them. To just be without the fear of discovery. This would be like giving them a second chance. And maybe that’s what the dreams were about. Second chances. Righting a wrong.
A do-over.
She smiled up at Christien. “As long as you know what you’re getting into, I would love to live with you.”
Lainie entered her office building with trepidation.
Trepidation? Who was she kidding? She was downright scared. Lucheux told her to take as much time as she needed, but she was sure Giselle hadn’t agreed and since Lainie had never even met Lucheux, it was Giselle’s reaction she was worried about.
Only the thought of going home to Christien in defeat had her straightening her shoulders and marching through the office.
Home. To Christien. The thought still wasn’t something she was used to. Giving up her apartment, packing up her stuff. Putting her clothes in his closet… She shook her head. Now that she was away from him the doubts were creeping in. She wanted more than great sex. She wanted a partnership and she had a feeling Christien was keeping things from her. Layers. The man definitely had layers.
Her Dark Knight Page 16
