Lair of the Lion

by Christine Feehan

  He bent to her, his gaze holding her captive, slowly moving closer. At the first touch of his lips, she closed her eyes, savoring the touch of him, the taste of him. His mouth took possession of hers, and the world seemed to rock, shift, and move until it fell away and she was burning inside and out.

  His arms circled her waist and drew her to him, into the shelter of his body, gently, carefully, but tightly, so that she was pressed against him. She could feel his every muscle imprinted on her body. She went boneless, pliant, and melted into him, a part of him, catching fire so that she hungered for him.

  Isabella felt his breath hitch as she burrowed closer. Immediately she pulled away, glaring up at him. "Let me see." Abruptly she was all business, a Vernaducci, well used to giving orders and having them obeyed. "I know you're injured, and I'm not taking no for an answer. I'm very stubborn."

  "It is not difficult to believe that, Isabella," he said wryly. "But it is nothing, a mere scratch. I was careless when I should have been attentive."

  Isabella slowly pulled his tunic away from his side to expose his bare skin. She gasped aloud. "You've been attacked by the lions." She touched his skin with trembling fingertips. "I don't know why I believed you would be safe from them. Everyone in the palazzo acts as if you are perfectly safe from the beasts."

  "I am safe from the lions." His voice was gruff as he turned away, dragging his tunic back over the lacerations.

  "Let me tend the wounds. It doesn't look as if you are safe. I thought of you as I wandered through the halls, believing that if you were really safe from the lions, then I would be safe, too. I just had to have faith. Sarina left me a potion that numbs, already made up." She took his hand, entwining her fingers with his. "Come with me."

  "It is not at all proper," he warned, a hint of his boyish grin touching his mouth. "My reputation would be destroyed completely."

  Her eyebrows shot up. "I didn't realize you worried about such things. But you are correct, of course. The world might think ill of you. We can't have them whispering rumors and gossiping. Still, I must tend the lacerations, so I guess I have no choice but to agree to marry you, so your reputation remains safe."

  "I thank you for the sacrifice," Nicolai said solemnly, but his eyes laughed at her teasing.

  "Tremendous sacrifice," she corrected. "And it doesn't mean I have in any way forgiven your absurd and very rude conduct."

  Despite the lightness of her tone, Nicolai heard the underlying note of hurt. He tightened his fingers around hers, holding her still beside him. "I had thought to protect you, Isabella, not reject you. La mia famiglia has a history of turning on their loved ones. I had no wish to take a chance with your life, cara, so I sent you away from me. I am dangerous, far more dangerous than you could possibly know." He brought her hand to the warmth of his lips, his touch soft on her skin. "You should be upset with me for allowing the lions to hold you here."

  "The lions?" she echoed. "You believe they were deliberately forcing me to stay within your valley?" The warmth of his breath against her skin made her shiver with helpless need.

  Nicolai kept her hand pressed against his lips, as if he couldn't bear to lose contact. "I know that they were. I changed my mind almost immediately once you were out of my sight. They knew. They always know. I'm not noble and courageous. If I were, you would be safe and far away from this place." There was a trace of bitterness in his voice. He rubbed her hand along his shadowed jaw, a small caress, closing his eyes for a moment and savoring the feel and scent of her.

  Isabella was silent for a moment, turning his words over in her mind. Nicolai was serious. He feared for her life. Feared that in some way he might be responsible for harming her. "What history of turning on loved ones, Don DeMarco?" Her heart was pounding in her chest, and she tasted fear in her mouth.

  The words fell into a vacuum of silence. She stood very close to him, feeling the heat of his body. His thumb stroked a caress over the pulse beating so frantically in her wrist. He moved, his posture protective, towering over her, sheltering her against the echo of danger vibrating in the air. The night seemed to wrap them up, enveloping them in a shroud of darkness.

  "Hasn't anyone yet regaled you with tales of how I received the scars on my face? I thought they would all leap at the chance to tell you." A strange rumble was emanating from his throat, somewhere between a purr and a growl.

  Isabella tilted her head to look up at him. In the flickering light from the burning tapers, she could see shadows across the left side of his face, hiding the jagged lines etched deeply into his skin. She reached up and gently laid her hand over the scars, her palm comforting. "I don't think you realize how loyal your people are to you. No one has repeated gossip, signore, nor do I think they would do so. If you wish to tell me how this happened, please do, but don't feel it's necessary."

  His hand covered hers, pressing her palm more tightly to him. His long lashes, the only feminine thing about him, veiled the sorrow in his burning eyes. "Why do you have to be so beautiful? So good?" There was a wealth of despair in his voice.

  She felt the pain in his heart as if it were her own, and she ached to hold him, to ease the heavy burdens she had no hope of understanding. Without conscious thought, she leaned her body into his, her soft, full breasts pressing against his chest.

  He groaned--she heard it quite clearly--his body tightening.

  Nicolai experienced a heavy, aching need that crawled through his bloodstream and invaded every cell, every muscle. His arms slipped around Isabella and hauled her closer still, until there was only the thin barrier of their clothing separating them. Still, it wasn't close enough. His fingers tangled in her long hair, dragging her head back so he could take possession of her lush, inviting mouth. Enormously strong, he crushed her to him, trying to crawl inside the haven of her indomitable spirit. Wanting to lose himself in the perfection of her soft body.

  Fire raced through him to her and back again, burning so hot, so fast, the flames were out of control. His mouth was hot with hunger, with need, with a raging desire almost beyond his comprehension. It took him so fast, so ferociously, he was unprepared for the primal lust blossoming deep within him, bursting into a conflagration as the taste and scent of her swamped his senses.

  Isabella recognized the wildness rising in him, the terrible hunger and need, as his kiss deepened in masculine domination, taking rather than coaxing her untutored mouth to respond. He swept her away with him into a world of pure sensuality. She went with him willingly, wanting to feel his body hard and hot against hers. Wanting the enormous strength of his arms wrapped tightly around her. She merged with him, heat to heat, her mouth moving against his. She could feel the heavy thickness of him pressed against her, and it excited rather than alarmed her. She reveled as his fist tightened in her hair.

  Unexpectedly, his ring scratched her neck, a sharp sting that drew her out of the silken web of erotic passion. Isabella gave a soft cry and lifted her head, staring up into his blazing eyes. She touched her neck, and her fingers came away smeared with a thin ribbon of red.

  Nicolai snarled and leapt away from her, a single bound that took him deep within the shadows. His gaze was wild, turbulent, his eyes gleaming eerily like those of a beast. With his wild hair flowing around him, and his impressive size, he gave the appearance of the lions that roamed his lands.

  "This is perilous, Isabella." His voice was gruff. A growl rumbled deep within his throat, making him sound untamed, dangerous. "You should not be here."

  "There is no need to worry, signore." Isabella sounded amused at his trepidation. "I was not the most ladylike in my youth, and mio fratello, Lucca, taught me to render a man incapable of harming me. While it is true I would not want you writhing on the ground in pain, I would certainly defend my honor earnestly."

  There was a silence while her heart beat out a rapid rhythm. Then a soft, muffled sound began to build in volume. Laughter. Warm, contagious, real. Nicolai shook his head, rather startled at the sound of his
own laughter. He couldn't remember a time, even in his youth, when he had laughed. She didn't understand. Thank the Madonna she didn't understand. She stood there in front of him, her young, beautiful face innocent and without guile. Her eyes were wide and staring at him with trust, with the beginnings of affection, with everything he could ever want. She was offering him the world and the joys of paradise. He was offering her death and the fires of hell.

  His laughter died away, and he blinked back something wet that was obscuring his vision. "Your brother taught you a manner of rendering a man harmless?" He rubbed his jaw thoughtfully, unobtrusively swiping his eyes to clear them of moisture. "I have not heard of this, a small creature such as yourself able to manage such a great feat. I would like this procedure explained to me in great detail."

  Isabella was mesmerized by him, totally charmed. His laughter found its way deep into her heart, lodged there, and made a home. Faint color stole up her neck and tinged her face. "I am certain you know what I mean, signore."

  "I think it is time you call me Nicolai. If you are considering reducing me to a writhing, painful heap on the floor, it's best that we're friends. I was merely hoping for a demonstration of this procedure. I wish you to teach my entire holding such a useful thing, so that all young women travel with protection and alleviate the worries of their fathers."

  Her lashes fluttered, and Isabella twisted her fingers together. "You are jesting with me, Don DeMarco."

  "Certainly not, cara. I am quite excited about this new form of protection that will allow a small woman such as yourself to cause a man of my size and strength to fall helplessly to the floor. Your brother, Lucca, taught you such a useful and invaluable trick? Tell me, Isabella, did he learn such a thing from a master swordsman?"

  "You are impossible. I implore you to behave before I'm forced to call Sarina and have her deliver you a good clout on the ear." She tried to sound stern, but her eyes were dancing, and her lips curved enticingly.

  He folded his arms across his chest, his gaze fixed on the temptation of her soft mouth. "Sarina believes you safely locked in your room, a well-bred young lady betrothed to her don."

  Isabella managed a haughty glare when she really wanted to laugh. "You can just fix those horrible gashes in your side all by yourself. I'm going to my bedchamber and will do my utmost to forget this discourse."

  "I have been accused of being a gentleman, Isabella, and I must insist on escorting you back to your bedchamber." He leaned close so that his breath was warm against her ear. "I cannot have you skulking about looking for hidden treasures."

  Isabella thought herself a safe distance from him, yet in no time he had managed to glide quite close. He was so silent it was frightening at times. Without looking at him, she carefully replaced the tome on the shelf where she had found it. "If you're too frightened to wander the halls alone, I will consent to accompany you." She was proud of that haughty note. She felt it justifiable under the circumstances. His teasing was too appealing. She couldn't look at him without melting. She was in danger of fast becoming one of the very women she despised, clinging to a man and gazing at him in abject adoration. It was too humiliating to be borne.

  Nicolai placed one hand on the small of her back as they walked together, side by side, out of the room. She was acutely aware of the heat of his hand so close to her skin. The rippling of his muscles beneath his shirt. The silence of his footfall. His height and the width of his shoulders. Mostly she was aware of his palm burning its way through her dressing robe, branding her.

  She could feel the weight of his stare, and she kept her head bent, a small mutiny when he seemed to be taking over her life so quickly.

  "I sent word that your brother must be released into my care," he said suddenly.

  Isabella's head went up, and her gaze met his immediately. "You did? Thank the good Madonna. I have been so afraid for him. Don Rivellio would like nothing more than to see him dead. Grazie, Signor DeMarco, grazie."

  "Nicolai," he corrected softly. "Say my name, Isabella."

  She certainly owed him that much. Her eyes were shining at him; she couldn't help it. She wanted to throw her arms around him and kiss him again. "Nicolai, grazie. For mio fratello's life."

  "You do not owe me anything, cara," he replied gruffly, but he couldn't drag his gaze from the fascination of her perfect mouth. "Rivellio is a powerful enemy and always greedy for more property. I'm surprised he didn't try to secure your lands by offering marriage to you."

  Isabella looked straight ahead at the vaulted archways faintly lit by one or two tapers in sconces on the wall. "He did offer," she admitted, and once more she began walking in the direction of her room. "More than once. I refused him immediately. He was very angry. He didn't show it, but I could see it."

  "Isabella." He said her name into the night. Whispered it. His voice was gentle, even tender. "You are not responsible for what happened to your brother. Lucca chose to join a secret rebellion, and he was foolish enough to get caught. Rivellio used every means possible to attain the lands he wanted. He wouldn't have been satisfied with your dowry; he would have had Lucca murdered for the entire holding."

  Isabella let her breath out slowly. "I didn't think of that. Of course he would have. He probably would have had me murdered, too, so he could wed another who would bring him more wealth."

  "I suspect you are correct. He would allow a decent length of time to go by first, of course. Either that or he would have locked you up for his convenience and told the world you had died. It isn't unheard of."

  The idea chilled her. The casual, matter-of-fact way he said it chilled her. Isabella had always had the protection of her status, her birthright, name, and property. Her family watched over her protectively. She had heard of the brutality a woman could suffer at the hands of an unprincipled man, but she had never thought overmuch about it.

  When they arrived at her bedchamber, the room was warm with the glowing embers of the fire. Isabella was all business as she located the salve, but her stomach was churning at Nicolai's words. She knew nothing of the don. He was younger than she had thought and much more handsome than she ever could have imagined. He possessed a charisma and charm she found enthralling. His voice and eyes mesmerized her. His sexual magnetism was almost more than she could resist.

  "I frightened you, cara, with my thoughtless words. I can assure you, I do not intend to lock you in a dungeon while I marry other unsuspecting women for their fortunes. One wife is enough for me. Especially when she is unpredictable and skulks around my palazzo, hunting for my treasures."

  "It is said you meet with many men, yet they do not see you."

  He caught her arm, pulling her close to him. "Who told you such a thing?" Golden eyes blazed at her, tiny flames burning brightly in warning.

  Isabella rolled her eyes expressively, not in the least intimidated. "It is common knowledge. Many gossip absurdly both in and outside this valley. But when I had an audience with you, you stayed mostly in the shadows." She laughed softly. "Skulking. I believe you were skulking in the shadows."

  His harsh expression softened, and his eyes laughed at her teasing. Their voices were soft in the night. As if by mutual agreement neither wanted to awaken something from slumber that was better left alone. As it was, they were in their own world, locked together by the darkness and something intangible they shared. "I may have been skulking, for want of a better word. I love the night. Even as a child I felt I owned it." His eyes burned over her, amber flames gleaming brightly. "The night belongs to me, cara. I see what others do not. It holds a beauty and a fascination and, most importantly, a freedom I cannot have in daylight hours. I am most comfortable at night."

  He was telling her something important, yet she was unable to grasp the meaning behind his words. Fleetingly remembering Sarina's calling him nocturnal, Isabella looked up at the perfection of his masculine features. "You are unnaturally handsome," she observed critically, without guile, "yet you seem not to know it. Why do you keep
so much to yourself? Is it merely the way of your castello?" She enjoyed his company immensely and hoped he would continue to be a companion to her.

  Nicolai hesitated, his first moment of indecision. He raked a hand through his hair, his body jerking as he lifted his arm. "You must meet the other women and begin to learn what is necessary to run the palazzo. I do not want a wife in name only. I expect you to take an active interest in your home and its people."

  "I helped run mio padre's holdings, so I certainly will have no problem learning about this one." It was ten times larger than anything she had ever seen, but Sarina had already befriended her, and Isabella was certain the woman would help. It seemed a daunting task, but Isabella liked challenges, and she had confidence in her own abilities. She lifted her chin as she touched the edge of his tunic. "I was hoping we could share some meals together." Very gently she lifted his shirt to reveal the claw marks where the lion had raked his skin. "Hold this." She caught his wrist and pressed his palm against his shirt to keep it in place and away from the lacerations.

  Nicolai watched her intently, the pupils of his eyes so pale they were luminous in the darkness. Her fingers brushed his skin gently, soothingly, lingering just a bit too long. His entire body clenched and tightened and ached with need. His breath caught in his throat, and his blood heated to a molten pool. He tore his gaze from her face, from her tender expression. The way she looked at him was almost too much to bear. His teeth snapped together in frustration, and a low growl escaped. "I should have insisted on sending you away."

  Her gaze jumped to his face. "Why?" The question was stark. Innocent. Far too trusting.

  It drove him mad. "Because I want to lay you down on the bed, the floor, anywhere at all, and make you my own." The words escaped before he could stop them, before he could take them back. He didn't know if he wanted to shock her or frighten her or warn her.

  "Oh." The single word slipped out softly.

  She didn't sound shocked or frightened. She sounded pleased. He saw the smile Isabella tried to hide.