Lair of the Lion

by Christine Feehan

  Isabella felt him pressed at her entrance and waited breathlessly as he began to push into her. He went slowly, his amber gaze holding hers. The feel of him stretching her, binding them together, her muscles tight and clenching around him, was almost more pleasure than she could bear.

  His body shuddered in reaction to the exquisite torment. She was hot and tight and more than ready for him. He stopped when he encountered her barrier. Nicolai took her hands, stretched them above her head, and bent to suck on her nipple. He kissed her throat. "Ti amo, Isabella," he whispered. "I love you." And he surged forward.

  She winced, and her fingers tightened around his. They looked at one another a long time, and then both smiled.

  "It is done, bellezza." He kissed her again. "Take all of me now. Every bit of me." He pushed deeper into her. "That's it, take more." Nicolai pushed deeper still, another inch, and Isabella cried out, the sound muffled against his neck. He felt like shouting himself. She was a fiery sheath that gripped and teased and drove him mad. "We're almost there, just a little bit more, all of me, where I belong," he coaxed. He let go of her hands and caught her hips.

  Isabella shuddered with pleasure as he withdrew and surged forward, gliding into her, out of her, slowly at first, then fast, faster still, deep, hard strokes that took her breath away and set her nerves screaming for more, always more. She could feel his rhythm now and began to meet his body with her own so that he clenched his teeth against the building pressure.

  Nicolai wanted it to last forever, an ecstasy for both of them. It was building in him, wild and primitive. His woman. His mate. The roaring in his head increased. He gripped her hips harder, pulling her to him as he thrust forward with long hard strokes, so deep he wanted to find her soul. No other would know her, no other would have her, no other would give her a child. It ripped through him, a firestorm burning hotter than anything he had ever known. His body shuddered, tightened, hardened to a single purpose.

  Isabella was watching him closely as his body began to pound hers in a near frenzy. At once the ripples began, spreading, encompassing her, taking her over so that she cried out with pleasure. It didn't stop. He kept going, taking her over and over so that her release seemed endless. She hadn't known what to expect, and she could only grip his arms for sanity as her body took on a life of its own.

  He threw back his head, the wild mane of hair a halo around his head. As his seed poured into her, hot and fast, his hips pumping to send it deep, the roar deepened in his head and ripped from his throat.

  Isabella's eyes stared directly into his. The amber was fiery orange-red, as if his body had truly started a fire and the flames were burning brightly in his gaze. His hands tightened around her hips, his fingers digging into her.

  "Isabella." It was a soft, husky groan of defeat, of fear. "Run. Get out of here while you can." There was despair in his voice, but he didn't let her go, his body trapping hers beneath it. His hips were still surging forward as her muscles rippled and clenched around him. She felt a stab of pain in her hip, a needle puncture.

  She stared directly into his eyes, holding him to her. "Nicolai," she said softly, "I love you. For yourself. Not as the don. Not as the powerful being who saved mio fratello. I love you for you. Kiss me. I need you to kiss me." She dared not look away from his eyes, dared not take the chance of the illusion taking hold, not now. Not in the midst of their lovemaking.

  There was a silence as he stared down at her. Isabella remained calm, waiting. Watching. Her hands rubbed up and down his arms. She could feel his strong, hard muscles beneath his skin. Skin, not fur. The flames receded, and the needle slowly retracted from her hip. Her body still gripped his, her muscles clenching and unclenching as little aftershocks rocked her.

  He bent his head and found her mouth, his kiss tender. "Did I hurt you?" He was afraid to look at her, afraid she would see tears swimming in his eyes. How could he ever trust himself with her again? He knew he would want her again and again, and each time he took her would become an experience in painful self-control. Sooner or later he would lose the battle, and it would be Isabella who paid the price.

  "You know you didn't." She nibbled her way up his chin to the corner of his mouth. "Is it always like that?" His hair was brushing her sensitive skin, and deep inside, her muscles reacted by contracting again, sending another burst of pleasure rushing through her. Relief washed over her. She was certain they could find a way to be stronger than the curse. Of course, it was ingrained in Nicolai to believe in the curse, to believe he would one day kill the woman he loved, and she was afraid he was defeated before they even tried.

  "You saw it, didn't you?" His hand moved over her hip and came back with a small smear of blood on it. "You saw me as the lion."

  "No, Nicolai, I didn't see it. I saw you, only you." She held him close to her, their hearts beating frantically together. Needing comfort, he laid his head on her breasts while her fingers twisted in his hair.

  "But you felt the lion, Isabella," he said sadly. "I know you did. I know you heard him." Her nipple was too much of a temptation, and he took it into his mouth, his tongue teasing and stroking. Again he was rewarded when her body shuddered with pleasure, squeezing and tightening around him. He kissed her breast and lay quietly, letting her peace, her tranquility, seep into his mind so he could think clearly.

  "None of that matters, only what we are together," she answered softly.

  Nicolai lifted his head and stared down into her face. "I'm not going to marry you." His eyes gleamed at her, and his hair fell across her sensitized breasts, teasing her nipples to hard peaks.

  She stiffened beneath him. He lay over her naked body, his naked body blanketing hers, entwined with hers, his arms holding her. They had just lain together in the way of husband and wife, yet he chose that moment to announce he had once again changed his mind. Isabella tried not to think it was due to her inexperience, due to the fact that she had given up her innocence without marriage.

  "Please get off me," she said politely when she wanted to slap his handsome face. That she could still find him handsome frayed her temper even more.

  "I'm sorry. Am I too heavy?" He shifted his weight immediately, one arm still around her waist, one leg thrown casually over her thighs. His breath was warm against her breast. "I don't know why I didn't think of it before."

  "You did think of it before," Isabella pointed out dryly, and she shoved at him. "I must get up. Sarina will be wondering where I am. I trust your inspection of my body met with your approval."

  "Isabella." He sat up. "What's wrong?" He rubbed the bridge of his nose, confused by her reaction. "You'll be my mistress," he reassured her. "I would never give you up. I'll send for another bride if I must, but you'll stay here and live with me."

  Her chin rose a fraction. She rolled away from him, sat on the other side of the bed, and inspected the stained sheets, evidence of her lost innocence, her temper rising so that she struggled for control. "I suppose I deserve that, Signor DeMarco, and, of course, your will is my command. Will you have the decency to leave me now please?" He would send for another bride. He dared to say that to her while her body was still throbbing from the invasion of his.

  "Isabella, it's the only way to get around the curse. Don't you see?" He reached for her, but she slipped off the bed and dragged on her robe, her dark eyes stormy.

  "Don DeMarco, I'm asking you to leave my room. I have agreed to serve you in whatever capacity you require in exchange for Lucca's life. If you wish me to be your mistress, than I will do so. But I'm asking you to leave my room before I forget myself and throw something quite large at your head." She was proud that she managed to keep her voice pleasant.

  "You're angry with me."

  "How perfectly clever of you to guess. Get out!" She enunciated the words carefully on the chance he was impaired in some way. Perhaps that was what happened to a man after he lay with a woman. Perhaps they lost their senses and became perfect dolts.

  "I'm protecting
you, Isabella," he pointed out reasonably as he pulled his clothes toward him. "You must see that. We have no other choice."

  "I have politely asked you to leave my bedchamber." Isabella assumed her haughtiest tone. "Unless I have no rights in our ever-changing relationship, I believe privacy is a small thing to ask."

  "You have to see that I'm right in this," Nicolai said, exasperated with her. "Dio, Isabella, I might have killed you. And if you became my wife, one day I would."

  "Ah, yes, that excuse again. A mere pinprick is much like the stab of a dagger. I think the stabbing has been done to my heart."

  He took a deep breath and shook his head. "We were lucky this time. I felt it taking me. I nearly couldn't control the beast, with my emotions so intense. I won't risk marrying you and letting the beast take you, not even to appease your injured feelings. Propriety means nothing against the chance of losing you."

  "Propriety may mean much to mio fratello, signore, and to my good name. I am a Vernaducci, and we, at least, do not go back on our word." She looked down her nose at him, every bit her father's daughter. She walked to the door and yanked it open, ignoring the fact that he was undressed. "Leave my room at once."

  "Isabella!" Shocked, he snagged his clothes with one hand, his boots with the other, and hurried to the entrance of the secret passage.

  Ignoring him, Isabella calmly yanked on the bell pull to summon a servant. She steadfastly refused to look back at Nicolai as he escaped into the passage. She stared resolutely out the door of her bedchamber, waiting for her call to be answered.

  Alberita arrived, breathless. She curtseyed three times. "Signorina?"

  "Please tell Sarina I need her immediately. And, Alberita, there is no more need for bowing."

  "Yes, signorina," the maid said, curtseying repeatedly. She whirled around and raced down the hallway at breakneck speed.

  Isabella didn't move, standing beside the door waiting, her bare foot tapping out a rhythm of impatience, of temper, of mortification. Sarina hurried toward her, and Isabella caught her by the hand and dragged her into the bedchamber. She shut the door firmly and leaned against it. Tremors were starting from deep inside, spreading throughout her body.

  Sarina looked from her pale face to the disheveled bed, the stained sheets. She looked back at Isabella. "I must get rid of the evidence immediately."

  "There's no need." Isabella waved a hand and worked to keep her voice even, but it wobbled alarmingly. "I'm no longer his betrothed. He's informed me I am to be his mistress, and he will send for another bride." To her horror, her voice broke completely, and a sob escaped.

  Sarina was astounded. "That can't be. You're the one. The lions know. They always know. Isabella..." she began, her gaze straying back to the stained sheets.

  Isabella covered her face, ashamed to be weeping in the presence of a servant, but nothing would stop the flood of tears. She comforted herself with the knowledge that the DeMarco holding was different, the senior servants treated as family.

  Sarina went to her immediately, swallowing every lecture and putting her arms around the younger woman, her expression compassionate. Isabella put her head on Sarina's shoulder, clinging to her. Sarina made little clucking noises, patting Isabella's back in an attempt to calm the storm of tears. "He couldn't have meant it. He wasn't thinking properly."

  "I should have listened to you."

  "If Nicolai thinks he's protecting you, it wouldn't have made any difference. Would you have told him no if he had wanted you as his mistress before he offered marriage?"

  Isabella shook her head. "No." She had to be honest with herself and Sarina. She would have become his mistress if those had been the terms of their agreement, but she never would have allowed herself to be so drawn to him. At least she hoped she wouldn't have. A wife could eventually find a way to dispose of a mistress. "I would have done anything he asked to save Lucca. I still will, but it's different now, Sarina." She shook her head again and left the comfort of the housekeeper's arms to sit on the edge of the bed and survey the reminders of her sins. "Everything has changed."

  "Because you love him." Sarina made it a statement.

  Isabella nodded sadly. "And he would lessen what we have together. I have no choice but to accept what he decrees, but it will take some time to begin to forgive him. And I don't know what I'll do when he sends for a bride." She rubbed absently at her throbbing temples. "Why didn't he just choose one from this valley?"

  "No DeMarco chooses a bride from within the valley." Sarina sounded faintly shocked. "It isn't done. And what famiglia would risk such a thing?"

  "Of course not, not when they believe the bridegroom might eat the bride." She made a small attempt at humor, but it came out bitter. "Better to bring in a girl from a holding who knows no such tale, who can't escape and is sold by her famiglia for profit." She squared her shoulders. "At least I choose my own fate, Sarina. I came here willingly, and he's told me what to expect."

  She looked sadly around the room with its plethora of winged guardians and crosses. "I was supposed to be safe here. I thought that somehow she would protect me if I was in this room."

  "I am certain the Madonna is watching over you, Isabella," Sarina assured her.

  "She must be," Isabella agreed, "as I'm still alive in spite of the curse. But I was thinking of Sophia. This was her room. I feel her presence sometimes. It must be terrible for her to see what her words have wrought. I wish I could help her in some way. I think she must have suffered greatly."

  "You are an unusual woman," Sarina said sincerely. "If Don DeMarco is so foolish as to allow you to slip through his fingers, then he doesn't deserve you."

  A small, humorless smile touched Isabella's mouth. "I don't think it's in his mind to allow me to go anywhere, just not to marry me. I will live as his mistress while he chooses another bride."

  "The curse is on Nicolai as the DeMarco heir, not on his bride. You are the one the lions have accepted. It won't matter how many other brides he chooses, nor how often he professes not to love you, he can't cheat his destiny," Sarina said sagely.

  Isabella suddenly leaned into her and circled Sarina's neck with her arms, burying her face on the housekeeper's shoulder. Sarina couldn't resist the silent plea and held her tightly. "I think you're right," Isabella said. "I feel you're right. Nicolai can't defeat the curse by tricking it." She sighed softly. "But there was no talking to him. He thinks to protect me. In truth, he will make it more difficult for me." Isabella allowed herself a few minutes of comfort before determinedly getting up. "I would appreciate your aid, Sarina. My hair is a mess. Would you mind helping me again?"

  Sarina was all business, choosing another gown for Isabella, carefully brushing out her hair in front of the fire to dry it before once more dressing it. Isabella lifted her chin and turned around to allow Sarina to look at her. "What do you think?"

  "I think you'll do," Sarina said softly.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Isabella spent the remainder of the morning reading in the library. She knew she should be finding her way around the palazzo, familiarizing herself with the holding, but she needed to spend time alone, away from prying eyes.

  Betto stuck his head into the room and beckoned her. "Don DeMarco has said you must go to him immediately."

  She set her book carefully aside and rose with grace to follow Betto through the long halls and up the wide staircases. She moved without haste, making him wait for her several times. It was Betto who was forced to knock on the door of the don's inner sanctuary, as Isabella refused to do so.

  Nicolai beckoned her.

  She stood just inside the entryway, her chin up. "I believe you summoned me?" she said in her haughtiest voice. She kept her eyes fixed on the falcon standing on its perch in one of the recesses of the room. She didn't dare look at Nicolai, didn't want to feel that curious melting in the region of her heart, the butterfly wings brushing at her insides.

  "Sit down, Isabella. We have much to discuss."

&
nbsp; She tilted her chin at him. "I would rather stand, Don DeMarco, as I'm certain we have little to say to one another."

  He sighed heavily, his amber eyes glinting at her. "You are being particularly difficult, when all I'm asking is that you sit in a chair while I give you news of tuo fratello."

  He made her feel childish and silly and a little bit ashamed of herself. It wasn't his fault that she burned each time she looked at him. That after his possession, her body no longer seemed her own, but his. The craving for him was a terrible thing, and yet he looked upon her with his strange eyes and his mask of indifference. He wanted a mistress, not a wife. Her father had warned her never to give herself to a man without marriage, but once again she had chosen to go her own way, and disaster had followed. Isabella bowed her head to keep him from reading her humiliating thoughts and with great dignity seated herself in the high-backed chair farthest from the fireplace. "Scusi, Signor DeMarco. Please give me news of mio fratello, as I'm quite anxious for his arrival."

  Isabella sounded so subdued, it nearly broke Nicolai's heart. She looked alone and vulnerable seated in his large chair. He desperately wanted to offer her comfort but didn't dare trust himself to get too close to her.

  "I'm afraid the news isn't good, cara mia. Lucca is quite ill, and they have been forced to stop in hopes of aiding him. The don's escort sent word promptly that they were allowing him to rest before continuing the journey."

  Isabella's dark eyes widened in shock, in fear. The compassion in Nicolai's voice was nearly her undoing. "The don's men escort him?"

  "Rivellio insisted. He wishes to aid me in any way possible," Nicolai said dryly. "I suspect he really wants a look at this valley in the hope of one day acquiring it through some treachery or battle."

  "It is likely they are killing Lucca. Don Rivellio detests mio fratello. He won't want him to live. I must go to him at once, Signor DeMarco. Please have my horse made available, and I'll pack a few things."