Her Dark Knight (15 page)

If God had given her a do-over, she would gladly do it all over.

“Do you…” She licked her lips. “Do you dream of her?”

A pained look crossed his face. “Constantly.”

“When did you realize I was…” She couldn’t even finish the sentence because it was still so strange that she shared a past with another woman. But it wasn’t another woman, was it? It was her.

“Since the moment I saw that cretin pawing you on my dance floor.” His voice had a hard edge to it and his face became like stone. He’d been angry that night, but she’d assumed it was because the man was harassing a guest.

His reaction to her in his office made sense now, as well. He must have been reeling upon seeing her standing there.

“When did your dreams start?” she asked.

He approached her slowly until he was standing in front of her, a look of wonder and awe on his face. He’d had the same look the next day when she returned for the papers. He touched her cheek with the back of his hand. “You have always been in my mind, Madelaine. Always.”

She swallowed, her insides trembling at the fierce love glowing from his eyes. Yet she was still uncertain. Was his love for a woman he’d been dreaming of or for her? Was his offer to make love for Lainie or for a woman he’d never met in this lifetime?

And what of her feelings? They were so intricately tied to the couple in her dreams she didn’t even know where her true feelings for Christien began and where her feelings for the man in the dream ended. The two were the same, yet different.

He certainly looked like the Christien in her dreams and he acted like him, as well. But he wasn’t the same as the dark-haired knight. The man in her dreams had been filled with idealism and a hunger for adventure. He believed he was invincible and could save the world.

The man before her was cynical, weary, guarded. Lonely.

“When you look at me, do you see her?” she asked. “Or do you see me?”

“Don’t do this,
ma chérie.
”

“I have to,” she whispered. “I have to know.”

“Does it matter?”

Did it matter? She felt the same emotions Madelaine of Flandres felt. She lived Madelaine’s life, her terror, her joy when Christien appeared and her anger at the circumstances beyond her control. Like the two Christiens, the two Madelaines were the same, yet different. Lainie had been forged in modern times, taught to fend for herself, to fight for what was right. Madelaine was a victim of the brutal times she lived in and those circumstances made them vastly different people.

Did it matter that Christien came to her but saw the other Madelaine?

“At first I was drawn to you because you looked like her,” he said. “I thought God, or someone, was playing a cruel trick on me and I was angry. For so long you had been in my mind then suddenly you were in front of me. Flesh and blood. And you didn’t
know.
That’s what hurt the most. You had no idea what we had been to each other.”

“I’m sorry.”

His hand reached out to her then dropped to his side. “You look like her. So much that it stops my breath every time I see you, but there is a strength in you that Madelaine lacked. I loved her.” His tone was so heavy with sadness it made her insides clench. “I grieve for her every day, but ’tis you I want, Lainie.”

Tears pushed against the back of her eyes. She couldn’t blink fast enough to keep them at bay. They rolled down her cheeks and soaked into her shirt. She wanted to believe him. Oh, how she wanted to believe him. The desolation in his expression, the grief and despair physically hurt her.

“Do you not want me, Lainie?”

A sob caught in her throat and she swallowed. Yes, she wanted him. More than she’d wanted anything in her life.

“Do you believe I am the man in your dreams?”

“I think it’s more complicated than that.” Christien possessed depths she couldn’t even begin to touch. Layers that held secrets. She sensed much more to the story of Christien Chevalier. More than a man who dreamt of a woman and fell in love with her. Why did he have clothes dating from that time period? And what about the books on his shelves?

“Who are you really?”

He held his arms out to his sides. “I am but a man who has lived long and seen much. I’ve known joy and despair, love and heartache, peace and war. I’ve been to hell and back and lived to tell about it. I can’t promise that when I look at you I don’t see her. I
can
promise that if you allow me I will protect you with all the resources at hand. I will cherish you, respect you and honor you.”

Her tears came faster, but through them she managed to laugh. “You better watch it. Those almost sound like wedding vows.”

His expression never wavered. “They are vows. Mayhap not wedding vows, but vows nonetheless.” He peeled her hand from the bedpost and took it in his. “When I am away from you, I despair and when I am near you I am happy. Stay with me.”

How could she deny him when he’d already given her so much? And did she want to deny him? Did she want to deny herself? Something between them went far deeper than a past life. She had a feeling they were meant to be together in this life. Maybe to finish what they started. Or maybe it was something else.

“I don’t know why we were brought together again, Christien. All I know is that what is between us is important. But you need to understand I am not that Madelaine. I have my own life and serious responsibilities. I have a job I need to keep so I can pay my father’s medical expenses.” She touched his cheek, feathering her fingers over the rough stubble of his jaw. “I can’t stay here forever, locked away from the real world. I have to go back to my life.”

Something flashed in his eyes, quickly gone before she could decide what it was. “What are you trying to say? Speak plainly.”

She smiled at her warrior, a man more prone to action than words though the words that came from him were beautiful. “I’m saying I would be honored to spend the night with you, but I’m still going back to work tomorrow.”

He kissed her knuckles. “You can’t get any plainer than that.” For the first time in days, he smiled and it stole Lainie’s breath. He was such a beautiful man. A good man. Could she really be so lucky to have known him in two lives? “But I have a few provisions.”

“Uh oh.”

He smiled again.

She wanted to keep him smiling. To make him laugh because she feared he didn’t laugh often enough.

“I understand your need to return to work even though I don’t agree with it.”

She opened her mouth but he put a finger over her lips.

“Let me finish,
mon couer.
”

She pressed her lips together and he withdrew his finger, but not before he brushed the pad of it along her lip, causing her stomach to clench.

“I’m still concerned for your safety, so I am putting a guard on you.”

“That is so unnecessary. This is the twenty-first century, Christien. I’ll be fine.”

“I lost you once, Madelaine, I won’t lose you again. Humor me. You won’t see him, I promise.”

She pictured the bouncer who wouldn’t let her in the first night glued to her side. That would go over real well with Giselle.

“No one will see him?”

“
Non.
He will be very discreet.”

“He can’t go into my office building.”

When he opened his mouth to object, Lainie put her finger over it, mirroring his actions. “That’s nonnegotiable.” She pulled her finger away, but not before she caressed his soft lips. His eyes darkened to a stormy gray.

He captured her trailing hand and kissed the tips of her fingers, his tongue flicking out to pull her finger in his mouth. Those silver eyes, now churning with desire, studied her as he sucked her finger, his mouth closing around it, surrounding it in his heat. She pulled in a breath, her insides turning to liquid, warmth pooling between her legs. She closed her eyes, concentrating on the scrape of his tongue against her skin. A low moan vibrated through her hand.

She whispered his name, a benediction, a plea. Good thing she was sitting down because her legs wouldn’t be able to hold her.

The more he sucked on her finger, the weaker she got.

She swallowed, amazed at what he did with just her finger. She could only imagine what would happen if she let him loose on her whole body.

“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.