Nicole Jordan (12 page)

Diana Sheridan did something unnatural to him.

Part of his attraction, no doubt, was because she resisted him so vigorously. He couldn’t recall the last time a woman had actively sought to escape his attention. And her adamant aversion to marriage increased his level of comfort while decreasing his need to maintain such strict defenses. Moreover, he’d had no sexual release since returning to Cyrene, and celibacy was not a state he relished.

Yet there was more to Diana Sheridan than her beautiful face and body; something complex and enticing about her called to him. Each time he learned more about her, he became more intrigued. Her fortitude in the face of adversity, in particular, had earned his respect and admiration.

Regardless of the cause of his attraction, however, the simple truth was that she was a greater temptation than any he’d ever dealt with.

It was perhaps too far-fetched to blame the island’s mythical spell and the infamous seductive effect on a mortal’s senses. But he might have made a mistake by delaying their departure for quite so long. It had been imperative to set plans in place for infiltrating Venus’s sin club, and to gain his aunt’s support before arriving, but Thorne regretted now not embarking sooner. Yet he had to control himself for only a few more days. Surely he could quell his desire for Diana for that long.

Even so, he would be very glad to put Cyrene behind him and get on with executing his mission in London—finding Nathaniel’s killer.

He knew he was making another mistake two nights later, the final evening before their scheduled departure. They had no social engagements planned for tonight but would dine at home since their ship would set sail early the next morning.

When Thorne arrived in the drawing room, it was approaching sunset, but there was no sign of Diana or his ward. Through the French doors, however, he could see the distant figure of a woman beyond the terraced gardens.

She stood near the edge of the bluff, gazing up at a carob tree silhouetted against the red-gold sky. When he made out the shape of an easel, he knew it had to be Diana.

The view no doubt was what had lured her, Thorne reflected. At this time of evening it would be spectacular. The bluffs faced east, but as sometimes happened, the clouds on the horizon would form a roiling collage of incredible colors.

Without allowing himself to think, he followed Diana’s path out to the bluffs.

The vista was indeed magnificent, he saw as he drew closer. The smoldering fire of the setting sun reflected on the sea, turning the surface to flame, while the hovering clouds made a brilliant canopy at the horizon’s edge.

When he reached Diana, he saw that she stood with a palette in one hand, a brush in the other, and was swiftly blocking out a landscape on the canvas, using clean, sure strokes.

She seemed so immersed in her work that Thorne didn’t think she even noticed his presence.

When she finally spoke, her quiet murmur was filled with reverence. “This entire week I have watched the sunset sky from my bedchamber window, and I couldn’t resist coming here on my last evening.”

I couldn’t resist coming here either,
Thorne thought, although the sunset was not what had drawn him.

Remaining silent, he watched Diana at work. Now and then she bent to the wooden box at her feet—which was filled with brushes and jars of turpentine and bladders of paint—and chose another brush, but otherwise she kept her gaze wholly focused on the breathtaking vista and the canvas before her.

What she was doing seemed magical; right before his eyes, a scene was taking shape on the canvas.

In the foreground of her composition stood the sharp outline of what would be the carob tree. Below the bluff’s edge was the white rock promontory that sheltered the cove. And beyond that, the sea stretched to the distant horizon and melted into a churning turmoil of flaming clouds.

It wasn’t the painting being born, however, that captured Thorne’s fascinated attention; it was the painter.

Diana had drawn her lower lip between her teeth, and the intensity of her concentration revealed her ardor for her work; he could actually feel her fierce passion. And the loving care she took with each brushstroke was almost…sensual.

Her own vibrancy was just as sensual. The setting sun at her back turned her hair to dark fire, while the crimson-gold light of the sky bathed her beautiful features with enchanting radiance.

Seeing her this way aroused a fierce yearning within Thorne to share her passion. He suddenly had no doubt that she would make love with the same sensual intensity.

He couldn’t have said how long he stood there watching her, but eventually he realized the sunset had faded and the evening light had dimmed to dusk.

A moment later the sky turned charcoal gray with only a few pale streaks of pink remaining at the edge.

“I wish it would last longer,” Diana murmured with obvious frustration. “But at least I memorized enough to complete this scene.”

Thorne tried to shake himself from his daze. She was speaking of art, while all he could think about was making love to her. Devil take it, he had to regain control of his lustful thoughts.

“It is so difficult to capture a sunset,” she added softly, her tone regretful.

A sudden image struck Thorne, making him see a vivid parallel: Winning this woman would be like capturing a sunset. Diana was much like a sunset, with her captivating vibrancy, and grasping that elusive magic would be complex and arduous. Even so, he felt desire fill him at the possibility.

Unsuspecting of Thorne’s reflections, Diana gave a wistful sigh. She could do no more this evening, for it was too dark to see, despite the quarter moon that had slowly materialized in the inky sky overhead.

Bending, she set down her palette and stowed her brush, yet she couldn’t bring herself to gather her materials to return to the villa. Instead, she kept her gaze on the vista beyond the bluffs. She could hear the quiet whisper of the waves in the cove below, could feel the fresh caress of the breeze on her face.

She didn’t want to leave this place, this moment. This was the last night she would ever spend on this beautiful isle, and she didn’t want it to end.

As if dazed, she moved a few steps closer to the bluff. There was such freedom here. She had never felt so free. And there was an enchantment to the evening that touched her soul with a strange mingling of peace and excitement.

She understood the excitement, though. She might have been absorbed in her work, but never for a moment had she been unaware of the man who had followed her here.

Just now her awareness of Thorne returned with a vengeance. When he moved to stand directly behind her, she felt his presence like a tangible caress.

Diana tensed, knowing she should resist the traitorous warmth rising within her at his nearness. “I suppose we should return,” she said in a breathy voice. “Amy will be missing us.”

“I expect so,” he agreed.

Yet he made no move to go.

Around them full night descended. The gentle silence of darkness enveloped them, as soft as the sea breeze, while the rising moon sent a wash of silvery light over the rippling water. From somewhere in the distance, a nightingale drifted into ethereal song.

Diana thought she must be dreaming, and yet she felt vividly alive. Her pulse was reckless, her skin oversensitive, her breasts tight and feverish.

Then Thorne touched her. His hand reached up to caress her hair, stroking slowly over the smooth chignon she wore above her nape.

Feeling her breath falter, Diana wondered if he meant to unpin her hair. But his hand moved on, his fingertips tracing the shell of her ear, leaving a trail of heat in their wake.

When his thumb grazed along her jawline to brush her parted lips, her breath fled altogether, but she made no protest, merely stood mutely, unable to make a sound.

Both his hands rose then, to the bare skin of her shoulders. The neckline of her silk dinner gown was low enough to expose the beginning swells of her bosom, so when he slid his arms around her, gliding his palms down over her bare flesh, he met with no resistance. When his fingers found the peaks beneath the thin silk of her bodice and chemise, Diana’s heart lurched painfully.

“Thorne…”

“Hush, love.”

He caught her nipples between his fingers and exerted gentle pressure, sending fire lancing through her. At the same time his lips pressed briefly to the curve of her neck, the touch hot and tender, making a heavy ache form deep in her lower body.

The magic was seducing her senses, Diana knew, and she was helpless to fight it.

No, that was a lie. She didn’t want to fight it. If Thorne wished to make love to her in the moonlit darkness, she feared she might not have the will to stop him. It would be so easy to let herself be swept away. She had never experienced real passion before. Never known the kind of ecstasy that poets lauded. And now, wrapped in Thorne’s erotic embrace, she wanted desperately for him to show her the kind of carnal bliss she had only dreamed of until now.

She felt her limbs growing liquid and weak. He was kneading her breasts so slowly and exquisitely that the pleasure nearly melted her, setting up hot, churning sensations deep in her body.

“You tantalize me,” he whispered, his voice hoarse.

He tantalized her in turn. He filled her with a hungry longing. A longing she had harbored inside herself for years. She’d simply never realized it until just this moment.

She was scarcely aware when Thorne pulled at the bodice of her gown and the fabric of her chemise, drawing both down over the top edge of her corset, exposing her aching breasts to the cool night air. Without pause, his thumbs moved in a maddeningly light caress over their tips, making her shudder with longing.

Her entire body was aroused now, yet he seemed content merely to torment her…stroking the swollen globes, flicking the throbbing crests, cupping and teasing the buds with expert skill.

Involuntarily Diana arched her back, thrusting her breasts against his magical hands. An almost unbearable ache was rising down at the pit of her stomach and between her thighs. At her movement, though, she felt the rigid blade of Thorne’s arousal against her buttocks, proof of his urgent desire.

A tremor knifed through her.

That seemed to be the signal he was waiting for, for one hand left her breast and moved downward, his palm stroking over her rib cage, and lower…over her stomach…and lower still, to the juncture of her thighs, his fingers probing through the silk of her skirts.

Whimpering, Diana arched helplessly against him.

The sultry, pleading sound clouded Thorne’s senses, while the feel of her buttocks pressing so tauntingly against him drove his throbbing manhood tight against his satin breeches. Not allowing himself to think, he pulled Diana even closer, into the hard heat of his body.

He had the fiercest urge to turn her around and lower his head to her breasts, suckling each of her nipples, savoring her with his mouth. He had an even fiercer urge to explore her silken mysteries.

He could picture her naked, her ivory skin shimmering in the moonlight, her pale, silken thighs opening for him.
Why are you waiting?
a dark voice whispered.
She’s hot and willing, yours for the taking.

He could feel her tremors burn through him with an exquisite torture. He wanted her as badly as he’d ever wanted any woman in his life. He wanted Diana moaning beneath him, sheathing him in her wet heat. He wanted to hear her cries of passion when he exploded inside her….

Thorne drew a sharp breath, fighting against the hot tide of his desire. He was close, within a hairsbreadth, of breaking his vow not to seduce her.

Hell and damnation.
He had gone too far.

Pressing his forehead against her fragrant hair, he held her sweet body against him in an agony of want, cursing himself for his damnable weakness. He had vowed he wouldn’t touch Diana, but here he was, nearly seducing her again.

Why was it that every encounter with this woman shot his control to hell? Never had a sworn oath seemed so fragile a barrier.

He had to regain his control, though. Only sheer strength of will allowed him to step back from the dark grip of passion.

Drawing a labored breath, Thorne forced himself to release her. Instantly he felt her stillness; even in the darkness he could sense her bewilderment at his sudden abandonment. But he clenched his teeth to ignore it and the burning in his loins.

One thing was imminently clear. He had to get this bewitching siren off the island before he did something irrevocable.

Five

I
t was
with a vast sense of relief that Diana boarded Thorne’s schooner the next morning. The Isle of Cyrene was enchanting and incredibly beautiful, but the sooner they departed, the sooner she could regain command of her senses.

At dinner the previous evening, following her scandalous tryst with Thorne on the bluffs, she had scarcely known where to look. Whenever she met his gaze across the table, she remembered his arousing fingers stroking her breasts, and her entire body flushed. Thankfully Thorne had been able to summon the kind of control she had not and had drawn back at the last moment.