Scoundrel's Kiss (15 page)

"No serious damage," he said.
"You are lucky."

"And you? Can you say the
same?"

Gavriel's eyes turned impossibly dark.
Arched black brows pulled together, concentrating like a man trying to see
through brick, and Ada steeled herself against the need to look away.

She had been with this man in close
quarters and under deeply personal circumstances, but she had not been of any
mind to see him. Really
see
him. And the man who knelt at her
feet—her captor, her unlikely savior—was breathtaking to behold.
Not even a master sculptor could recreate the sharp, strong bones of his face,
the cut of his jaw and the straight length of his nose. But for a face hewn of
so many harsh angles, she also found surprising softness in his full lower lip.

Unexpected heat collected in her veins,
turning her muscles to sticky dough and bathing her mind in a sensuous wash of
pleasure. But unlike the lethargy of an opium high, these sensations built and
bunched and intensified. For the first time in months, she did not crave the
bitter taste of her tincture, which would only blunt the bright shock of her
desire. Instead she craved the taste of him.

She rubbed her upper arm but nothing
dispelled that gathering need. Beneath her nervous fingertips, her skin felt
especially soft.

"I must dress," she said,
surprised by the husky timbre of her voice. Her smile softened, melting along
with her bones. "You can leave. Or you can stay."

Panic blew across his features, making
him seem younger and more vulnerable. The stern frown he had worn while
scrutinizing her face altered slightly, the brows drawing up above the bridge
of his nose. A look of pleading.

Yes. His vows. Heat, flesh, and
closeness had banished his vows from her mind. And now he silently pleaded with
her to make a decision—not that he would have admitted such a thing.

Her own decision made, Ada stood and
looked down to where he still knelt, his fingers interlaced around the back of
her calf. She had seen him kneel before, but now he submitted to her. Dizziness
from her long, hot bath melded with desire.

"Either way," she said.
"You'll have to release my leg."

"And if I don't?"

She grinned, in part because of his
question—a threat that sounded more" like teasing—and in part
because his voice had roughened to sand. The smooth veneer of his confidence
had eroded completely.

'If you don't, I'll likely fell into
the bath." He released her leg as if she were the fire now. A pent up
breath pushed free of her lungs, just as a damp heat licked her inner thighs.
"No matter," she said. "I believe you would have caught me
anyway."

She turned her back, inhaled, and
dropped the cloth.

Gavriel arose, his legs trembling like
those of a newborn colt. She stood motionless in front of him with the graceful
length of her bare back, buttocks, and legs his to see. She had not eaten
regularly in days, and the bones of her spine and her ribs stood out. That
should have been enough to temper his crippling lust, to send him away. But
after closing the door, he drew closer.

When one step separated his body from
hers, Gavriel breathed the scent of lemon and skin warmed by the mineral-rich
spring water. The more he breathed, the more lightheaded he became. He felt
every heartbeat in triplicate: beneath his ribs, in his skull, at his groin.

He brushed his mouth along the curve of
her shoulder. She shuddered but did not pull away. The moist heat of his breath
raised goose bumps on her skin and reflected back against his face. He waited,
glorying in that intimate caress, knowing he would take her if he tasted her.

She breathed with more urgency now. The
sharp bones at the tops of her shoulders raised and lowered. He imagined her
nipples would stand tight atop her firm breasts. What color would they be?
Dusky or pink? In his panic at finding her asleep in the hot spring, he had not
indulged in the luxury of studying her. Now he needed only to turn her around.
It would be as easy as taking her arm and tugging.

"Order me to go," he rasped.

Ada looked over her shoulder. He let
his eyes fall down the line of her brow and her cheeks and her chin. "I
won't do that," she said.

"Why not?" The need to touch
her again burned like hell's fires. "No respectable woman behaves as you
do."

"We both know I left respectable
behind some time ago."

"Then you do this as a game or as
punishment."

"You're mistaken if you believe
this involves you alone." She spoke with less deliberation and more speed.
"Perhaps I do this simply to see what
I'll
do next. I hardly know
who I am anymore. It makes me wonder."

He reached out to trace the line of her
shoulder blade but pulled back. "Wonder what?"

"Am I the kind of woman to seduce
you outright or will I wait for you? Either way, you've become a most welcome
distraction."

She turned, and Gavriel had his answer.
Her nipples were pink.

"Ada, don't—"

"You think you've cured me because
I no longer shake or cry," she said. "But in that you're mistaken.
The need is still here. Right here." She clenched one hand over the other
and pressed it to the hollow between her breasts. "It's like thirst or
hunger or lust. A need. Can you understand that?"

He could only nod, a weak one at that.
A delicious and wanton angel stood before him, his own parable of temptation.
The redness of the hot spring had faded, leaving the smoothest white porcelain
skin—a feast for his eyes. But he wanted more. No matter his aims or his
vows, he was a man who
needed
more.

"I can understand," he said
thickly.

"Then help me, Gavriel. Give me
something new to crave."

Chapter 11

With one breath, Ada was standing naked
before him, as aroused as she ever had been. Waiting. Wanting him to be the man
he tried to hide, a man of danger and strength. But that strength had lowly
human limits.

And with one more breath, she was in
his arms.

Their lips met. The raw, musky taste of
him grabbed her tongue. But more than his taste, he was heat. Fire and flame
and the deep growl in his throat The lengthy soak in the hot spring had muddled
her body temperature, leaving her cold and seeking more of the warmth his body
promised.

Still kissing, still tasting, she wrapped
her arms around his neck and threaded trembling fingers into his short dark
hair. He matched her urgency, his hands clenching and kneading her backside. He
brought one hand higher to press between her shoulder blades and crush their
chests together. The coarse wool of his tunic grazed her sensitized nipples,
magnifying the urgency of her need.

Ada wiggled against his confining arms,
but not to escape— to be closer, to let him claim her. The aching hollow
between her legs made her greedy. Never had she felt such a consuming need to
be with and near another human being.

Bending into Gavriel's unyielding body,
she closed her eyes and reveled in his foreign textures: the roughness of his
tongue, the spiky softness of his hair, the rasp of his beard growth along her
cheeks and lips. The hard length of his arousal. He squeezed her backside
again, nearly to the point of pain, pulling her hips into the cradle of his.
Only his breeches separated their questing bodies.

The thought of that
barrier—leaving them so close to what they both wanted, but still
divided—drew a tangled groan from deep in her belly. He matched the
sound, deepening their kiss with renewed drive. The hard thrust of his tongue
and the nipping bite of his teeth tested the depths of her passion, daring her
to keep up. The restrained power and tension coiled within his muscles added to
her excitement How much longer could he kiss without taking? How much longer
could she kiss without stripping him bare and dragging him to the ground?

No, she could kiss him for an eternity.

A masculine shout from the end of the
corridor pushed them apart. They stood looking at each other and listening.
Gavriel's lips were swollen. His broad chest heaved. He frowned and canted his
head toward the door. And with a single blink, the passion that had clouded his
dark eyes dissipated.

"Grab your satchel and hide,"
he said, turning away from her.

Suddenly aware of her nudity, Ada
assessed the oval bathing room for possible places to hide and found none.
Light from the torch illuminated every surface. Gavriel seemed to read her
thoughts. He grabbed the torch from its wall sconce and pinned Ada with one
more heated look before snubbing it against the stone floor.

The room descended into black and
revived old fears. The rhythm of her breathing faltered as panic overpowered
the receding passion in her blood. She hated the dark. Darkness meant
captivity, pain, and helplessness. Her limbs refused to cooperate. The buzzing
in her ears grew louder and stole her sense of direction. She needed her
clothes.

Then a hand clamped over her mouth. She
screamed, but the sound stayed close and low.

"Inglesa,
calm
yourself."

Relief sluiced over her skin and sank
into her bones. She sagged against his chest, his arm around her waist

"Someone is coming," he said
in a whisper against her ear. "And you must prepare yourself."

She peeled his fingers down from her
mouth. "The dark."

"The dark is no danger. I'm here
with you. Now find your clothes and stand ready."

For the second time in as many minutes,
Gavriel had to let go. And no matter his aims for the future, he did not want
to. Just when he had been ready to throw his vows to the four winds and lay Ada
down, someone had discovered them. Clinging to her would do nothing to protect
them from that menace.

She dropped to the ground, and he heard
her scuffling over the stones. He pulled her dagger free of the sheath at his
waist and counted three steps to the door. Fingers along the woodwork, he found
the latch, locked the door, and turned his back flat against the wall.

"Come to the other side of
me," he whispered.

Ada scrambled nearby, his body between
her and the door. She wrestled with something, perhaps her kirtle. The scent of
lemon snaked into his nose. The erection that had only just started to subside
raged to life. Frustration beset him from all sides and stoked his temper.
Blood and breath accelerated. He could not rid himself of how distracting she
was; instead, he channeled his grinding desire into violence.

A scream echoed down the corridor,
still bright and terrified despite the door's muffling wood.

"Blanca," Ada said softly.

"They'll not hurt her if they're
looking for us."

"And if they're common thieves or
men intent on rape? You're content to take that chance?"

"I’ll not endanger either one of
us, if that's what you're suggesting."

Ada dug ragged fingernails into his
forearm. "You cannot abandon her. She saved our lives."

"We don't know that," he said
with more conviction man he felt "This could have been a plot to trap us
down here."

"Ridiculous. Now give me my
dagger, since you refuse to help her."

"No."

"And why not? I've seen how your
vows hobble your ability to fight."

Gavriel shook his head in the darkness.
Vows or best intentions aside, he would defend Ada. In that moment, in that
place of danger, the primal impulse to defend his woman took precedent over
every higher ideal—even if she could never be
his
woman. A few
more minutes alone together and she would have been, no matter the consequences.
He would not be distracted from keeping her safe.

He shrugged free of her talons and
pinned her against the wall. She wore a kirtle at least, the gauzy linen
beneath his hand made warm by the flesh of her hip. He squeezed until she let
out a small yelp.

"Are you paying heed,
inglesa?"

"Yes."

"You're not going anywhere. And I
can fight"

"I've always suspected as
much," she said. "Now use what you know to help her."

"Not if that means leaving you
here and defenseless."

She laughed, a sound more like a sigh.
"It pains me that you still believe me defenseless. Ill have to convince
you otherwise."

"I take it back. But I'm not
leaving you in the dark to scream your fool head off, not after all the trouble
you've been."

"Is that all I am, Gavriel?
Trouble?"

"Without question."

Metal-clad fists pummeled the door. Ada
flinched but did not make a sound. There in the dark, she gave him room to
adjust his stance—legs slightly spread, knees easy and ready. Again he
wondered at the source of her training.

Finding her hand, he pressed the hilt
of her dagger against her palm and curled her fingers.