Temptation & Twilight (38 page)

“‘I whisper her name, “Veiled Lady,” whisper it over and over again until I am chanting it in my mind. With one kiss I know she will give me the secrets of her soul, the passion of her body.

“‘I step beyond the veils, to the bed of pillows. She is lying there, waiting for me, her eyes glowing like onyx and her lips a bright red—crimson—like the apple Eve used to tempt Adam. My destiny is here, in Jerusalem.

It is her.

“‘With long slender fingers she beckons me to come to her. I resist, but hear her whispered plea in my mind.

“Come to me, my prince.”

“‘I could not resist the lure of her voice, or the way her hand skimmed teasingly over her breast, exposing her flesh and the ripeness of her bosom. She rose to her knees before me. Looking up through a veil of black lashes she smiled a secretive, womanly smile as her hands divested me of my tunic. Heat flooded my blood and I could not BOUND GALLEY EDITION March 23, 2012

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seem to keep hold of my thoughts. She then stood before me, her jewels and headdress tinkling in the quiet, drawing my eye to the abundance of shimmering gold and priceless rubies that adorned her arms and neck. Her eyes seemed to glow in the lantern light, further adding to her exotic sensuality.

“‘The musk-scented incense steadily filled the tent, making my head light, but the hunger I saw in her eyes unleashed an unholy need in me. One look into those hypnotizing eyes and I could not move. I did not breathe.

“‘“Come to me,” she whispered, and not able to stop myself, I reached for her gold, shimmering gown and tore it from her body.

“‘I looked down between us at her nakedness. She was rounded and lush, and roughly catching her about her bottom, I brought her to me so that our sex was pressed together. Hungrily, I took her mouth with mine, heard her purr like a cat being stroked and petted. Unable to curb the animal in me, I lifted her leg and brought her thigh to my waist and ground my straining sex against her flesh, which felt cool against my fevered skin. My hand stroked the contours of her firm thigh, then down to her ankle, which was adorned with gold-and-ruby an-klets. Her eyes seemed to challenge me, her pouting lips welcomed me with a shy smile.

“‘With one thrust I took her, and she gasped, made a deep unearthly sound low in her throat that excited me, filled me with a need, a hunger, I had never experienced.

“‘Ruthlessly I took her, standing up, and she encouraged me with her purrs and cries for more. Like two untamed animals we mated, and when she reached her pleasure I heard her purr turn from that of a kitten to that of lioness, and that was when I felt it, the sting of her teeth as she bit my neck. The pain was momentary, and BOUND GALLEY EDITION March 23, 2012

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led to an ecstasy that knew no bounds. The sucking of lips and tongue aroused me, freed me, and I thrust myself into her harder, taking her with a fierceness I could hardly believe I was capable of.

“‘Collapsing onto her pillows, I loved her through the night, only to awaken in the morning to find her gone.

“‘She was no feverish dream, or a dark need in the night. She was a flesh-and-blood woman, and she was mine.’”

Iain looked up, caught Elizabeth staring at him. What was she seeing behind her eyes? he wondered. Was she envisioning the couple in the diary, or like him, had they somehow morphed into an image of her and him, atop a bed made of pillows? He could see her now, naked, adorned only in the moonstone necklace as he moved atop her. Was it just his wild imaginings or did the story of this ancient couple mirror that of his and Beth’s?

“Did she write of that encounter?” Elizabeth asked, her voice so quiet. She was no longer looking in his direction, but had leaned her head against the window.

“She did. She spoke of being claimed by him, the way her body yielded to him. I…I never knew what it was like for a woman to accept a man into her body, until I read her diary.”

“You understand at last how very sacred it can be.”

“Yes.” Closing the book, he placed it on the floor and reached out, cupping Elizabeth’s knees with his hands.

This was the crux of their difficulties. Always Elizabeth had been far more advanced, more mature than him.

Their loving had been sacred to her, and sacred to him only when he was old enough to understand the difference between fornication and lovemaking. By then it had been much too late.

“I understand how it is for a woman to give herself—

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her body, her safekeeping—into a man’s hands,” Iain murmured.

“She was a virgin,” Elizabeth stated. “He wrote of that moment, feeling her yield, giving herself to him. After, he reflects upon it—the power it gave him, the sense of possession. Years later, he’s dying, and he still writes of it, the memory of possessing a piece of her that no other man would ever have.”

“You understand what it is like for a man, then, when he takes a woman for the first time. She belongs to him, that piece of her that is forever bound to him.” Lizzy blushed, tried to avoid his gaze. “I thought it insignificant for him.”

Carefully, Iain reached out, trailed the backs of his fingers along her cheek. “It was never insignificant for me, Beth. Always, I carried that possession with me. I still think about it, still dream of that evening when you came to me so willingly.”

“You asked me if I think the curse is true. I do. We’re cursed, Iain.”

“I don’t. You know what I think? I think we’re two very old souls trying to find one another again, in a lifetime where they can be together. They were denied it once, in their original incarnations, and now they’re searching. And I think they’ve found each other at last.” After he spoke the words, he knew it for the truth. He and Elizabeth were meant to be.

“Who was she?” Lizzy asked.

“Do you really want to know?” He smiled at how impulsive she was. She never wanted to wait, always wanted to rush headlong into something. Like last night. He’d wanted to savour it slowly, and she couldn’t wait. That was why she had reached for his hand, showing him what she wanted. He’d denied her, because he knew that BOUND GALLEY EDITION March 23, 2012

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sometimes drawing out the pleasure made the climax all the more sweeter.

“I want to know.”

“I’ll tell you, on one condition.”

“And what is that?”

“That you go to the theatre with me.” There was confusion in her expression, and he understood it. Although they had shared their bodies for an entire summer, they had never been seen as a couple. He hadn’t courted her, he’d taken her. Pleasured her. Their relationship had bloomed through the physical acts of sex and the intimacy created. He’d been wrong to do it that way. She deserved to be seen, to be wooed and courted, not to be taken in a glen, away from the world, and ravished.

“Will you, Beth? Will you go with me to the theatre?”

“Yes.”

He was relieved that she had answered that she would.

He didn’t dare question the true motivation for her acceptance. He had a feeling it was all to do with the book.

“Who was she?”

“Are you certain you want to know? Don’t you want me to read more of her diary to you?”

“No, I want to know.”

“Impulsive angel,” he murmured, kissing her softly.

“I should drag it out, make you wait.”

“Would you be so cruel?”

“No,” he said, brushing his fingertips against her mouth. “Not again, Beth.” He watched the pad of his thumb stroke over her lip, saw her head tilt back and her eyes close as she enjoyed the delicate touch.

He wanted her like this, unguarded and relaxed. It would be so easy to lift her nightgown, part her knees and kneel between them, fitting himself deep inside her.

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Another time, when he could come to her freely, when she would accept him…

“Her name was Marguerite, and she was a dancer in the King of Jerusalem’s harem.” Elizabeth’s eyes flew open, wild and unfocused, and he kissed her eyelids. “The king loved her, but could not take her. He was a leper, so he consoled himself by watching her dance. When the Templars arrived, he was dying. He decided to secure her future. It was, after all, the greatest way to show her his love. He betrothed her to a knight, bequeathed her riches, ensured she would be a lady of great standing.”

“Who? Who was
he?
”

Iain smiled. Lizzy was breathless. She reminded him so much of the woman in the diary. Fiery, passionate, determined but loyal, even if that loyalty caused her pain.

“Haelan St. Clair, my great-grandfather numerous generations removed. She became his wife, and Sinjin’s Veiled Lady was lost to him. But she loved him—it was always only Sinjin she loved. She kept her vows to Haelan and was loyal, but her love belonged to Sinjin. She continued to write in her diary about the yearnings of her heart. Her belief that one day she would die, and her soul would be reborn and she would find a way to be with her lover.”

“Haelan discovered the diary.”

“He took it to a witch who lived on the fringes of the clan. She put a curse on the book and the souls of both Marguerite and Sinjin. To prevent them ever being reunited, she placed a curse on both our houses, so that none of us could ever meet and fall in love—without pain.”

“How long have you known?”

Would the truth help or hurt his cause? he wondered.

He decided it didn’t matter. Only the truth would do.

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“All my life, I suppose. The diary has been passed down, along with the warning of the curse. But when I first saw you, no curse could have stopped me from wanting you.

From risking such a fate. When you looked at me, Beth, well… My soul knew yours.”

She touched him, caressed his cheeks, tried to see him. She was checking for insincerity. Lies. She would find none.

The hardest thing he ever did, beside walk away from her all those years ago, was to leave her then. To kiss her softly and whisper goodbye, when all he really wanted to do was to make love to her, make her understand he regretted everything in his past—except her. Except the days they had spent together.

She held him, gripped his hands. “Do you believe in the curse?”

“Nay, lass,” he murmured, making her smile at the sound of his brogue. “I believe we either curse ourselves, or free ourselves with our own actions. The only curse we suffer from is the fear we both harbour. It isn’t easy giving it up, but it’s the only way. We either will or we won’t. Either way, that fear still rules us, and until we let it go, we’ll not make our way back to each other. We both have to want it, Beth. Both have to let go of the past, and the fears that bind us, before we can ever be free to move on to a place that is meant only for us.” BOUND GALLEY EDITION March 23, 2012

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TWO NIGHTS LATER, Elizabeth found herself attending the theatre, a first in many years—and never before with Iain as her escort. It gave her a curious feeling to be going with him, a sensation she didn’t want to examine too closely. Especially after what had happened between them.

It was still cold, and the ground was covered with snow, but the streets were passable enough for carriages to dredge through. Besides, the ton had been kept indoors for nearly five nights and they were restless, needing some mindless activity to while away the evening. When Iain had sent around a missive informing her the theatre was on for the night, she had felt a sense of excitement.

She had not seen him or spoken to him since he’d left her sitting at the window bench. She had thought nearly nonstop about the story of Sinjin, and the fact that his lover had been Iain’s great-grandmother. Unfathomable that Sinjin and Marguerite had been lovers over seven centuries before. Strangely, it seemed fitting how it had played out. Though Lizzy didn’t know what to think about the curse. She certainly felt cursed in her connection to Iain Sinclair. But there was longing there—a deep, visceral longing that she could no longer shove to the bottom of her soul.

“Here you go,” he murmured as he helped her to sit in the chair in his personal box. He was careful with her, BOUND GALLEY EDITION March 23, 2012

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even sweeping the train of her gown away to protect it from his boots. She had chosen the blue gown she had been wearing at the Sumners’ musicale, the night it all began once more between them. It was a daring move, part of her hoping it might rekindle some of Iain’s sensual intensity.

She shouldn’t have worn it, but a little devil inside her had tempted her beyond reason. Tonight she wanted to be stunning, a sensual creature he couldn’t take his eyes off of. She had felt his gaze on the expanse of bosom displayed by her low neckline. The moment he’d taken her cloak from her shoulders, she had heard his indrawn breath, felt the heat of his eyes. But he had refrained from saying anything, even complimenting her. Now she felt hurt, and slightly reckless, wishing to lash out. He confused her thoughts, her ordered life.

“A Midsummer Night’s Dream,”
he said as he leaned toward her. “Fitting, considering the foot of snow outside.”

Fanning herself, she smiled. Whether he wondered about her silence since they had emerged from the carriage, she could not tell. He seemed distracted himself, as though he were busy looking for someone. Who that might be, she could not imagine, and it was something she most definitely did not want to dwell on.