Warrior's Bride (23 page)

  She arched against him in response to his touch. Tension coiled his muscles. A satisfied possessiveness flared in his dark gaze as he lowered his head once more and took the hard nub of her nipple deep into his mouth. He nipped and licked with deliberate slowness, playing with one nub and then the other until her body shook with need.

  Her senses swirled and a heady intensity filled her. She wanted more. "Wolf—" was all she could say, unable to put into words what she felt deep in the center of her being.

  His mouth once again found hers, sweet, urgent, and tender. Not breaking the kiss, he lifted her hips, bringing his manhood to the center of her being, poised for entrance, yet he held himself back.

  "I want you," he breathed against her lips, sounding like a man in agony.

  A rush of tenderness merged with her own desire, and she knew he waited for her to show her consent. She arched against him, wanting to be absorbed into his hard body, to join with him in this most intimate of ways, to burn with the same passion that hitched his breath in his throat.

  On a groan, he pushed into her.

  Pain tore through her, hot and swift. Her cry was smothered by his kiss as he eased farther inside her, then paused, poised above her as though he were afraid to move forward or back.

  Beads of sweat gleamed on his shoulders and chest. His hair fell across his brow, wild and untamed, yet he was no beast. Not now. He was only a man, mortal, exquisite, and joined with her.

  She clamped her fingers around his arms, realizing she did not want to let him go. The thought filled her with wonder as the pain faded and she became aware only of a deep, rigid fullness.

  His palms cupped her buttocks and held her against him, almost as though refusing to allow her retreat .Yet he waited, his gaze on her, his breathing ragged.

  "I..." She tried to convey what she felt deep inside. "I... want you."

  He released a low groan deep in his throat. He drew out and plunged forward. A hot shiver rippled across her flesh. He moved with raw, blinding sensuality, driving deeper and deeper, building that frantic urgency within her again.

  He rocked her back and forth with each driving thrust and she reached to meet him, giving back what he tried to give her. Then it happened. A jolt of sensation blossomed, then ruptured, spilling over in wave after wave of pleasure. She tightened her legs around his hips and arched up. He thrust against her, accepting what she offered until a deep, body-wrenching shudder moved through him as his own pleasure peaked, then soared.

  Silence settled over the room as he settled onto the bed beside her. His head rested against her shoulder while his hand continued to caress her abdomen, her ribs, her chest. "Sleep now," he murmured against her ear. His breath was warm, soothing.

  Izzy sighed, utterly content. Gradually, her breathing slowed, and she could feel the tension ease from her body. Lush with the unfamiliar sensation of satisfaction, she drifted, allowing her mind to wander. In Wolf's arms, time and memory had no meaning. All that mattered was the fullness, the completion they'd just shared.

  Her mind drifted, thoughts flitted through, disjointed, abstract, but no trace of insanity threatened. Izzy allowed herself a satisfied smile. Her mother had been wrong about joining with a man. Her mother had been wrong about many things.

  Izzy's hand crept up to touch the necklace still fastened about her neck. Her fingers found the Stone, and she brushed her thumb over the polished surface. Perhaps it was possible to forget all the things that had brought them together, all the secrets that remained untold, and just live in the moment as he had encouraged her to do—to live a life of make-believe.

  He looped his forearm about her waist, pulling her tight against his warm, solid body. She'd had enough of nightmarish times during her life in the tower and on the isle with the MacDonalds. Maybe this man and this life was her reward for those turbulent times. Or was this just a small respite from an even greater danger that threatened?

  The thought had no sooner formed when a flash of white light darted through her mind. Her grip tightened on the Stone. She tried to pull her fingers away but instead found herself clinging to the necklace all the harder. The white light faded and a swirling vortex took its place. A vision filled her mind.

Chapter Twenty-two

  A splash of red appeared in Isobel's mind, followed by another splash of green, purple, and gold. Exotic colon blended together, twisting and turning. She tried to block the images, tried to fight the all-consuming power over her thoughts the images held.

  She tensed and clenched her hands, her fists, every muscle tightened, but it was no use. The vision invaded until a clear image filled her mind's eye. She saw herself standing at a river's edge. Dirty brown water raged at her feet. White-tipped waves sprayed her with a fine mist. She wore her old ragged gown, the one Mistress Rowley had burned. The dress hung loose about her shoulders. What remained of the thin, wet fabric hung in loose strips that fell to her feet.

  Behind her sat a wolf—the same wolf from her earlier vision, only this time his leg was healed. He watched her from a distance. His eyes were dark and as impenetrable as a sheet of ice on a cold winter's eve.

  A chill invaded her. She tried to wrap her arms about her waist in an effort to retain what little heat remained inside her, but something pulled against her wrists. She tugged, harder this time, only to find her wrists were bound by manacles—-just like the ones she had worn for years in the tower on the isle.

  Water touched her bare toes. She flinched back, only to find herself surrounded by the current. The water tugged at her calves, then her knees. She tried to move, but her feet held fast, as if frozen by some force outside herself.

  A rush of panic filled her. She looked back to where the beast sat. A shout left her lips, but her plea for help was carried away by the sound of the rushing water that now reached her waist.

  The beast's features hardened and he loped away. Secrets have a way of coming out. The knowledge of who you are will destroy you, destroy us, a voice echoed all around her.

  Confusion mixed with panic. The water seemed to rise higher and higher with each breath she drew. The current tugged at her flesh, brutal, unforgiving. It covered her head, pulling her down in its depths toward darkness, toward death. She had to get out. She had to live.

  "Isobel." A voice broke through the darkness. "Isobel!"

  "I am Isobel," she repeated to herself, trying to keep hold of herself and her reality. Something pushed at her arms. Her mind cleared. She sat up on Wolf’s bed, clutched in his arms. "What... what happened?"

  "I do not know," Wolf said, a frown darkening his face. "One moment you were here with me, the next you seemed miles away. You had a vision, didn't you?"

  Isobel gazed hazily about the room, trying to gain control over the frantic beating of her heart. The water was gone. The chamber was bathed in muted light that filtered in through the stained glass windows. Dizzying relief soared through her, yet confusion lingered as well. "I have no wish for these skills."

  Wolf reached for her necklace. "This Stone looks like Brahan's, except that the image carved onto its face is different, more rounded."

  She might not want to be a seer, but she'd had another vision. That much she could not deny. And what did this vision tell her? That to continue her life as a lie would only end in death?

  She shivered, not from Wolf’s touch against her naked flesh, but from a chill that radiated deep from within her core. So cold. Had she ever been this cold?

  He held her close against his bare chest, and she let him, not wanting to release the warmth and safety he offered. When she shivered against his shoulder, he pulled back and moved from the bed. He limped across the room to a short wooden chest and withdrew a fresh shirt and breeches for himself, then retrieved her shift and gown from the floor before returning to the bed. He draped the garments over her head and settled them around her body before he sat beside her once more. His gaze fixed on her face. "Are you warmer now?"

  "Nay," she said truthfully. "This chill is worse than after my last..."

  "Vision," he finished her sentence for her.

  She cringed at the word. To acknowledge that she had visions meant she had to believe that what she saw could come true. He had asked her to withhold the truth from him. If she continued to do so, did that mean she would die?

  There had to be another choice, something she didn't take into account. He brought his hand up to caress her shoulder, and she could feel the warmth of his flesh through the fabric of her gown. And still she shivered. Her body ached with a bone-chilling cold. Perhaps if she weren't so cold she might be able to think of something else, but her brain felt sluggish, incapable of rational thought.

  Wolf's expression grew troubled. "When Brahan has a vision an increasing section of his hair turns white. Perhaps the same thing happens to you, except your sacrifice is your body's heat." Wolf tugged one of the blankets from the bed and wrapped it about her shoulders.

  "If that is true," she said through her chattering teeth, "then I shall surely freeze to death if another vision comes my way." She inhaled sharply, seizing a wild idea that came into her mind. With trembling hands she reached for her necklace, carefully avoiding the Stone. She untied the cord and slipped the treasure her mother had given her from her neck.

  "What are you doing?"

  "Without the necklace I can have no more visions." She reached for a small, intricately carved box on the bedside table, opened it, and slipped the necklace inside before closing it again.

  "Will you do something for me?" she asked.

  "Anything."

  "Hide this from me. Put it where I shall never find it."

  "Whatever for?" He frowned but wrapped his fingers around the box.

  "It has brought me nothing but misery all my life." She dropped her gaze, no longer able to look him in the eye, almost afraid that he would read the dark secrets she carried there. "My life here has changed all that. Please take it away."

  He brought her gaze back to his with a finger beneath her chin. "If it is truly what you desire, then aye."

  "Thank you." The words seemed so simple for the depth of emotion they contained. Taking the necklace away would stop the visions, and maybe even forestall Wolf from discovering the truth about her past. If the Stone stayed away from her, perhaps the future she foresaw would, too. For now, it was her only option.

  Despite the relief she felt, Isobel shivered violently. "If I can only find some way to get warm." She wrapped the blanket more tightly around her shoulders.

  "Come with me. I know just the place."

  Before she could speak, he set the box on the pillow, took her by the hand, and pulled her with him out of the chamber. Despite his limp, he set a steady pace, guiding her down the hallway and up the stairs to his private domain.

  "Your leg," she said when she caught her breath at the top of the stairs.

  "I think we have already proved my leg is fine."

  Had she been capable of the warmth, she was certain her cheeks would have flamed scarlet. Instead, another chill wracked her body, nearly bringing her to her knees.

  "Steady." He reached for her arm and offered her support before placing her hands against the doorjamb. "Use this to regain your bearing while I make a fire." He vanished into the darkness of the room.

  Isobel stood at the doorway of Wolf's private tower chamber. Chill air surrounded her, engulfing her in what felt like a dark void where nothing and no one existed.

  A light flared from within the small room and she could see him move toward the oddly shaped hearth in the corner. A spark from the flint leapt onto the kindling. A moment later, hungry flames lapped at the wood. Radiant warmth curled through the chamber, like fingers beckoning her forward, toward heat, toward life, toward him.

  He stood next to the fire, his gaze now fully on her. "Come. The fire will warm you."

  His eyes held dark, exotic mysteries and the curve of his lips was blatantly sensual. It gave her a queer, hot feeling in the pit of her stomach yet again. Before she could rationalize why she should not enter the small enclosed space, she found herself before him. Crisp morning air clung to him, making her head feel light, dizzy, euphoric. His very presence intoxicated her, robbing her of all logical thought. Near him, she did not feel the fear that usually followed when she entered a confined space.

  "Are you warmer here?" he asked, his voice gentle, soothing.

  A wave of heat tingled through her that had nothing to do with the fire. The heat from his body surrounded her. The muscles of her limbs felt heavy and weak, unable to support her own weight. She sagged.

  "Easy now." His hand came out to support her. With his other hand, he reached out to caress her cheek, her throat. She inhaled sharply as a shiver ran through her.