Her gown would slip off with a gentle tug. That's all it would take to strip it off her. That's all it would take for him to lose control and break every promise he'd ever made to himself. He'd vowed to find the men who murdered his parents. He'd vowed to exact revenge on them. He'd vowed to destroy evil wherever he found it. He'd vowed never to put those he loved at risk. "Don't, Nicola."
To admit that she mattered to him would make him vulnerable again and he'd vowed never to allow it to happen. Nicola was his weakness. His hunger. His yearning.
She released another ragged breath. "Do I matter to you?"
He needed to let her go. Why couldn't he let her go?
The lantern light shone on her thick riot of curls and illuminated their beautiful reds and browns. He wanted to pull out the pins holding up her hair and watch the fiery strands fall in a wild tumble around her soft, creamy shoulders. He wanted to plunge his hands through the silky length of that lush mass.
He wasn't certain he could maintain his control if she turned around.
Don't turn around, Nicola.
Don't turn around.
The gown slipped lower.
"John … "
He growled low in his throat.
She turned around.
CHAPTER 6
NICOLA HADN'T A moment to catch her breath before John's lips descended on hers and she was captured in his crushing embrace. Oh, dear heaven. This is what she'd dreamed of, to be swept into John's arms, to be kissed and loved by him with all the passion in his soul, a passion he took such great care to hide.
But he wasn't hiding it now.
Nor was he being coy and giving her a mere peek at another layer. No, he had opened himself wide and was baring his heart and soul to her. She could respond with no less. No hiding any of herself to him. She would allow this kiss to lead wherever it may, for she'd wanted him so badly all these years, never understanding why her body cried out for him.
Only him.
She ached for his touch.
Needed his touch.
Needed his heart.
And yet, she'd almost settled for something less.
John gave a sexy growl as he deepened the kiss, taking possession of her mouth and demanding no less than possession of her soul in return. There was an animal intensity to the press of his lips on hers, to his sensual touch, a feral power that surrounded her and carried her in its forceful grip.
She wanted to release the gown she'd been clutching, for she wanted nothing between them now. But John would not allow the cool silk to slide down her body and pool at her feet. Even as his kiss turned wilder, hotter, he refused to lose control. He refused to take more than this splendid kiss from her.
She felt his building passion, felt the heat flowing through him just as it was flowing through her, felt the coiled tension in his muscles. Yet he took care to be exquisitely gentle with her. She knew he would never hurt her. This was John, a man always struggling to control his raw desire, for he was as much a protector as he was a hunter, and protecting her mattered more to him than anything else.
She mattered to him.
She had her answer.
Thank goodness, she mattered.
But she sensed that it would break his heart if he were forced to admit it to her.
She ran her hands along the muscled length of his arms and then circled them around his neck to draw him closer. It felt important to hold onto him, somehow to make him understand that this was right, that she would never betray his heart if he allowed her in.
She doubted this first kiss was enough to convince him.
There would be others, she hoped. For now, she would take all that he was willing to give and simply enjoy the moment. How could she not enjoy? Mother in heaven! The man was built of granite. All of him, from his massive shoulders anchored to muscled arms and broad chest. His taut, lean waist and powerful legs.
But it wasn't merely his physical beauty that attracted her. John was so much more than a handsome facade. He was a man of valor. All those he protected slept peacefully because he watched over them. It was no coincidence that he'd thought to name his stallion Valor.
To be noble. To honor and protect. This was John, the valiant knight who'd give his life for right and justice.
She pressed against him to soak in the heat of his body and reveled in the touch of his rugged hands as he ran them across her back and then brought one forward to cup her breast. Fire exploded within her, a hot burst of molten desire that flowed like lava through her body.
He wasn't gentle, but neither was he hurting her. He could never hurt her, even though he was unleashing his pent-up desire and perhaps a little anger that she'd pushed him into revealing more of himself than he'd ever intended. Anger aimed at himself and not at her.
He drew his mouth from hers and began to kiss his way down her body, suckling the wildly beating pulse at the base of her throat.
Starlight exploded before Nicola's very eyes. "John, oh … "
But the soft release of his name suddenly brought him to his senses. He groaned and shook his head as though wanting to take back what had just happened. "This cannot be. Nicola, I'm sorry. This cannot be."
"But it was. It did happen. I'm not at all sorry." She placed her hand against his cheek, fully aware that she stood beside him with her gown about to slip off her body and leave her bare. It would have slipped off by now if not for the strength and tenderness of his arms that were still wrapped around her. "You said I'd know it when you kissed me. You certainly proved that true. It's all right, John. I'm not asking for more than you are ready to give me."
He kissed her palm with the same fierce gentleness as their first kiss. "That's the problem. I can't give you more. Not now. Not yet."
She nodded. "But you will in time."
"I don't know, Nicola. Perhaps not ever."
She refused to believe him. He'd just given his heart to her with that kiss. Reluctantly, to be certain. However, to force him to acknowledge what he'd done seemed wrong when he was so obviously tortured by what he perceived as weakness in himself.
He kissed her on the forehead. "You must be cold. Let's get you dressed."
He turned away, his gaze now fixed on the ladder stairs as though they held endless fascination. Sighing, she slipped out of her delicate gown and quickly folded it before placing it carefully beside the package containing her new purchases. She donned her new linen undergarments, and then the woolen gown and stockings. The gown had been boiled in a plain, brown dye, but when John turned back to help her lace it up, one would think it had been a shimmering, gossamer fairy gown, for his eyes lit up.
He almost smiled, but stopped himself in time. "It fits."
Nicola struggled to hold back tears. She'd loved this man all her life. Yet, until this very moment, she'd had no idea he reciprocated the feeling. He'd never let on, always guarded himself. Even now, instead of feeling happy about the kiss they'd shared, she could see that he was angry and frustrated with himself. He considered their kiss a sign of his weakness.
Would he ever accept that love was the answer to his torment? Could he kiss her like that and not love her? He'd said he was nothing like Somersby. In her heart, she knew that he wasn't. But neither was he ready to declare his feelings for her.
She held her breath as he leaned close, his hands lightly grazing her body while he tied the row of laces that she could not reach herself. "John … "
"Don't ask me about the kiss, Nicola."
"Why not? Am I supposed to pretend it meant nothing to either of us?"
"It was an unfortunate mistake."
"No, it wasn't. Don't you dare make less of it."
"Then I won't. But don't you dare believe it changes anything."
It had changed everything, but she wasn't going to argue with him while they were running for their lives. "I think I'll brush out my hair and knot it into a braid," she said, licking her lips and trying to keep her heart from breaking.
She sighed as his warm breath tickled her ear. His taste was now on her lips, the masculine warmth of his mouth mingled with the bread and ale he'd washed down earlier with his soup. The taste of him lingered and made her hungry for more of him.
He was no longer inclined to talk, so she kept up her own chatter because she'd cry otherwise. The kiss they'd shared was not a mere "anything." He'd opened his heart to her and if that was not a sign of love from this man, she did not know what was. He obviously hated himself for his moment of weakness and was now fortifying his barriers against her. "Um, the wind is strong on the water and nothing else will hold my hair in place but a braid."
"That's a sensible idea." He drew away and rifled through their packages until he found the new comb and ribbons.
She took the comb and chose a ribbon of forest green velvet that would not clash with the color of her hair or gown. To her surprise, he turned away and fixed his gaze once more on the stairs. "John," she said, not bothering to hide her irritation. He wanted to forget the kiss ever happened. She wanted to remember it forever. "I'm fully dressed. Why the sudden need for propriety?"