Earl of Hearts(14)

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?"