Earl of Hearts(28)

Fight.

Fight for your life.

But his mother had merely buried her face in her hands and cried. She'd  died quickly, putting up no resistance. John remembered the beast's  hideous laughter filling the room as he'd then turned to John. He was  waving a long, bloodied knife in front of him, his voice cruel when he  spoke. You'll be next, you filthy English spawn.

He was little and quick, managing to slip between the beast's legs and  escape out a window. The window had shattered atop him as the beast and  his men fired shots at him. He'd run for his life, paying no heed to the  shards of glass embedded in his skin. A hot, metallic ball tore through  the fleshy part of his arm.

You won't ever catch me.

He'd ignored his wounds and crawled to his hiding spot in an ancient  cistern that stood beside the ambassador's house. Only then did he give  in to the pain and cry.

"John, please." He recognized Nicola's voice and felt her hands on his shoulders, gently shaking him.

He rolled onto his back, his forehead dripping with sweat and his heart  pounding a hole in his chest. "Hell, sorry." He took her soft hands in  one of his. "Did I hurt you?"

He worried that he'd lashed out and accidentally struck her. "No, John.  But your body tensed and then you suddenly jerked and cried out. Are you  all right?" She put her ear to his chest and hugged him. "Your heart's  beating so fast."

He wrapped his arms around her and held her close. The softness of her  body and the lavender scent of her skin now filled his senses with an  overwhelming yearning. "I …  it'll calm down." He didn't know what else to  say. "Go back to sleep, Nicola. It's hours yet before dawn."

"Does this nightmare haunt you every night?"

He groaned softly. This was Nicola. Of course, she was not going to let the matter drop. "It doesn't matter."

"Of course, it does." She ran her hand across his shoulder. "Your skin is damp. I can see beads of sweat on your forehead."

He closed his eyes a moment and swallowed hard. "I'm not talking about it."

She sighed. "Not now, anyway."

"Not ever." Although his eyes were still closed, he felt her defiant scowl upon him. "I mean it, Nicola. Not. Ever."

She said nothing, merely curled against him, one arm across his chest  and her head nestled against his shoulder. He knew that she was not  going to give up until she had her answers, for that was Nicola's way.  It was part of what he found irritating about her and what he also loved  most about her. She fought for those she loved. She did not shrink back  in fear. "Please let me in, John. I'll never hurt you."

"I know, brat." He ran his fingers through the silken waves of her  unbound hair. Let her in? She was so deeply in his heart it scared him,  and he was scared of nothing.

Perhaps not nothing.

He was scared of needing her.

He was scared of losing her.

He was scared of losing his whole heart to her.





CHAPTER 12





NICOLA AWOKE SHORTLY before dawn, but dared not stir while still in  John's arms. His muscled strength surrounded her in a delicious blanket  of heat. His skin was warm despite the fire dying out in the hearth.  While she needed to wrap herself against him to ward off the morning  chill, he seemed unaffected by it. "John, are you awake?" she asked in a  whisper.         

     



 

She stifled her disappointment when he did not respond. In truth, she  was also disappointed in not experiencing the pleasures of the marriage  bed. She'd wanted her night of passion, but would never mention it to  John. He had spent the night battling his inner demons and did not need  her piling on more worries.

What had tormented him so badly last night?

For his sake, she needed to find out. What he'd experienced was no mere  bad dream. This was a night terror that gripped him often. Ever since he  was a boy? She knew he was an orphan raised by his aunt and uncle, the  then Earl of Bainbridge. John had assumed the title upon the older man's  death.

That was all she knew about his past.

How did he come to be an orphan? He had to confide in her, not to  satisfy her curiosity, but to heal his pain. If he ever hoped to find  happiness-and John clearly was not a happy man-he needed to share the  overwhelming burden he carried in his heart before it consumed him. It  mattered not that he was now a wealthy earl. This had nothing to do with  wealth or title. It had everything to do with power, a dark and  controlling one that had him caught like a fish on a hook.

It also had to do with his lack of power at one time, for it was his  sense of helplessness that brought on those nightly terrors. From the  few words he'd spoken, she gathered that his parents had died violent  deaths and he'd been unable to save them. But he'd been a mere child  when they'd died. He couldn't possibly have had the strength to save  them at so young an age.

But this was John.

A man with an ingrained need to protect those he loved.

He had been born a fighter. His need to fight and protect explained why  he was always wary and on the alert. He needed to save the royal family.  He needed to save her. It wasn't merely a matter of duty. It was who he  was.

Hunter. Predator. Protector.

Why hadn't her brother ever mentioned John's past to her? Did Julian  even know? Or had John managed to hide his pain from everyone?

The scars she'd seen on his back were old, perhaps from childhood.

He must have carried this torment all his life and it had shaped him  into the man he was today, one of the top agents of the Crown. He was  also a man who hid his feelings, who allowed no one close to him. But  she was in his bed now and had no intention of ever sleeping apart from  him again.

"Nicola, stop wriggling."

"I'm sorry. Did I wake you?" She propped on one elbow for a better look  at him. Oh, he looked so handsome even with the light stubble of a beard  and the sleepy look in his eyes. Those entrancing gray-green orbs were  now open and staring back at her.

He laughed softly and reached out to brush back a wayward curl on her forehead. "No. We have to get up soon anyway."

She nodded and collapsed back onto her pillow with a groan. "Is it awful for me to wish for more time here?"

He placed his hands behind his head and stared up at the ceiling. "Not at all."

"Our time here was a little moment of heaven, wasn't it?"

He frowned lightly, still looking upward and not at her. "Not quite heaven. I must have tossed and turned most of the night."

She sighed. "I was worried about you, John."

"I know. This is what my nights are, Nicola. I don't sleep well, as  you've now found out. You'll have your separate quarters once we're back  in London and Somersby is dealt with."

"Why would I want separate quarters? I don't ever wish to sleep apart from you."

He turned to look at her askance. "I kept you up most of the night."

"John, sleeping next to you is wonderful. You held me in your arms."

"When I wasn't thrashing about," he said, sounding disgusted with himself.

"I think that will subside in time. You'll grow used to having me next  to you in your bed. Hopefully, you'll feel comforted by it." He frowned  at first, but after a moment, his lips turned upward in a devastatingly  appealing smile. It emboldened her. "Perhaps tonight you'll keep me up  under more pleasant circumstances. You still owe me a night of …  you  know."

He laughed softly. "Frenzied mating? It doesn't have to happen only at night. Coupling can occur at any time of the day."

"Such as early morning?" She sighed when he failed to respond to her  obvious proposition. "I suppose that means ‘no.' Very well, if I'm not  to experience passionate pleasure, I may as well fall back to sleep. But  I want you to know that I am quite well rested and don't need to fall  back to-"

He rolled her under him in one swift motion. "Nicola, stop talking.  Lord, you're a brat." Then his mouth descended on hers with unexpected  ardor, his lips warm and gentle as they pressed against her own. She  felt the exquisite weight of his muscled body atop her, although he was  careful to prop himself on his elbows so as not to bring his full heft  down on her.         

     



 

Not that she would have minded.

She loved his size and brawn. Their intimacy felt divine. "John, make me yours forever. I want to be your wife in every sense."

He kissed her again, this time plundering her mouth with a possessive  hunger, and at the same time, his hands worked to strip her out of her  robe. She wore nothing now, hid nothing from his view.

He eased back and lifted his head to look at her. "Nicola, you're  beautiful." His voice was raw and his smile devastatingly tender.

He kissed her again, the press of his mouth upon hers now feeling more  urgent. She was feeling a similar urgency and ran her hands along his  golden skin, slid them over his taut, muscled body.

Her heart began to race, not only out of desire-blessed saints, she felt  so much love for this man-but also out of uncertainty. What was she  supposed to do?