No Desire Denied Page 13

  With Nell he hadn’t had a choice. She’d cast a spell on him from the moment that he’d opened the door to her room and seen her standing there in those scraps of black lace. He’d literally ached for her, and that had stunned him as nothing else ever had.

  People were only turned to stone in legends and myths—or in the Bible. That kind of thing didn’t happen in real life. And certainly not to him.

  Until that moment she’d opened the connecting door. Since then, he hadn’t been able to move or think or say anything but her name since. He couldn’t seem to talk at all now. Nor could he stop her when she rose and pushed him back on the bed.

  Everything about her bewitched him. As she climbed onto the mattress and straddled him, he wanted to reach for her, but the weakness in his limbs persisted. She’d trapped him in a world of pleasure, a world where her goal seemed to be to fulfill every desire he’d ever had. All he could see was her face above him. The play of moonlight in her hair shifted the color from pale gold to silver. When her mouth hovered over his, when their breaths mingled, he said, “I want you, Nell.”

  “Soon.” Her lips brushed his, then she linked their fingers and pressed his hands into the mattress. “You should relax. I’m just getting started.”

  “Kiss me.”

  “My pleasure.” She was careful to avoid his mouth, nipping his chin instead. As she took her lips on a slow journey along his jaw, down his throat and across his shoulder, she absorbed the sound of his ragged breathing. She lingered at the bandage, kissing it softly.

  “I’ve fantasized so often about tasting you.” Inch by inch, she moved her mouth down his chest, licking here, nipping there. “So many flavors.” She took his nipple into her mouth and suckled. Then, shifting her body downward, she delighted in the rich dark taste beneath his pecs and in the rapid beating of his heart against her lips.

  Even in her wildest fantasies she hadn’t anticipated the thrill she experienced when the hairs on his chest brushed against her own nipples or the excitement when his fingers went lax in hers. Lost in him now, she moved lower, exploring his body with her mouth alone.

  When she slid her tongue into his navel, his fingers gripped hers hard. “Nell...”

  She raised her head, met his eyes and what she saw ignited a flame that threatened to melt her. She tried to refocus on her plan. “I’m still just getting started. I poured some champagne, and I have so many ideas.”

  As she wiggled up his body and lifted the glass from a bedside table, a shock wave of heat melted his bones, his will. Through a haze of desire, he watched her dip her fingers into the flute. When the cold drops hit his face, his lips, his neck, they sent a blast of fire right to his core. Even though his hands were free now, he couldn’t seem to lift them, didn’t want to.

  She leaned down and began to lick at his lips. “Mmm. You taste even better mixed with champagne.” She traced her tongue over his mouth. “Delicious.”

  Then she sprinkled his chest with champagne and took her mouth on the same journey as before. Reid found himself totally trapped in a world of ice and fire. Tremors danced along his skin. A searing heat shot through his body. The sounds of pleasure she made as she used her mouth on him vibrated through his system and smoked through his brain.

  She was devouring him as if he were some rare treat that she’d waited all her life to sample. Just as he’d waited all his life for her.

  He had to have more. Gripping her shoulders, he drew her up so that she met his eyes.

  “I have more ideas,” she said with a smile.

  “So do I,” he said as he hooked an arm around her and shifted her beneath him on the mattress. “Let me show you.”

  His intention had been to go slowly, to mimic the method she’d used on him. But the instant he pressed his mouth to hers, he felt his control stretch to the breaking point. At the first possessive sweep of his hands, her response tore through him. She arched against him, demanding more, as if there were something he was holding back. He wasn’t. He couldn’t.

  They rolled across the bed as if they were combatants instead of lovers. As soon as he could, Reid tore at the silk that still covered her breast, then used his mouth on the skin he exposed inch by inch by inch. Any thought he might have had of savoring the rich, ripe taste of her skin vanished in a savage attack of hunger.

  More.

  He wasn’t sure who said the word or if he’d only thought it. But everywhere he touched, everywhere he tasted, she showed him more, enchanting him all over again. Her scent was lightest at her wrist, heavier at her throat and addicting beneath her breast. She was generous beyond any man’s fantasy. But each sigh, each shiver, each scrape of her nails or nip of her teeth left him wanting more. And more.

  So he took. And took. Though he had no idea how, they were now in his bedroom, on the floor in a pool of moonlight when she finally rose above him. She filled his vision. Her skin was sheened with moisture, her eyes filled with his reflection. He tried to say her name, but the air burned so fiercely in his lungs that it came out on a gasp. Guiding her hips, he plunged into her, felt her close around him, and once more he felt as if she’d turned him to stone.

  He wanted more than anything to hold on to the moment—to make time spin out. To hold them both there on that delicious, dangerous edge where she belonged only to him.

  She moved first, arching on top of him, and he watched her eyes as her pleasure built and peaked. Even as her climax abated, he held himself still, determined to extend the moment when she thought only of him. Then her eyes cleared, and she began to move again. “More.”

  His control snapped as did any grasp he had on civilized matters. Mine. It was the only word he could think of as he thrust into her again and again. But as pleasure exploded and sent them both shooting over the edge, he poured more and more of himself into her. The last word he thought of was hers.

  * * *

  NELL MOVED IN a dream world where mists swirled, thickening in some places, thinning in others. She tried to wake up, but couldn’t seem to break free. Her limbs felt heavy as if she were walking through water. The strange sensation should have frightened her, but all she felt was a burning curiosity. She searched for some sign of where she was.

  Nothing.

  With her vision totally impaired, she concentrated on her other senses. She smelled wood burning, heard it snap and crackle, and there was music—a tune she didn’t recognize from an instrument she thought she did.

  Bagpipes?

  As the sound grew stronger, the mist thinned enough for her to make out the silhouette of a couple dancing. Over their heads, candles flickered in crystal chandeliers. At the far end of the room, a fire roared in a huge hearth. There were other people in the room, but they stood in the shadows watching and whispering as the man and woman turned this way and that, moving gracefully to the music.

  It was like a fairy tale, Nell thought. She might have been witnessing Prince Charming and Cinderella dancing at the ball—a Disney movie come to life. Except the woman was familiar.

  Though she could only see her back, Nell was certain she’d seen her before. Her frame was slender. Blond hair tumbled in loose curls below her shoulders. When her partner turned her, candles struck brilliance into the sapphires that dangled from her ears and nestled at her throat, and recognition had Nell’s heart taking a leap.

  Eleanor.

  She was younger than the woman in the portrait and even more beautiful. When the music had the couple turning again, Nell caught a quick glimpse of the man’s face. He was much taller than Eleanor, his hair dark, his features handsome. He turned again, giving Nell a second look.

  Not Angus. He bore no resemblance to the likenesses that remained of her several-times-great-grandfather. Still, he too was familiar. Nell was certain she knew him.

  She had to get a better look, but before she could move, the mists descended, blanketing the scene in front of her with the finality of a curtain falling on the final act. The air chilled. Gone was the sce
nt of burning wood and the music. She smelled jasmine and roses now, and the only sound piercing the silence came from a breeze rushing through the trees.

  Nell felt a surge of urgency as she pushed her way forward. There was something more she had to see. She was sure of it. When the mist finally abated, she recognized the stone arch immediately. Beneath it stood a couple. The man’s back was to her, but Eleanor was bathed in moonlight. She wore the same white dress she’d danced in, and the sapphires gleamed bright at her throat and ears. But her expression was troubled. Then the man lifted her off her feet, pressed her close and kissed her.

  Eleanor kissed him back, wrapping her arms around him and holding on for dear life. Though she hadn’t been aware of moving, Nell realized that she was closer now. The couple stood in profile, and Nell saw that the man kissing Eleanor was Angus and not the man she’d been dancing with. But even as the certainty of that flashed through her, the mists swirled in, thick and gray.

  This time when they cleared, her vision remained blurred. The image in front of her took form slowly, one detail at a time. She was still standing in front of the stone arch. And there was still a couple beneath it. But it wasn’t Angus and Eleanor who stood so close they might have been one.

  The man was Reid. And she was the woman he was kissing. She knew because she felt the searing brand of his mouth pressed to hers, and she felt her own response break free and wild. She tightened her grip on him and let the mists sweep them away.

  12

  THE EASTERN SKY was barely pink with the promise of the sun when Skinner had pulled into the driveway just as he and Daryl had stepped into the clearing in front of the stone arch. Reid had filled them in on what Cam and Adair had discovered in Scotland. Reid split up from Sheriff Skinner and Daryl to begin searching for the bullet that had grazed his shoulder the night before.

  When they’d left the castle, Vi had been in the kitchen making scones, and even though he knew the two women were perfectly safe, he’d asked Vi to take Alba up to Nell’s room to guard her.

  Better to be doubly safe than sorry. Better still to find something that might identify the shooter who’d aimed a bullet at him. The hills on this side of the castle kept the area around the stone arch blanketed in shadows, adding an extra challenge to the job. Moments earlier Daryl had suggested they divide the area into three concentric half circles.

  Chances were good that the bullet had ricocheted off the stones, so Skinner was looking in the outermost half circle, ten yards out; Daryl was examining every inch of the middle one, five yards out; and then Reid was searching the area closest to the arch itself. If they didn’t find it, they’d widen the search area.

  He ran his hand over the stones at eye level where he estimated he and Nell had been standing the night before, and he felt his fingers brush against the coolness of steel. Stepping back, he took out his penknife and used the flashlight at the end of it. The glint of metal was unmistakable. Seconds later, he’d managed to free it from the rocks. Keeping his voice stage-whisper low, he said, “I’ve got it.”

  Daryl reached him with Skinner two steps behind. Reid passed the bullet to Daryl first. For a few moments, there were only the sounds of the gentle lapping of the water in the distance and the chirping of morning birds.

  “Nothing I recognize on sight,” Daryl said. “That pretty much eliminates most of what the military is using as well as what the pros are favoring. My office can get a lab in Albany to take a look at it, but that will take time. Overnighting it to my office in D.C. might get us quicker results.”

  But not quick enough. Reid heard the clock ticking in his head. The sound had been there since he’d awakened, beating in rhythm to the pumping of his blood.

  “Benjy Grimshaw might be able to help us out,” Sheriff Skinner said. “He’s the father of the bride, and he manages the sporting goods department at our general store. Guns have always been his hobby. His grandson helps him with his blog, and a lot of collectors visit his site.”

  Reid met Daryl’s gaze. “We might as well have him take a look before we send it anywhere.”

  When Daryl handed him the bullet, Skinner said, “If my men find a casing up there in the hills, I’ll send that along to Benjy, too.”

  “If you’ve got a minute, I’d like to run over the schedule for the wedding rehearsal with you,” Daryl said. “When Reid and I left the kitchen, Vi was putting a tray of scones into the oven.”

  Skinner’s smile spread slowly. “You’ve just successfully bribed an officer of the law.”

  “Save one for me,” Reid said. “I’m going to take a short detour over to the old gazebo. Nell’s going to want to pay it a visit, and I need to check out what I’m up against in terms of security.”

  Daryl stopped and looked at Reid. “You should be safe enough right now with the sheriff’s volunteers up in the hills. But no promises on the scones.”

  “I’ll have to rely on my prodigal son status.” Reid shot Daryl a smile before he veered off on a path that led deeper into the gardens. He wanted to visit the gazebo alone, and Daryl had been astute enough to realize that. Cam was a lucky man to have Daryl for a boss. Reid hoped he’d be half as lucky finding the ruins of the old gazebo. He’d been ten the last time he was there.

  The hedges lining the path rose high enough in places to mimic a maze, preventing him from having a clear view of where he was going. And providing too damn many places to hide. Relying on instinct, Reid angled his way to the left of the stone arch and closer to the lake.

  He’d told Daryl the truth. He did need to check out any security problems. But that wasn’t the only reason he wanted some time by himself. If he went back to the castle right now, he wasn’t sure Vi’s scones could prevent him from going back to Nell.

  When he’d awakened, her head had been tucked in the crook of his shoulder, and he hadn’t been able to take his eyes off her. In the thin rays of morning light slipping through the drapes of his bedroom, she’d looked outrageously beautiful. The pale gold hair and porcelain skin made her appear fragile and delicate. But he’d learned her strength, experienced the passion of those frantic hands, those wild lips. During the night, she’d seduced him the way any man dreamed of being seduced, and layer by layer she’d stripped him of any claim he had on sanity. More, she’d unlocked a place inside him that he hadn’t even known was there, and for a moment he’d glimpsed what his life might be like if he could wake every morning with his arms wrapped around her.

  It was fear that had galvanized him enough to get out of bed. But he wasn’t sure what he was more afraid of—the new desire he’d discovered in himself or the possibility of it being denied?

  And what did Nell want?

  What she’d told him or something else?

  And where were the ruins of the old gazebo? He was certain he’d gone too far and was about to retrace his steps, when he spotted the rubble through a narrow break in the hedge. At first glance, the area looked as though it had been abandoned for a long time. Flowers grew everywhere, poking through rocks and at times totally obscuring what appeared to be a low circular wall of stones. The circle was uneven, and there were breaks where it totally disappeared. But Reid knew that, with a little digging, he would find stones beneath the earth that had covered them over time.

  When he’d completed a walk around the perimeter, he was sure of three things. Though there were many more flowers than he recalled, this was the place that Nell had brought him on that long-ago summer day. He could even identify the exact spot where she’d invited him to sit and drink tea.

  There was no sign left of the wooden latticework or even what had been the floor of the structure. But Reid would have staked money on A.D.’s theory that this was where the gazebo in the portrait had once stood.

  Allowing Nell to linger here for any length of time would be dangerous. He swept his gaze along the top of the hedge. Anyone approaching would be totally blocked from view, and there were areas where someone could see in, just as he had. A he
dge would provide no protection from a bullet.

  Reid ignored the icy fear that slithered up his spine. He needed a cool head. His best option would be to refuse to let her come here. Since that had no chance in hell of flying, he’d have to go with option two. Minimize the risk, and that always had to do with timing. Three years of heading up security for a vice president who disliked playing it safe was going to come in handy again. The trick would be to bring her here when the visitors to the castle were at a minimum, and to get her in and out as quickly as possible.

  Quickly reviewing the schedule in his head, Reid calculated that perfect window of opportunity for Nell’s visit to the old gazebo would be while the reporter from the Times was interviewing and shadowing Vi. James Orbison was scheduled to arrive in less than two hours. That meant Nell could sleep for a while longer. Then Daryl could keep his eyes on the writer and Vi, while Reid and Nell tried to uncover what Eleanor wanted them to see in the place she’d chosen for her portrait.

  He swept his gaze around the area again.

  Carefully making his way into the center of the circle, he wished for a step stool. The hedges surrounding the area were high enough to block any view he might have of the stone arch. He figured the floor of the gazebo would have been level with the top of his thigh, the bench Eleanor was sitting on even higher. From that vantage point, the stone arch would have been clearly visible to anyone in the gazebo. And so would the south facade of the castle and the cliffs beyond.

  It should take about fifteen seconds for Nell to figure that out. But he knew her well enough now that she’d want to linger a bit longer. In fact...chances were good that this had been the destination she’d had in mind last night. The gardens. She’d wanted to seduce him right here.

  Was that all she wanted? Just a few days of indulgence—and then they’d go on their separate ways? That’s what she’d said, and the words had perfectly matched his own desires. Or so he’d thought.