Heart of Iron (35 page)

A gasp.

A body wriggling weakly, skin slick with sweat, in his arms.

Opening grainy eyes, he stared in disbelief as Lena whimpered and tried to push him away.

“Hot,” she rasped. Her pupils were enormous still, her gaze unfocused.

Will sat up abruptly and she tumbled onto her back, barely able to move. “Lena?”

Dry, cracked lips, her cheeks flushed with red. She’d never been so beautiful. Shoving aside the blankets, she tried to move and sprawled onto the mattress face-first.

Grabbing the blanket, he draped her in it and tried to help her sit up. “Lena?” Grabbing her chin, he held her eyelid up. A ring of bright copper circled her pupils. Incredulous breath expanded his lungs. “You survived.” Her forehead was clammy with sweat as he cupped his palm against it, but the intense heat had abated. “The fever’s broken.”

She pushed at him weakly.

Plumping the pillows under her back, he eased her back against them. “I’ll get you some water. Stay here. Don’t move.” He couldn’t stop himself from capturing her face in his hands. She was barely lucid, but the fever had broken. “I love you.” He kissed her hard, then drew back when she tried to whimper again. “I’ll bring you lots of water.”

***

Honoria paced the kitchen, her cheeks scalded with tears and her eyes dry. There was nothing left in her. She’d done all she could and still failed.

Blade dragged her back into his arms. “There’s still ’ope. She ain’t done in yet or we’d know.”

“I feel ill.” She pushed him away and leaned against the bench as a fist of nausea threatened to choke her.

She could sense Blade hovering over her, trying to get her to drink a glass of water. He suddenly looked up and she spun toward the door. “What is it?”

The pair of Norwegians waited in the corner, faces tight with strain. She knew as soon as she looked at them that it was Will coming down the stairs.

“Oh, God,” she whispered, her knees going out from under her.

Blade caught her, drawing her up so that she was standing when Will came through the door.

Sweat gleamed over his naked body. Wild eyes, wild hair, his muscles burnished with heat. Honoria’s jaw dropped and she looked away as he snatched the jug of water off the bench.

“She’s thirsty,” Will growled, then turned and vanished the way he’d come.

“Thirsty?” Honoria whispered. She spun toward Astrid. “Does that mean…?”

Astrid’s eyes were wide. “Goodness,” she murmured. “What a shame he’s already bound to her…”

Eric punched her lightly in the arm and grinned. “Put your eyes back in your head, cousin.” He stood and clapped Blade on the back. “If she is thirsty, then all is well. The fever must have broken.”

Honoria turned toward the door, but Eric caught her wrist and shook his head. “No,” he said. “We must trust that he will care for her. Leave them alone or risk having your head handed to you.”

Seeing her expression, Astrid smiled. “He is acting
inn
matki
munr
. Like a newly mated male. He’ll be insufferable for days, especially given that he nearly lost her. Leave them alone and give him time to calm down.”

Twenty-four

Sunlight shimmered through gauzy lace curtains.

Lena moaned under her breath and tried to cover her eyes. Then she blinked. This wasn’t her room. Where was she?

Sitting up sent a shaft of throbbing pain through the base of her skull. Wincing, she cracked her eyelids open and looked around.

Bare timber floor. Rough hewn furniture. A table in the corner with a single chair seated by it. And a pair of boots, attached to long muscular legs.

Will.

She was at Will’s flat.

Sunlight caught the coppery tips of his hair and burnished his tanned skin. He dozed, propped up in an old armchair, his arms crossed over his chest and his head nodding forward. Dark circles shadowed his eyes and his jaw bore the signs of several days’ rough growth.

The last time she’d seen him he’d been frantic; tucking her into his own cot, muttering that she was safe, that she would be all right now. Telling her again and again that he was sorry.

Lena frowned. When had that happened? She had a vague flashing memory of pain and heat, and then screaming as someone dropped her into what felt like a vat of burning oil. Honoria peering at her worriedly as she tried to give her water. Will snapping at Honoria, driving her from the room as he dragged Lena out of bed and brought her here.

What the devil had happened?

Tossing aside the blankets, she tried to stand up. The world spun and she staggered into the stove, her nightgown tumbling around her ankles. The faint odor of lavender clung to her. Not her usual soap. Someone must have been bathing her.

Will blinked sleepily. “Lena?” He leaped to his feet and caught her, as if she were too fragile to even stand. “What are you doin’ out of bed?”

The heat of his body was a welcome sensation. She burrowed her face against his chest and breathed deep. His scent was so familiar, so warm and masculine, but beneath that she caught myriad scents. Starched linen, soap, sweat, a hint of her sister’s perfume, even the oil he used to clean the heavy hunting knife he wore strapped to his thigh.

How curious.

“Can you shut the curtains?” she asked. “It’s so bright.”

His scent changed, became somehow sharper. “It’s your eyes. They’ll adjust, but it’ll take a few days.”

“Adjust to what?”

Another pause. His scent became even bitterer. “Lena.” He cleared his throat. “Do you remember aught of what happened?”

The seriousness in his face and tone sobered her. She fought for recollection and failed. “What’s wrong? What happened? Is everyone all right?”

“How do you feel?”

An odd question. She considered her body. Now that she was on her feet she felt better, an incredible lightness of being that she couldn’t quite explain. “Very thirsty?” And another pressing need she didn’t want to admit. Heat flushed through her cheeks. “Do you think I could…use your washroom?”

Will stared at her for a long moment, coppery rings burning around his pupils. He gave a short nod. “O’ course.”

Herding her to the washroom as if she were an invalid, he started to follow her inside.

“Will!” She tried to shut the door in his face. “What are you doing?”

“Lookin’ after you.”

“Not in here,” she replied firmly. “Out!”

It took a moment, but his lips thinned and he turned on his heel. “I’ll fetch you some water to wash with.”

He brought water, soap, and a small towel. As soon as he shut the door, she turned to the unmentionable. Perhaps she had been hasty. By the time she washed her hands in the jug of water on his washstand, her knees were shaking. And the water looked damned good. She was half tempted to drink it straight from his shaving jug but forced herself to merely rinse her mouth and scrub her teeth. Using his washrag, she stripped her nightgown off then washed herself with the cloth and soap. Lavender scent assailed her. He’d definitely been bathing her.

Tugging her nightgown over her head, she ignored her discarded drawers. She wanted clean clothes, something to drink, and a good hot meal.

“Will?” She twisted the knob, but the door sprang open in her grip. Will hovered on the other side with a glass of water for her.

Now that she’d taken care of one need, others were begging for attention. Her gaze went straight past him, to the icebox, just as her stomach gave an embarrassing growl. She took the glass and gulped it down.

“I’ve mutton stew,” he said. “And bread and cheese. It ain’t much, but there’s lots of it. I had ’em send round as much as Esme could bake.”

Stew. Her mouth watered. But there were other more pressing concerns. “Will, why am I here? What’s been happening? I can hardly remember the last day.”

“It’s been four actually.”

“
What?
”

Raking a hand through his hair, he turned away from her. “Here. I’ll show you.” Snatching the small bone-handled mirror off his washstand, he held it close, as if he didn’t want her to see.

Sudden dread filled her. What was wrong with her? Her hands flew to her cheeks, but her skin felt normal. Snatching the mirror, she bought it up and stared at her reflection.

“My eyes,” she whispered. They stared back at her, the pupils ringed with bright bands of copper. Slowly she lowered the mirror. “But how…? What…?”

Will couldn’t meet her gaze. “God, I’m so sorry. I told you I ought never have come near you.” He looked up, heat and anger swirling through his eyes. “This is why. I nearly lost you. I nearly killed you!”

He turned on his heel and strode away, hands entwined behind his head. Lena risked another quick glance in the mirror. “I have the loupe?” she asked wonderingly.

He flinched as if she’d hit him.

“Will.” Putting the mirror aside, she crossed toward him, but he jerked away, circling the table and chair as if she were hunting him. Taking a slow breath, she put her hands on the back of the chair and leaned on it. “I don’t care. I told you I wouldn’t mind. If I could be with you—”

“You nearly died!” he snapped, eyes rolling with white.

And she realized then just how close it must have been. His hands clenched and he looked away, tearing his gaze from hers.

“How bad was it?”

“We didn’t think you were goin’ to make it,” he replied hoarsely. “I thought you were dyin’, before the fever broke. You don’t know what it did to me.” He rubbed his chest. “I went a little insane. I threw Blade across the room and brought you here. Honoria comes by every day but I couldn’t let her… Not ’til you woke…”

Her heart ached for the pain emblazoned on his face. “I survived.”

“Barely.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

His fists clenched and he turned his face away. “Yes, it does. You don’t know what this means.”

“What this means?” She shoved the chair out of the way. Then the table. It was ridiculously easy. “Is that you don’t have any more excuses.”

Will backed up against the cot, his hands held in front of him. “Damn it, Lena,” he growled. “I infected you! Your life ain’t gonna be the same.”

She stalked him. “I certainly hope not.”

“You don’t understand—”

“I understand perfectly.” Stopping in front of him, she pushed on his chest and he stumbled back onto the cot, a look of surprise on his face.

Staring at her hands in wonder, she couldn’t stop her smile. “How strong do you think I am now?”

“Why?”

“No reason.”
I
wonder
if
I
could
dangle
a
certain
blue
blood
off
the
edge
of
the
Ivory
Tower?

The world had become a different place, full of blazing color, heat, and scents. Dust motes swirled through the shaft of light that lit them. She held her hands up, stirring them about. All her life she felt as though she’d been blind, with the details of the world around her only newly revealed.

“You see this as a curse,” she said, sliding onto his lap. The muscles in his thighs tensed. “I don’t. I know there shall be limitations. I know my time in the Echelon is done—it was done the moment you carried me out of that ballroom.” Seeing his mouth open, she pressed her finger against his lips. “I’ve been afraid for a very long time, Will. I’m not afraid now. Not even a little. Is that part of it?”

His gaze locked on hers. Mutiny burned there. He didn’t believe her.

“There’s nothing about my old life that I want to go back to,” she whispered, sliding her leg up to straddle his hips. The nightgown slid up around her thighs, and he sucked in a sharp breath, his fingers clenching in the blankets. Lena rocked against his hips, the rasp of the buttons on his trousers riding over her inner thigh.

“I want a new life,” she told him. “With you. I know that now.” Sliding her hands over his shoulders, she leaned closer, breathing in his delicious musky scent. “I finally know what I want. And I’m not afraid to admit it anymore.”

“Lena.” His hand curled against her bottom, as if in warning. “You’re verwulfen now. A slave in the Echelon’s eyes. You might never be able to leave the ’Chapel again.”

“Who says I need to?” She brushed her mouth against his. “Who says I ever need to leave this bed?”

Another gasped breath. But his eyes were burning now, turning hot with a flood of amber color.

“You’re mine, Will.” A smile of victory curled over her lips as soon as she saw the change. “You can’t hurt me anymore. You don’t have any more excuses. You can hate yourself all you want, but quite frankly, I’m rather impressed with the changes.”

As she leaned toward him, he leaned back. Stubborn, stubborn man. Lena followed him, kneeling over him and drinking in the sight of that tempting body.

“Ain’t you hungry?”

“Mmm.” She kissed at his mouth, licked it. “Yes, I am.”

Hands hovered at her sides. Fingers stiff, half reaching for her. “Lena, damn it. You weren’t well.”

“Anyone would think you a skittish bride on her wedding night.” A smoky laugh, her voice lowering. “Now that you can’t hurt me, think of all the things you could do to me.”

His gaze darkened. “You’ve just recovered from a fever.”

“I feel wonderful.” She bit his lower lip, sucking it into her mouth. “I feel better than wonderful.” She laughed, dug her nails into his chest. “I feel like I could do some very wicked things to you, right now.”

Hands clamped on either side of her hips, and he opened up to her, his mouth chasing hers. “Damn you, I thought I lost you.” A shudder ran through him. “I don’t have the words to say… I can’t fight it anymore,” he admitted hoarsely.

“Then don’t.”

Their mouths met, the taste of him hot and furious, full of denied hunger. It felt so right. She almost shuddered, pressing herself against him, desperate to get closer, skin on skin, to let him sink himself deep within her. Need swamped her. Furious, desperate need.

Grabbing the hem of her nightgown, Will shoved it up. They broke the kiss just long enough to get it over her head, then she was naked against him, the rasp of his shirt abrading her nipples, his hands clenching in the soft flesh of her bottom. Lena wove her fingers through his hair, grabbing fistfuls of the silky strands.