Her Dark Knight (18 page)

“When did you realize you had this whole past life?”

Tell her.
“I’ve always known.”

“Did you dream of it?”

“There were dreams. Memories.”

Lainie sighed and settled more comfortably against him. “Did you think you were going crazy too? When you started having these weird dreams?”

“Madelaine, you are not crazy.”

“I know. It’s just sometimes I feel like two different people.”

“There are things about you that are the same as her, but you two are not the same. Your beliefs and your personality have been shaped by the time you are living in, just as Madelaine’s was. That alone makes you two different.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“You have to trust me on this.”

His other hand rested on her thigh and she played with the tips of his fingers. “Sometimes I wonder if my feelings for you aren’t what she felt for you. I experience her emotions in my dreams. And when I awaken, those emotions stay with me. I have to wonder where hers end and mine begin.”

He turned his hand palm up and trapped her fingers in his, stilling her nervous motions. “The only way to find out is to test those emotions.”

“And what if we discover what we feel for each other isn’t real?”

“What we feel for each other is very real.”

Some time passed. Christien stroked her shoulder. She snuggled into his embrace and they watched the moon reflect off the waves.

“How did it end?” she asked.

“How did what end?”

“Madelaine and her dark knight.”

Something cold and lethal sliced through his heart, opening old wounds.

“Not good, huh?”

“No. I’m afraid not.”

“I hope they died together,” she said softly.

France, 1307

“I am already damned,” Madelaine said.

Christien jerked, tensing at Madelaine’s words. “Madelaine, please do not—”

She pressed her fingers to his lips. It was all he could do not to flick out his tongue and taste her. The thought alone made his body harden with the overpowering need to make her his. Damn her husband and damn their wedding vows.

“I am not as naïve as most think. I know you are nothing but kind and honest and you can show me what it can be like.”

He shook his head and enfolded her fingers in his hand. What she proposed… Making love to her… ’Twould be every dream he’d ever had, every prayer he’d ever uttered. But it would also be wrong.

“Would it not be cruel to know and never have again?” he asked, trying to make her see reason. Trying to stay reasonable.

“Or crueler yet to have never known?”

He smiled but it pained him to do so. He was simply a man and what she asked was something his body and soul yearned for, yet his mind was not so adamant. How cruel to both of them to make love and be torn apart forever. Was it not best to simply enjoy what they had?

“If we are discovered, we are dead,” she said softly. “If we are discovered while…” She looked away, her face flushing. Yet when she looked back at him boldness replaced the embarrassment in her eyes as well as determination and a certain amount of acceptance. As if she believed her time here was limited no matter what she did.

“If we are discovered making love we are dead as well,” she finished.

Ah, but there were many ways to die and Christien was well aware of most of them. If caught, the count would make certain their deaths were not swift and painless and one thing Christien knew was he would never, ever give Flandres any reason to harm Madelaine because of something he had done.

And that, of course, raised the question of just what the hell he was doing in this bedchamber with her.

She smiled up at him with those soft amber eyes reflecting defeat and he knew why he was here. Because he was unable to leave.

He lost all sense, all reason. He pulled her close but this time his hold was gentle and she melted into him as he dipped his head and tenderly kissed her lips.
Mon Dieu,
she was everything he had ever wanted in a woman. What a shame they came from such divergent backgrounds. That what they had could never be.

She let out a soft mewl that resonated deep within his bones and set his body on fire with a need so fierce it scalded him. Her hands were caught between them and he backed up a fraction to uncurl her fingers and lay her palms above the uneven beat of his heart.

Her fingers wandered across his chest, burning a path in their wake and making him tremble. She explored his body. His was probably the first male body she had touched like this. Certainly she wouldn’t have touched her husband in such a way.

He’d been careful to keep his raging manhood from her, afraid to frighten her, but she arched her back, pressing her pelvis into it and he nearly came undone.

“My love,” he said between kisses, cupping her face in his hands as he nipped her lips, holding tight to his control.

She made a sound low in her throat.

“We must stop.” But he was unable to force his body to do what his mind demanded. He pressed closer, backing her against the wall. Suddenly she went still, terror in her wide eyes. He pulled back. “Madelaine, look at me.”

Her eyes focused but the terror remained.

“You are not in any danger while you are with me. Do you understand,
ma chérie?
”

She swallowed and he bit back a curse. Something happened to frighten her. She had been responsive until her back hit the wall. He stepped away. Quickly she slipped away from him to stand in the middle of the room.

“I apologize,” she whispered, looking at the floor.

“Never be sorry.”

“He…” She waved her hand to the wall and looked away.

Christien silently cursed. “Lucien or the count?”

“The count.”

The bastard. He cursed out loud and willed his erection to subside.

She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and Christien closed his eyes. His erection would never go away as long as she nibbled on her lip.

“I truly want to know,” she said softly.

“Know what?” Except he knew and his pitiful attempt to buy some time was just that—pitiful.

“I want to know what lovemaking is all about. I want to lie with you, even if it is just once. I want to learn you.”

He stepped back, but this time it was his body pinned against the wall. “This is not the best idea.”

“Please, Christien. What if we never see each other again? What if, God forbid, something were to happen to you on the battlefield?”

Unspoken between them was the thought,
What if something happened to her?
She seemed resigned to the idea she wasn’t going to be of this world much longer and he refused to lie to himself anymore. Lucien wasn’t going away. He would do one of two things, stalk her until he found her alone and unprotected, or tell her husband, whose vengeance would come down on both their heads. Christien was betting on the former. Lucien wanted her for himself. He lusted after her, wanted a taste of her beauty and would not tell her husband, for to do so meant she would be out of his reach.

“Why do you call me ‘my love’?”

Her question took him by surprise.

“Because you love me?” she asked, advancing on him.

He saw no reason to deny his love or fight it. “Yes.”

“And I love you.”

“Don’t,” he said.

“Don’t what? Don’t love you? ’Tis too late, I’m afraid. I fell in love with you in the garden that night so many months ago. Do you remember?”

Remember? The moment was engraved upon his brain. He would never forget the ripeness of her breasts pressed against him or the lavender-and-roses scent of her skin. He would forever remember the taste of her lips upon his and the small hands that held him tight.

She slid her hands up his chest.

He grabbed them and pressed them together to halt her erotic explorations. “I thought we decided we wouldn’t do this.”

“You decided.”

“We are both damned if we continue.”

“And damned if we do not.”

He closed his eyes and rested his head against the stone behind him. He wanted nothing more than to throw her on the bed and show her what a man could do to pleasure a woman. He was up to the task. So what was holding him back?

The fact she was married? ’Twas true he stayed far from other men’s wives, but that wasn’t the reason. Simon of Flandres didn’t deserve her, but neither did she deserve to roast in the fires of hell for making love to him. He was unworthy of the sacrifice and maybe that’s where his hesitation came from. He was her inferior in so many ways.

She kissed his chin, sliding her body up his to reach it and he groaned, pouring all of his frustration into the sound before he stepped away. Her hands fell from his body. Her brows creased in confusion.

“I will not do this to you,” he said. “I will not compromise you.”

Her chin lifted and her eyes flashed in defiance. “We love each other, is that not enough?”

He shook his head. “If your husband were to find out—and make no doubt he will—he will kill you.”

“I am already doomed,” she said softly.

“Stop this,” he hissed, taking an angry step toward her. “I will not hear of this any longer. You will be safe. I am leaving a man behind. His sole purpose will be to guard you.”

Her hands twisted in her skirt. “What if the count discovers him?”

“He is my best man. He will not be discovered. Madelaine, think on this. You would be breaking your holy vows of matrimony and for what? In the end you would still be married to him and he would still have control over you. You wouldn’t be happy with yourself and mayhap even me.”

She bit her bottom lip and looked away. “You are right, of course. I wish it were different. I wish we would have met at a different time, under different circumstances.”

Yet everything would be the same. She was from a noble lineage, he nothing but a lowly knight. If things had been different, they probably would never have met at all.

He gathered her in his arms one last time. “
Je t’aime,
my Madelaine.”

Christien rolled out of bed, careful not to wake Madelaine, and made his way down the hall to collapse on the couch, head in his hands, trying desperately to control his breathing. It had been ages since he’d dreamt so vividly, so this one took him by surprise. ’Twas as if it happened only yesterday.

He groaned and ran a hand down his sweaty face. How many times had he wished he’d taken her up on the offer to bed her? How many regrets did he have of that night? He often wondered what the outcome would have been if he’d known that was the last time he would see her. Would he have bedded her?

He surged off the couch and paced to the bank of windows. For once the view of the lake and the reflected lights of the city didn’t soothe him. His heart beat hard against his ribs and his blood pounded through him at the memories that wouldn’t let him go. He drew in a deep breath, exhaling slowly.

Had the count known? Was that why Christien and his men were suddenly called away that night? These questions haunted him to this day.

He looked at the time. Three in the morning. He would not be going back to sleep now, not after the dream, and he didn’t want to toss and turn in bed and risk waking Madelaine, so he snuck back in his room, grabbed a pair of jeans and his phone and headed to his office to make some overseas calls.

But when he reached his office, he had a message from the private investigator he’d hired to look into Madelaine’s background. He listened to the message, the blood draining from his head, leaving him dizzy. Slowly he replaced the receiver and stared into the darkness.

Lainie stepped onto the elevator and nodded to the man guarding the entrance to Christien’s private quarters. It was Friday night and the club was packed, but all she wanted to do was get upstairs, change out of her work clothes and collapse into Christien’s arms. That wasn’t possible though because Christien was working.

Maybe a hot bath, a chilled glass of wine and soothing music would do the trick.

She leaned against the elevator wall and blew out a breath. Two hours ago Giselle had come to her with a big project, the biggest project Lainie would be in charge of to date. She’d been excited Giselle had finally put a little more faith in her and gave her more responsibility. Maybe they’d turned some sort of corner. But then Giselle told her the project was due Monday morning.

She would have to work all weekend and it still didn’t give her enough time to complete it and Giselle knew it. Once again she was being set up for failure.

Part of her wanted to walk out of the office and never come back. She could take Christien up on his offer of the trust for her father and find a job she loved.

However, at this point in her life those thoughts were fruitless so she buckled down and worked until her eyes burned and her back ached because she wanted to prove to Giselle she could do this. And she wanted to prove to herself that someone like Giselle wasn’t going to beat her down.

She and Christien had plans for Saturday. They were going to move the remainder of her stuff out of her apartment, and Christien was going to take her to lunch. They’d never had a “real” date and she’d been looking forward to it. Now she’d have to work.

Damn Giselle.

Lainie entered Christien’s apartment.
Their
apartment. He kept reminding her it was hers too, but she found it hard to accept these lavish furnishings were actually hers.

The silence pressed down on her, leaving her alone with her thoughts. As much as she wanted a hot bath and chilled wine, even more, she didn’t want to be alone. And why should she when she had an entire club beneath her?

She didn’t have “clubbing” clothes, but she chose her favorite jeans that skimmed her hips and made her legs look longer, and a low-cut, somewhat tight blouse that accented her ample chest. It was the best she could do on such short notice. She ran a brush through her hair, applied some lip gloss and headed back down in the elevator.

As with most Friday nights, the place was hopping and a long line of people waited to get in. Lainie slipped through the crowd and made her way to the bar where she planned to have one glass of wine while she did some people-watching before heading to bed. Christien wouldn’t return until the wee hours of the morning, close to when she would awaken and head back to work.

Ah, well. They had plenty more weekends together.

“Madelaine?”

She turned to find Christien weaving through the thick crowd, moving unerringly toward her. He took her hand, his gaze serious. “What is wrong? Are you all right?”

She stood on her tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek. “I’m fine.”

“What brings you down here?”

She shrugged, not wanting to admit she was lonely and not wanting to dump her work problems on him when he was obviously very busy. “I thought I’d have a drink and take in the scene.”

He smiled and kissed her fingers. “I’m delighted you came. I know the perfect place to put you, away from the action, but still able to see it.”

He led her to the end of the bar, far from the front door and very close to the elevator leading to his private quarters. He introduced her to the bartender who’d served her the first night she’d come looking for him.

Christien kissed her on the forehead. “I truly am glad you are here,” he said above the beat of the music. He smoothed her hair, his gaze sincere.

She smiled and waved him away. “Go. Do your thing.”

Christien shot Ken the bartender a pointed look. “Take care of her,” he said and disappeared into the crowd.

The dance floor was filled with writhing bodies and women barely dressed. The flashing lights reflected off the sparkles in their halter-tops and strapless dresses. Scattered among the dancers were couples wound tightly together.

“Try this.” Ken slid a glass of blue liquid toward her.

“What is it?”

“Blueberry martini. My specialty.”

She took a careful sip and smiled. It tasted like a melted ice pop so she took another sip and turned back to the dance floor.

Occasionally she’d catch a glimpse of Christien as he moved through the crowd. A man put his hand on Christien’s shoulder and Christien bent his head to listen, laughed and moved on. Both men and women stopped him and he would listen attentively before continuing through the crowd. Lainie fought unexpected jealousy when women touched him. Some provocatively, others possessively and still others just to get his attention. Christien, however, didn’t seem to notice. He treated everyone the same.

Except for Sabine.

Immediately Lainie felt the connection between the two. They moved in tandem, one on one side of the room, the other on the other side, yet they communicated silently with just a nod or a glance. It was obvious they had worked together a long time.

Sabine also talked to whoever stopped her, but was very adept at sidestepping the wandering hands of a few drunken men with a laugh and an admonishment.

Another blueberry martini appeared at her elbow and Lainie took a sip. Sabine slid onto the barstool next to her.

“Welcome to The Chevalier,” she said with a wide smile.

“Thank you.”

Ken handed Sabine a drink of what looked like carbonated water with lemon and Sabine sipped it.

Lainie tugged on her plain, knit shirt and ran her palms along her jeans, eyeing Sabine’s silver spangled halter-top that dipped low between perfect breasts and her tight, black leather pants that made her legs look a mile long.

“Are you having fun?” Sabine asked.

Lainie nodded, her tongue suddenly thick and awkward.

A waitress motioned Sabine over and she slid off her stool. “Back to work,” she said brightly with a small wave toward Lainie.

Christien met up with Sabine and the waitress and the three powwowed with their heads bent together. Christien’s dark hair brushed against Sabine’s nearly white-blond hair and Lainie’s stomach churned.

Of course Christien had a life before Lainie. He was a good-looking guy and it would be stupid of her to think he’d never had a girlfriend. The internet articles with the pictures of the supermodels proved he had. She drank half the martini in one gulp to drown the jealousy suddenly rearing its ugly head.

It wasn’t as if she hadn’t had boyfriends. She’d had lots. Dozens. Scores.
Legions.

Okay, maybe just two and a few dates that never panned out.

Someone slid onto the stool Sabine vacated and jostled Lainie’s arm.

“Sorry,” said a masculine voice.

“S’okay.” She turned to the newcomer and smiled.

He smiled back and offered his hand. “John,” he said.

She shook. “Lainie. Good to meet you.”

“You come here often?” He laughed. “That sounds like a lame pick-up line. It’s just I’ve been here a few times and I’ve never seen you.”

Lainie straightened, recognizing the interest in his eyes. His smile was warm and welcoming. He leaned closer and she caught the clean scent of soap.

“I’ve been here a few times.” Three to be exact, but the one didn’t count since she’d been running to Christien for help and he’d swept her through so fast she doubted anyone saw her.

“It’s a cool place,” John said.

He had red hair. Lainie liked redheads. He had freckles on his hands too. How cute was that?

“Yeah,” she said. “Cool.” She stuck with the one-word answers because suddenly she couldn’t get her tongue to work.

“What are you drinking?” He lifted his chin toward her drink.

Lainie held up her nearly empty glass and peered into it. Hadn’t Ken just filled it? “Blueberry martini.”

John smiled again. “You’re hammered.”

Lainie shook her head. The lights swirled. She lost her balance and had to grab hold of the bar to keep from falling off her stool. “Nah,” she said with a wave of her hand.

“Want another?” He motioned to Ken.

“Sure.”

Ken approached, saw Lainie talking to John and his smile faded. “Another for the lady,” John said. “And I’ll have a beer.”

Ken eyed Lainie warily, but turned to fill their orders. John swiveled his body fully toward hers. Their knees brushed. He was wearing jeans and a three-button shirt. Not clubbing clothes. She liked him even more.

“You from around here?” he asked.

“No. Yes.”

He laughed again. He had a nice laugh. Very friendly. “So which is it? Yes or no?”

“No, I’m not from here originally. Yes, I live here.” Lainie concentrated on her words, making sure she pronounced each one distinctly.

Ken appeared with their drinks. John ignored the mug Ken gave him and drank the beer straight from the bottle. Lainie liked that. He was a man’s man.

“You wanna dance, Lainie?”

She looked at the dance floor, at the people packed tightly together yet moving fast. Her legs felt a little numb. “No. But thanks.”

“Hammered,” he said with a twinkle in his eye.

She liked the twinkle. It made him very approachable.

“Got a girlfriend?” She clamped her lips together. Totally the wrong thing to say. He would think she was interested and she wasn’t. To hide her mortification she took a big gulp of the martini.

“You applying for the position?”

She smiled. “No. It’s just you’re such a nice guy I figured some lucky girl would have scooped you up by now.”

“No lucky girl,” he said. “What about you? Got a boyfriend?”

“You applying for the position?” Oh, man. What the heck was she doing flirting with this guy? Yet it was fun and carefree and Lord knew she hadn’t had any fun or carefree moments since she’d walked into this place that first night. The martini—martinis? How many had she had?—drowned her inhibitions and loosened her tongue. No harm in talking to the guy. It wasn’t like she was going to go home with him. The only one she wanted to go home with was Christien.

“Maybe.” He winked at her. “The position open?”

The laugh died right out of her and suddenly this wasn’t fun anymore. “I don’t know,” she said seriously, looking down into her glass.

“You don’t know if you have a boyfriend?”

She shrugged and reached for her martini. But John was holding it. She frowned. When did he pick up her glass? With a crooked smile he handed it to her and she drained the rest of it with a shrug. Ken didn’t miraculously appear with another one. “It’s complicated.”

“Ah. One of those. Don’t you hate when they get complicated?”

“Yeah,” she said. “I do.”

Christien stepped out of the private party room and breathed a sigh of relief. One more disaster averted. These bachelorette parties were going to be the death of him—figuratively speaking, of course.

He headed into the crowd and slowly made his way toward the bar and Madelaine. She didn’t normally come down here at night and he was worried something was wrong. She looked tired, beat down. What the hell had Giselle done to her now? Christien had half a mind to follow through with his threat of destroying Lucheux and Giselle’s business with the excuse they were abusing Madelaine, but he wouldn’t. It would be an abuse of his powers and an ace up his sleeve he needed to hold on to.

He pushed through the last of the crowd and stopped. An ice-cold fury swarmed over him and every muscle tensed.

Madelaine was leaning toward a man seated next to her. Their knees were touching, her elbow was resting on the bar, her chin in the palm of her hand. They were deep in conversation, the bastard occasionally taking a sip from a beer bottle as they talked and laughed.

Her eyelids were heavy and her movements sluggish, causing Christien to frown. Surely she wasn’t drunk. She’d said she wanted one glass of wine.

She smiled and touched the man’s knee. He leaned close and said something that made her frown. Christien was beside her before his mind processed his body moving and Madelaine was looking up at him with big brown eyes, slightly unfocused and a little surprised.

“Christien!”

Christien turned to the man, piercing him with a steely-eyed glare that had worked to his advantage in many battles and bar fights. The man slowly placed his beer bottle on the bar and stood. His look was guarded and Christien took some male pride in the fact he was a few inches taller and definitely more muscular. His reaction was ridiculous, of course.