Immortal Sacrifice: #4 The Curse of the Templars (27 page)

She pressed on his shoulders, broke their kiss to look into his heavy-lidded stare. “Do you have any protection with you?”

A lazy grin tugged at his mouth.
He pressed a chaste kiss to the center of her forehead. “I cannot sire children, Isa.”

Oh, but he could.

With one prolonged thrust, he stretched her tight and filled her up.

Oh, but she didn’t care…

Engulfed by a torrent of ecstasy, Isabelle closed her eyes and tipped her pelvis, taking him even deeper. Their voices mingled in the dark, shared groans of insurmountable pleasure. She raked her hands down the length of his back, savoring the feel of his smooth bronzed skin beneath her palms. Like this, she didn’t care about anything. He could tell her she’d die tomorrow and it wouldn’t matter, so long as she could capture and hold every bit of happiness that loving Caradoc offered. It was the most natural, most unstoppable desire she’d ever known.

He withdrew only to slide back in more fully.
The subtle friction of his abdomen against hers and his movement deep inside her constricted her chest. This was right. He
felt
right. His weight was comfortable, his kiss intoxicating. The pressure of his mouth hinted at desperation that matched the frantic beat of her heart. She didn’t need words to understand she created that urgency inside him, just as he stoked the same within her.

Make me yours.

The thought slammed into her with such ferocity, she wound her legs around his waist, the acute need for him to do just that suddenly critical. She needed to be close. Far closer than their skin would allow. If she could crawl beneath that damp barrier and become one with him, body and soul, she would.

She needed to belong to Caradoc once more.

As if Caradoc sensed the same longing, he hit her hard and deep, a fierce thrust that crumbled the walls remaining between them. He slipped his hands behind her, gripping her buttocks and guiding her into a steady rhythm. They moved as one, countering the other’s motion in perfect symphony. A crescendo not to be outdone by the crashing waves or the lilting melody wafting from the village below.

Pleasure didn’t creep up to saturate and slowly consume.
Instead, it combusted like sparks set to gunpowder. She clamped her legs tighter, arched her back against the sheer force of it. A cry ripped free from her throat. Digging her nails into his shoulders, she clung to him as she trembled. Caradoc moved hard within her again, and again, until his body tensed. Deep within her womb, his cock pulsed with his own release, and a similar sound of pleasure rumbled deep within his throat.

As his shoulders relaxed, he eased his full weight into her as he lowered her body to the ground.
“Isabelle.” His ragged whisper hung in the crisp night air.

Stunned by what had just happened between them, Isabelle trailed one hand down the smooth plane of his back.
They’d made love before. Climbed to heights she’d believed impossible. But in all the times they’d been locked together in the height of passion, she’d never felt so absolutely connected with him. Like if he left her now, if he dared to separate their bodies, she would lose something she’d never again be able to claim. And yet, there was something missing. Some absolutely important element she couldn’t quite define, yet she tasted it on the tip of her tongue.

Caradoc lifted one hand to smooth her hair away from her damp forehead.
He dipped his head, fluttered a kiss at the corner of her right eye. Then, he lifted his gaze and held hers while his thumb brushed at the corner of her opposite eye.

Crying.
She was crying with the magnanimity of it all.
That
had certainly never happened when he’d made love to her before.

“Shh,” he whispered.
“Shh, sweet Isa.”

On a hard swallow, she blinked back the unfamiliar tears.
In his tender gaze, she found unfaltering strength. Support she’d once had, then lost, only to find it again in some remote corner of Sicily when she most desperately needed it.

She’d found Caradoc once more.

I love you.

It occurred to her then, that was the element that was missing.
She’d said a lot of things since she’d stumbled onto him in Shapiro’s great hall four days ago, most of which involved denouncing all the immense feeling she harbored for this man. But amid all the words, all the futile explanations of why she couldn’t stay with him, she had yet to admit the one thing that possessed her heart.

She needed to tell him.
Tonight. Before they left this quiet alcove on the cliffside and returned to all the reality she couldn’t escape.

The idea of uttering those three sacred words, however, terrified her more than the prospect of confronting that demon in her nightmare.
What if he left again? What if September posed too much responsibility?

Chapter
26

I
sabelle was moving before she could disconnect from her terrifying thoughts. Caradoc’s hands spanned beneath her back, bringing her body flush with his. He rolled over, taking her with him so that she lay draped over his chest, one leg tucked between his. His fingers caressed her back, toyed with the ends of her hair.

She laid her cheek against his skin, and using one fingertip, drew a pattern of small circles on his chest.
His gentle breathing buoyed her. Beneath her ear, his heart thumped strong and hard. Glancing up at his face, she smiled at his lowered eyelashes. His expression was so peaceful she’d swear he was sleeping if it hadn’t been for the faint smile that lingered on his mouth.

Her heart swelled just looking at him.
In his protective embrace, she couldn’t feel the chilly air. His warmth rolled off him, soaked into her, and carried her backward in time, to a similar night spent in an English field, three years ago. A time when things had been simpler, when she’d never dreamed he might walk away.

“Caradoc?” she asked quietly.

He opened his eyes and looked into hers. “Aye?”

“Can I love you again?”

His smile faded, and those incredible hazel eyes gleamed like burnished brass. He fitted his hands around her ribs, dragged her more fully across his body. Then, he framed her face between his palms and lifted his head off the ground, forcing her to maintain his unsettling stare. “Only if you believe I have never stopped loving you.”

His words rendered her speechless.
She closed her eyes to stop the sudden rush of tears, but they crept from the corners of her eyes to slide soundlessly down her cheeks. She’d wanted to doubt him, wanted to accuse him of being nothing but a player. But the hoarsening of his voice, the emotion that rippled beneath his words, made it impossible to believe in the simpler explanation that she’d been strictly a passing entertainment. That what they’d shared in England had been meaningless.

“Why?” she choked out through a tightening throat.
Three years of heartbreak poured out through her straining voice. “Why did you leave me? Why couldn’t you have at least said goodbye?”

Caradoc’s sharp intake of air was the only sign he’d heard her questions.
He lay still as stone. Not even a twitch from his fingers.

Rapidly blinking back her tears, she opened her eyes to search his expression for answers.
What she saw there twisted her heart upside down. Moisture gathered in the corners of his eyes as well. He didn’t speak because his teeth were clamped into his lower lip, biting back grief he couldn’t contain.

On an unsteady exhale, he dashed the wetness away with the back of his wrist.
She waited, her eyes searching his face as his searched the overhead stars. Finally, he lowered his gaze to hers and breathed deeply. “You would not have understood.”

She opened her mouth to protest, but the shake of his head silenced her.

“Nay. You would have understood. I believed the opposite.”

Isabelle pressed her fingertips to his cheek as a rush of compassion swamped her.
“Why would you think that?”

Sighing heavily, Caradoc set his elbows on the ground and lifted up, bringing them into a sitting position.
He positioned her sideways in his lap with her knees over one thigh. His discarded jacket served as a makeshift blanket to her exposed skin, and when he finished tucking it around her, he pulled the loose panels of her blouse together to further shield her from the cool night air.

“I had confessed to no one.
You believed I was a man, like any other you might meet, when I was not. I was afraid of your rejection, but worse…” He paused as he hugged his arms around her more tightly and rested his cheek on the crown of her head. “I feared what might happen should you accept all I told you.”

* * *

Caradoc fought the tightening behind his chest as the night he had left Isabelle’s side took root in his memory. He could not explain all the reasons that had forced him to abandon her without broaching the subject of seraphs and her inevitable place in his life. He ached to tell her. To draw from her the one oath that would bind them together eternally. But she had resisted his earlier attempts with such determination, he held no hope he would succeed in convincing her tonight. At best, she would dismiss his claims with laughter. At worst, they would fight, and the bridges they had crossed tonight would once again burn.

He could not return to that desolate place where he fought for every inch of Isabelle’s affection.
Where he made believe she was there every time he closed his eyes so he could find the strength to continue another day. Where he prayed for the one thing he wanted least—that some day when he embraced the night, her face would fade.

“Is there something that might happen?
I mean, a lifetime with you was all I ever really wanted,” Isabelle said with a forced laugh that betrayed deeper pain.

Tangling his fingers through her thick hair, he clutched her close.
“All I could see, Isa, was the day I would stand at your bedside and you would depart this world. I would remain, unable to follow you. If I survived the curse that long, myself.” If he should have turned into Azazel’s servant tied to her as such…he could not bear bringing her that horror. But now was not the time to broach the nature of his soul. Not when she needed reassurance to a far simpler thing; his love.

The ever-so-slight stiffening of her spine voiced the question she kept silent:
Are you still afraid?

Answering, however, was out of the question.
The reasons broached too close to the subject he wished to avoid. Instead, he leaned back and caught her mouth with his, choosing a simpler, yet more meaningful response. Her delicate fingers trembled against his cheek. Reaching up, he captured that shaking hand, tucked it between their bodies, and closed his fingers around it. Holding her still, quietly telling her the only way he knew how that he would never turn away from her again.

As pent up feeling squashed his lungs so tightly he feared he might suffocate if he did not allow it to escape, he eased the kiss to a close and whispered, “I love you, Isabelle.”

The smile that spread slowly across her face was bright enough to light a starless sky. Her eyes twinkled in the same fashion he could not banish from memory. She dusted her mouth over his. “I love you.”

Snuggling deeper into his embrace, she tucked her head against his shoulder.
Her misplaced chuckle, however, confused him. “What stirs your humor?”

“I just realized something.”

“Aye?”

“You weren’t at Kiddington Hall researching your ancestors as you claimed.
You were visiting, weren’t you? Land and people you once knew. Asterleigh—you owned that land.”

Caradoc yielded to a wistful smile.
“Aye. I am of Asterleigh. My ancestors were once great kings. I went to say goodbye.”

“What is the darkness in your soul that you talk about?”

’Twas his turn to stiffen. She was so fragile now, with worry for her daughter. He did not wish to scare her further with talk of demons and dark knights. Especially not when she feared such a creature and what it would do to her daughter. “’Tis a long story, Isa.”

“I’ve got all night.”

He sighed heavily, his choices removed. He would not lie to her. “The creature you have seen in your nightmare—’tis those beasts, and others, I am sworn to slay. Each time I take a vile life, however, I assume a portion of their evil.”

She sucked in a sharp breath.
“Can it hurt you?”

Enough.
He would not discuss this tonight. ’Twas too beautiful an evening to taint. Lifting her, he urged her legs around his waist. With the back of his hand, he nudged her blouse open so he could feel the press of her skin against his. So she could feel him as well. “Nay, no longer,” he murmured against the side of her neck.

’Twas as close to the truth as he dared.

Isabelle tipped her head back in surrender. She rested her hands on his shoulders, her eyes fluttering shut as a tremor vibrated through her body. “Take me home, Caradoc. Home with you.”

The whispered instruction affected him like current flowing between two metal poles.
His gut clamped down hard, and though he had possessed her only moments earlier, his cock swelled with want of her. The warmth of her intimate feminine center called him home as certainly as she ordered him to take her there. He gave in to a lift of his hips, torn between taking her there in his lap, or doing as she requested and making love to her in his bed.

“There’s a huge bathtub in your room,” Isabelle whispered.

He needed to hear no more. Reluctantly, he set her out of his lap and reached for his trousers. Like giddy teenagers, they donned their clothes in a flurry, laughing as they dressed. When she held her heeled shoes in one hand, he grasped her other, and tugged her toward the path that led down the mountainside.

Yet as he set foot on the gravel trail, he came to an abrupt stop, possessed by a need he could not comprehend.
He turned to her, knowing only that he must have a deeper promise. “Isabelle.”

“Yes?”
Her eyebrows lifted in confusion.

“I want morning to change naught.
Tell me you have forgiven me? Tell me I shall always have your heart?”

* * *

Like a willow in a strong wind, everything inside Isabelle swayed against the storm of emotion reflecting in Caradoc’s expression. The sheer power of feeling there threatened to snap her in half. That he could believe anything less, that this man who was so strong and confident could harbor such a senseless insecurity touched her in ways she couldn’t define.

She’d loved him since the day she’d met him.
When it came to Caradoc, she didn’t know how to do anything else.

While she struggled for a response that would convey her deep commitment, he rushed to words again.

“I know there is much still between us to be resolved. I am not so foolish to believe the coming days will be easy. That there are not still wounds that need to heal. But I—”

She stepped forward, pressing her fingertips to his mouth.
“There are no more wounds, Caradoc.” He’d healed every one of them by answering the one thing she couldn’t—why he’d left. Just hearing that he hadn’t cast her aside because he didn’t care salved every cut on her heart.

Isabelle withdrew her hand and feathered her mouth across his.
“I forgive you. Nothing changes when the sun rises.”

His kiss was fierce and instantaneous.
He lifted her off her feet, crushed her against his chest, tangled his hands in her hair. She returned the ardent stroke of his tongue with equal need, matching hunger, until breathing became impossible, and she turned her face aside to gasp for air.

Caradoc gently lowered her to the ground, his breath equally as hard as hers.
“Come.” Grabbing her by the hand, he guided her down the dark path. “As you said, ’tis a bathtub in need of use.”