The Legacy (11 page)

Seeing Caitlin now wouldn’t be fair. He had absolutely nothing to offer her, nothing other than a raw, aching need that wouldn’t let him alone. Nothing more than a love that because of the less than honorable circumstances under which he was in her house, he didn’t feel free to confess.

She deserved honesty and one hundred percent of him, and right now, he couldn’t give her either.

He stuffed his hands in his pockets, and with shoulders hunched, turned to go. Then he heard her cry out.

He opened the door, rushed in, and in that moment learned the true meaning of fear. Flames were steadily eating their way up the length of one set of draperies and onto another. To his horrified eyes, Caitlin appeared completely defenseless in her bare feet and skimply pink-satin chemise, trying to fight the angry red fire with only the coverlet from her bed. 

Intent on battling the flames, she didn’t realize Nico had entered the room until he lifted her and carried her to safety by the doorway.

She struggled against him. “The fire, Nico. I’ve got to put it out.”

“I’ll
take care of it.
You
call the fire department.” She tried to push past him. “By the time anyone gets here, the whole house will be cinders.”

He took a grip on her arms to hold her still. "Then, dammit, do exactly as I say. Stay right here, and I'll put it out.”

“But—”

“You’re wasting a hell of a lot of time, Caitlin.” Immediately she took a step back and held up her hands. “Do it. For heaven’s sake, just do it.”

The sob in her voice spurred him to action. He ripped the drapes down and hurled the coverlet over both sets. He made a few stomps over the mound, then dragged the blanket off the bed and jerked more draperies from the walls, throwing all of them on the pile. Gradually the fire was suffocated until there were only smoke and the acrid smell of burnt textiles.

"Are you all right?” Caitlin asked at his side.

"I thought I told you to stay over there.”

“Let me see your hands. Oh Lord, you’ve burned them.”

“No, they’re just dirty.”

“Let’s run cool water over them to clean them, and then we’ll be able to tell.” Shock and the trembling that came with it had started to set in, but tending to his wounds was uppermost in her mind.

“In a minute. First, I want to open these windows and get this smell out of here, then make sure the carpet’s not smoldering somewhere that we haven’t seen yet.” Soon a fresh ocean breeze was blowing through the room. He kicked the burned pile of curtains out to the balcony and inspected the carpet. Finally, he was satisfied, and he gave Caitlin his full attention.

Her eyes were wide as she watched his every move. “You shouldn’t have put yourself in danger like that,” she murmured.

“Me?”
He had a great urge to shake her for putting
herself
in such terrible danger. “Look at yourself. You’re nearly naked, and you were trying to put the fire out with your hands.”

“I had the coverlet.”

He wanted to take her in his arms, hold her tightly against him, and let her sweetness flow into him so that he'd forget the sight of the fire rising behind her like some menacing monster. He settled for returning to her side and venting his frustration. “Lord, Caitlin, what if I hadn’t been passing by? What if you’d fallen and hit your head and been knocked unconscious? You could have died of smoke inhalation, maybe even burned to death.”

He must care, she thought absently. She was still somewhat numbed by the near disaster, but he must care at least a little about her. But was
caring a little
enough for her? “None of those things happened.”

“No. Not this time, but this is exactly why you shouldn’t stay here by yourself next week.”

"Then stay with me,” she said abruptly.

Her quiet request was like a sudden punch in the stomach. He closed his eyes and shook his head. “I can’t, Caitlin.”

“Why?”

When he looked at her again and saw the shock that lingered in her eyes, he groaned. “Lord, what am I thinking of?” He swept her up in his arms and strode out of the room. “You need to be wrapped up and put in bed.”

“I don’t have any more bedrooms made up. ”

His arms tightened. “That’s all right. You're staying in my room tonight.”

Nico’s bedroom was quiet; sill its sharp comers and edges were softened by shadows. Candles rising from a tall silver candelabrum emitted a pale glow that spread over the bed’s cream-satin coverlet and lapped at the surrounding circle of dark.

He still cradled her in his arms, and to Caitlin, there was something infinitely right about the way her body fit against him, as if in some far distant past, they had been made from the same piece, separated, and were now together again. It was the same feeling she’d had this afternoon when he’d thrust into her.

“Why did you bring me here?” she asked in the hush.

He felt her warm breath against his cheek. Without choice, his hold on her tightened. “You’ve had a shock. I think the best thing for you would be to get into bed and cover up.”

She considered that. "And you? Where will you be?”

“Downstairs, somewhere, on a couch.”

They had had hot passionate sex on the beach, but she had never spent the night in his arms, and now it appeared she never would. The idea was strangely unacceptable.

But she had to accept. She
had
to.

Her gaze dropped to his jaw and the muscle that briefly flickered, then returned to his taut profile. “At least let me see to your hand.”

Slowly he eased his hold on her and let her feet slide to the floor until she stood without his support. His arms felt curiously empty. The pink-satin chemise followed her body’s shape, skimming over her breasts, catching on the tiny outward jut of her nipples, making a slight indentation at her waist before caressing the rounded curves of her hips and ending at her thighs. “You’re going to get chilled,” he said, his voice husky.

“Being chilled is not my problem.”

Her whispered response went straight through him like a scorching wind that left him parched for the taste of her. And when he looked into her eyes, he saw the shimmering reflection of a candle’s flame. Almost desperately, he reached for the fast-fading remnants of his strength. “I’m only trying to take care of you, Caitlin.”

“I know that, but why?”

Out of thin air, he created a reason. “Because you took me In when I needed a place to stay.”

“Oh. So you’re grateful to me?”

Caitlin in this mood was as dangerous as any gun he’d ever faced, and his tone was wary. “That’s right.” “Then since you’re so grateful, give me something I need.”

"What?”

“Help me understand you.”

A sardonic smile lifted a comer of his mouth. “Trust me. Understanding me wouldn’t help a thing.” “I think it would.”

She was tenacious, and he could tell that she wasn’t going to give up easily. He felt assaulted by her questions and her sensuality, and he badly needed a reprieve from her. In her bare feet, wearing a scrap of nothing, her hair tousled in silky waves around her face, she looked too soft, too sweet, too sexy. In short, too damn much like everything he’d ever wanted.

And though he no longer held her, he could feel the heat coming from her body in waves, battering him, bruising him with need.

“You’re right,” he muttered. “I should do something about my hands. ”

He disappeared into the darkness of the bathroom, and she heard him turn on the tap. Staring after him, she tried to recall the moment after the fire when the idea had occurred to her that he might care. She wondered if she'd been right. Obviously he had been concerned for her safety. But was it only the concern one would feel for someone owed a favor? At this moment, she didn’t have a clue. Only a newfound hope. She might be setting herself up for another fall, but it did seem that he had held her longer than necessary once they’d reached this room. “Let me see your hands,” she said when he returned. “They’re fine.”

“Then you won’t mind if I check them, will you?” she asked mildly, taking his arm and leading him to the candelabrum. In the brightness, she smoothed her hand across his, straightening his fingers to look for any sign of burn.

Her touch was as light as the brush of a butterfly's wing, its effect nearly catastrophic.

Tentatively she pressed a finger against the hard flesh of his palm. “Does that hurt?”

He swallowed hard.
Not as much as having you this close to me.
“No.”

She gave the other hand the same thorough inspection. When she finished, she kept the hand in hers. Lightly, idly, she rubbed the tops of his knuckles. “You were lucky. You could have been burned.”

“So could you.” Compulsively, he stroked his free hand down her spine.

The warmth from the candles caressed the side of her face. The warmth from his hand gliding down her back curled and gathered and grew, deep inside her. “No, not really.”

“Yes, dammit, really. I’ve never seen anything like it. You think more of this house than you do of yourself.”

“You’re exaggerating.”

“Sweetheart, those flames were no exaggeration.” He reached out and stroked a finger across her cheek. “When I think of what those flames could have done to this skin—” The horror of his thoughts was apparent in the shakiness of his voice.

“It sounds like you really care.”

He took his hand away. Their lovemaking this afternoon was a living, vivid memory. His body clamored to have her again. It would be so easy ... so wonderful ... so mindbending. And that was the trouble. He couldn’t let his mind be rearranged. He would only hurt her more than he already had. Just now, he’d made a grave mistake by allowing his emotions to get the better of him. Now he had to try to repair the damage. “Of course I do,” he said in a casual, offhand way.

“How much, Nico? How much do you care?”

His dark brows drew together with annoyance, at himself and the circumstances that wouldn’t allow him to be honest with her. “What kind of question is that?”

“A legitimate one. You see, you confuse me.” “There’s nothing to be confused about,” he said impatiently.

His sharp reply didn’t disturb her. She sensed she was close to the answers she so desperately needed.

“Really? Then make me understand how you can kiss me one minute and tell me to leave you alone the next. And how you can make love to me on the beach in the afternoon, then tell me that you’ll be leaving the next morning.”

Yes, Nico, why don’t you do that?
He felt the tightrope give a wide swing beneath him, and he reached for brutal honesty to keep him steady. “I kissed you and made love to you because I wanted to, more than I wanted to draw my next breath. I’m leaving because it’s best for you.”

“That sounds like you think you might hurt me.” “Caitlin ...”

“Do you think you’ll hurt me?”

He could feel something breaking apart in him, but he continued to fight. With Caitlin, he needed honor, and he had a short supply. He slid his hand along the side of her neck and with a thumb beneath her chin, tilted her face up to his so that she wouldn’t miss one word of what he was about to say. “If I don’t leave in the next minute, I can almost guarantee that I will.”

She studied his stern, closed expression. There was so much she didn’t know about him, so much she might never learn. But it was plain she had two choices: accept him as he was, or back away. The struggle on his face and the warning he had given her told her that in his way, he was trying to play fair. Or as much as he could, considering all that had already gone on between them. “You told me yourself that I’m tough. Remember?”

“Yes, but I don't want to put you in the position of having to find out how tough you are.”

“Perhaps, Nico, you already have.”

It seemed to him at that moment that her eyes

could see all the way to his soul. His teeth ground together as the pressure built inside him. “Maybe.” “You can be sure of it.”

“No. I’m not sure about anything anymore. Except, Caitlin, that wanting you is eating me up inside.”

“Inside?” With a boldness she wouldn’t have had this morning, she pushed his sweater up until she could run her palm over his abdomen. “Inside here?” He couldn’t control the shudder of hunger that ripped through him or his reply. “Yes. And lower.” Holding his gaze, she unbuckled his belt and undid his pants. His hand shot out to close over hers in a painful grip. Agony registered on his face and in the rawness in his voice, as if it hurt him to speak, to breathe. "I want you to know, if you go any further, you won’t have a choice. Despite all my sins and despite all my crimes, you will be mine.”

“Sins, crimes, whatever—my choices are all gone, Nico.”

With a harsh, fragmented sound, he yanked her against him and brought his mouth down on hers with an urgent, demanding need. She was right, he thought hazily. Choices had disappeared long ago.

Her arms wrapped around his neck and held him tightly. Someone was trembling; she was sure it was she. But when she arched her back to press her breasts against his chest, a tremor racked his powerful body, and she knew she wasn’t alone in this wild, magnificient madness.

Control lost once could be rationalized away. Control lost twice had to be accepted. In the past, control had meant the difference between life and death. Now all his protection was peeling away, leaving him forever defenseless to this woman he held in his arms. He was left with nothing but a fierce passion and an undying love for her.

He backed her against the bed, then lowered her to the cream-satin coverlet and followed her down, entering a world of soft hues, sensual textures, and blazing passions.

The chemise had ridden up, revealing narrow pink panties and ivory skin. With a groan, he pressed his face into the softness of her belly.

Hot sweetness flooded through her. She inhaled sharply and held her breath, waiting for what was to come next, the expectancy a pleasure all its own. Then his tongue darted out to lick at her, and a low, broken moan escaped from her throat.

The honeyed taste and satiny feel of her against the roughness of his tongue was a revelation to him. But the tiny shivers that coursed just beneath her skin brought him special delight. Gently he bit his way across her smooth flat stomach. Not a single mark showed his path—only a trail of fire.