by Day Leclaire
“I’m afraid I would mind. But don’t let that stop you.”
Her mouth twitched and she splashed water at him. “You are a rotten man.”
“Not rotten. But definitely all man.”
He lunged at her, catching her around the waist and yanking her into his arms. He didn’t give her time to catch her breath, let alone protest. He took her mouth in a kiss as thorough and urgent as the one they’d shared on their wedding night.
Her mouth was warm and wet and the most delicious thing he’d ever tasted. This time there weren’t any witnesses to the embrace, and he could take his time and explore at his leisure. He half expected her to resist, to slap him or give him hell in Italian.
To his surprise, her curiosity matched his own. Her hands slipped upward to trace the contours of his face before sliding into his hair and tugging. But it wasn’t a demand for release. It was a silent appeal for more.
With a harsh groan, he mated her mouth with his, deepening the kiss until their breath became one. His hands swept up and under her shirt and closed over her breasts. They were every bit as full and lush as they’d appeared through her wet shirt, the skin like velvet against his palms. The peaks turned to hard nubs beneath his touch, and he captured them between his fingers, torturing a moan of sheer pleasure from her.
For a tantalizing moment she pressed herself more fully into his embrace, giving with the soft want that was uniquely woman. Water swirled between them, carrying them together so their hips fit male to female. A groan snagged in his throat. It would be so easy to strip away the thin layers of clothing separating them and mate more than just their mouths. His hands swept downward, his thumbs hooking into the waistband of her shorts. Before he could slip them off her hips, she twisted free.
Wrapping her arms around herself, she dragged air into her lungs. “We shouldn’t have done that,” she informed him the instant she could speak.
“It was bound to happen, if only for curiosity’s sake.”
“Is your curiosity satisfied?”
“My curiosity’s satisfied. But it hasn’t done a damn thing for the rest of me.”
“No, it hasn’t done a damn thing for my rest, either.” She slid her hands across her face as though to scrub the lingering traces of passion from it. “I would like to go inside and change. Would you mind staying here for a few minutes so I might have some privacy?”
“Of course.”
He tormented himself a bit more by watching her wade from the lake before working off his libido with a long, hard swim. By the time he’d finished, all he could think about was food and sleep. Okay, he thought about Ariana, too. Most of all, he wondered how long it would take to talk her out of her first condition and into bed.
By the time he’d showered himself human again and changed into dry clothes, she had dinner prepared. “I’m not very good in the kitchen,” she warned.
“That makes two of us.”
She shrugged. “In that case, we’ll take turns poisoning each other.”
She’d done a reasonable job, punching up the canned soup with grated cheese, spinach, and roasted garlic. She’d also warmed up a loaf of bread and thrown together an olive oil and herb dipping sauce. Finally, she served them a salad topped with grilled chicken.
“I thought you said you didn’t cook well,” he commented as he polished off the last of the bread.
She lifted a shoulder. “You’ll see. It’s all downhill from here.”
He grinned. “That’s only because I fix dinner next.”
“You know, I’m discovering you have a very nice sense of humor,” she observed. “I like that about you. I worried during our negotiations because you were very…serious. Very autocratic.”
His grin faded. “Having a sense of humor doesn’t turn me into Marco.”
“And I’m not Caitlyn.” She shrugged again. “If we were honest, I think we’d both admit that we wouldn’t want it otherwise. Even though my grandmother adored your brother, she was concerned that I might fall in love with him.”
“I gather she didn’t like that idea.”
Ariana shook her head. “Not at all. She said he was all wrong for me. Charming, yes. A heart bigger than all of Italy, true. But he was missing something a husband should have.”
“And what’s that?” He couldn’t have stopped the question if his life depended on it.
“She said a woman should only marry someone who has a clear sense of right and wrong and that sliver of gray that divides the two. In that sliver lies compassion, she always claimed. It was a quality my grandfather had. Before we left for Verdonia, she told me she saw that sliver in you.”
He couldn’t think of a higher compliment, though he doubted Penelope would still be of that opinion if she knew the real reason he and Ariana had married. “I like the way your grandmother thinks.” He tilted his head to one side. “How did she end up in a wheelchair?”
“It was from a car accident. She and my grandfather went over an embankment on a remote mountain road while touring Germany. They weren’t located for two days. It was in all the newspapers at the time.”
He stared, shocked. “My God.”
“It was a hideous tragedy. My family kept the worst of the details from me, but I read copies of the reports on the Internet.” It took her a moment to continue. “They said my grandfather was thrown clear of the car, but was badly injured. He died shortly before the rescuers found them. If they’d gotten there sooner, he’d have survived.”
“And your grandmother?”
“She was trapped in the car. Her spine was damaged. She rarely speaks of the incident. I gather the only thing that kept her going was my grandfather. He couldn’t get to her and she couldn’t get to him, but they encouraged each other for those two days.”
It made him see Penelope in an entirely new light. “How old were you when it happened?”
“Just a year.”
“So, you don’t remember your grandfather?”
“No.”
He covered her hand with his. “I hope you’ll find time to get to know Primo. I realize it won’t be the same, but maybe you can get a feel for what it would have been like to have had a grandfather in your life.”
Tears welled up in her eyes. “Thank you. I’d like that, even if it’s only temporary.” She stood, strain showing on her face. “If you don’t mind, I think I’ll read for a little bit before turning in. It’s been a long day.”
“No problem.”
Silence descended on the cabin as night fell. The temperature dropped, bringing a refreshing coolness. When he finally decided to turn in he discovered that Ariana had fallen asleep on the love seat. He debated picking her up and carrying her to bed. But he couldn’t count on his self-control being strong enough to keep him from taking advantage of the situation. Stripping the blanket off the bed, he covered her with it. And then he turned away before he did something he’d regret.
The next several days passed in a similar manner. They ate, hiked, swam and threw fishing lines in the water. They told amusing stories about their family and discussed endless topics of interest. Lazz even managed to convince himself that their honeymoon getaway was spacious enough for two, though he noticed that they never stayed inside longer than absolutely necessary. Not while the bed remained the centerpiece of the cabin.
All the while they circled each other, pretending not to feel the sexual tension that grew with each passing hour of each passing day. It seemed to loom just over the horizon, like a storm rumbling in the distance. The worst hours were while he waited for Ariana to fall asleep on the love seat, hours during which he waged a private war to keep from scooping her up and putting an end to their stalemate.
Two days before they were scheduled to leave, he joined her on the stretch of imported sand by the lake. She sat curled up on a towel, hard at work on her sketch pad. He handed her a bottle of ice-cold water.
“Do you mind?” he asked, inclining his head toward her sketch pad.
“Not at al
l.” She handed it over, then cracked open the bottle and tilted back her head to take a long swallow of water.
Lazz forced himself to look away from that endless length of neck and the tantalizing curve of breast and focus on the drawings. There were page after page of them, mostly of the local flora and fauna. But his face had somehow found its way in there and in the most peculiar places. Peeking out from under a bush. In the spots of a fawn. On the tail of a fish. In the downy feathers of a duck. There was an irresistible whimsy to her art form that left him grinning.
“These are really outstanding. Very clever.”
“Thanks.”
“Have you ever thought of having a showing?”
She lifted a shoulder in a gesture that had become endearingly familiar over the past few days. “Not really.”
“Would your family frown on it?”
“It’s not that. It’s just…” She made a face. “My drawings aren’t to everyone’s taste.”
“Well, they’re to my taste.”
She held out her hand for her sketch pad. He started to pass it to her, but then surprised them both by taking her hand in his. The connection between them flared, hotter and stronger than ever before, mocking their efforts to keep it subdued. Lazz swore beneath his breath. He’d done everything he could to bury the attraction he felt, to keep it under control. But now it seemed to explode in great messy waves of need.
Ariana stiffened, as though sensing how close he’d come to the end of his restraint. “We can’t,” she whispered.
“Yes, we can. And yes, we will.”
“You say that as though I have no choice in the matter.”
“You have the choice of when and where. But this is going to happen. You know it. You just haven’t reconciled yourself to it yet.”
She snatched up her sketch pad and pencil. “We only have two more days, Lazz. We can hold out that long.”
“Possibly. But then what?” he pressed. “What happens when we return to San Francisco?”
“We’ll have more room.” She shot a frustrated glance at the cabin. “We won’t be living on top of each other like we are here. We can go our separate ways.”
“And at night? When we’re lying in bed filled with want?”
She shuddered, and he could see her teetering, poised on the verge of tumbling. With an exclamation of frustration, she tossed aside the bottle of water and shot to her feet. “I’m going for a walk.”
He slowly stood. “You do that.” He pulled one of the cell phones from his pocket and tossed it to her. “But I’ll still be here when you return. And so will that bed.”
Without a word, she spun on her heel and walked away. But this time she looked back. This time he saw the coming surrender.
Lazz checked his watch for the umpteenth time. Damn it. Ariana had been gone for hours, and a call had just come through warning of an impending storm. He shot an uneasy glance toward the sky. Threatening clouds gathered with unnerving speed, descending on the peaks of the surrounding mountains in a great, boiling mass, like an army preparing to sweep down and invade the valley below. Lightning shot through the bruise-colored center of the storm mass.
He reached for the cell phone that was a mate to Ariana’s and punched in her number again. The last half dozen times he’d tried, the call hadn’t gone through. No doubt it had something to do with the approaching storm. This time, he was in luck. The call connected.
“Lazz?” he heard Ariana’s voice say. He also realized she was speaking in Italian, a dead giveaway as to her emotional state. He could barely hear her through the static. But what he did hear had his blood turning to ice. “I’m lost.”
He spoke swiftly, not sure how long the connection would last. “What direction were you heading when you left?”
“Along the stream away from the cabin. After a while there was a path that cut off to the right. There were these really gorgeous purplish-blue flowers. I wanted to sketch them. I just kept following the flowers. Then I fell down an incline and twisted my ankle. When I climbed back out I couldn’t find the flowers or the path or the stream or anything.”
He could hear the incipient thread of panic weaving through her voice. “Leave your cell phone on,” he instructed. “I’ll call Tolken and see if he can get a GPS lock on—”
The connection cut out and Lazz swore. No signal and no time. He needed to find Ariana and fast. First things first. If she’d twisted her ankle he’d have to wrap it. Some food and water would be helpful if they were caught out in the storm. He could use one of the backpacks he’d noticed in the boathouse, along with a couple of the rain slickers stored there. She’d also be cold from either fear or shock, so a sweater wouldn’t be a bad idea. Five minutes later he had everything he needed, including a pair of flashlights and a compass.
Jogging around the lake, he hit the trail that paralleled the stream just as the first boom of thunder rumbled down the hillside like cannon fire. He picked up his pace, keeping a sharp eye out for the path Ariana had indicated. He found it less than a mile along. The flowers she’d described trembled beneath a gust of rain-laden wind, but he paused long enough to check his compass before continuing on. He took off again, watching the path for any section that tumbled down a hillside. Unfortunately, since they were in the mountains, there were endless drop-offs.
A quick glance behind warned that the storm would break soon. The sky turned nighttime dark, and a curtain of rain cut him off from where he’d left the path along the stream. The curtain marched steadily in his direction. He continued onward, calling Ariana’s name as he went.
Five minutes farther along he came across a grassy expanse covered in a colorful banquet of flowers. On the far side of the area, the grass ended abruptly in a steep bank, where dirt and rocks mixed with uprooted flowers cascaded into a deep ravine. There wasn’t a doubt in his mind that his wife had slid down the hillside into that dark pocket. He couldn’t say how he knew; he simply did.
“Ariana? Can you hear me?”
Overhead the storm broke, rain slamming against the ground so hard he couldn’t hear his own voice, let alone any response from Ariana. Cautiously, he climbed down into the ravine, slipping and sliding as the rain turned the dirt to an avalanche of mud. The instant he reached the bottom, his awareness of her grew stronger, along with the certainty that she’d been here not too long ago. He shone the flashlight around until he found the proof he needed, the spot where she must have landed. Part of a snapped pencil rested on top of a broken boulder, and the torn remnants of her sketch pad blew toward a narrow channel of water that cut the ravine in two.
After rescuing the sketch pad, he carefully circled the area a second time until he spotted where she’d climbed back out of the gully. Unfortunately, it was on the opposite side from where she’d fallen in, which explained why she’d been unable to find her way back to the stream.
He followed in Ariana’s footsteps. Below him, the ravine rapidly filled with water, the narrow channel that bisected the ravine becoming a churning river of mud, rock and mountain runoff. Worse, the rain was turning the loose dirt beneath his hands and feet into a mudslide that threatened to send him right back down the hillside. He had no idea how long it took him to work his way to the top. By the time he hauled himself over the ridge, he was up to his eyeballs in mud and soaked to the skin, despite his rain gear.
“Ariana?” he shouted. She was close. He could feel her now. Hell, he could practically taste her.
Above the sound of the rain, he heard her faint cry. “Here! I’m over here.”
The beam from his flashlight cut through the gloom and landed on her. His wife sat huddled at the base of a towering pine, her knees drawn tight to her chest and her arms wrapped around her legs. He broke into a run. When he reached her side, he didn’t say a word. He simply pulled her into his arms and kissed her.
Five
From: [email protected]
Date: 2008, August 05 10:34 PDST
To: Bam
[email protected]
Subject: Marriage Contract, Premarital Conditions…Next
Now that we’ve dealt with the public aspects of our marriage, perhaps we should deal with the private. Condition #4: No intermingling. We’ll keep our private lives separate on all levels…financial, physical, social, etc.
L.
From: [email protected]
Date: 2008, August 05 19:59 CEST
To: [email protected]
Subject: Re: Marriage Contract, Premarital Conditions…Next
I actually had to look up the word intermingling. Okay, okay. I get it. In public we are joined hips to lips. And in private, my high heels stay out of your closet.
Ciao! Ariana
One second Ariana’s mouth was cold and wet and the next it turned to liquid warmth. Lazz sank inward, driven to tell her without words everything he felt. Traces of his fear and concern made the kiss hard and urgent. He forked his hands into her damp hair while she met him kiss for kiss, the need for reassurance unrelenting.
Minutes slid by and the tenor changed, the embrace easing into a joyful mating. His relief at finding her alive and relatively unhurt blunted the edginess from moments before. It grew softer, gentler, as he drank his fill. Until passion pushed the kiss back into the danger zone.
The sharp crack of thunder and an answering sizzle of lightning brought him to his senses. Reluctantly, Lazz drew back. “Sit tight.”
“Trust me, I’m not going anywhere.”
Stripping off his slicker, he spread it across the branches directly above Ariana to provide some protection from the rain. He ducked beneath the temporary canopy and crouched beside her.
“How are you holding up?”
“I’m cold. Scared. I hurt my ankle when I fell. But other than that, I’m fine.” Her eyes were huge and dark in her pale face, and her gaze clung to his, practically eating him alive. “Better now that you’re here.”
“Let’s see what we can do to fix you up.” He opened his backpack and pulled out the sweater and the extra slicker he’d brought for her. Helping her to her feet, he spread the slicker on the wet ground directly under their makeshift canopy. “Take off your shirt.”