by Lisa Kessler
“Can I help?”
She nodded. “Yes, but we need someplace private.”
He guided her through the tables and into the alley.
Rita’s chest heaved as she struggled to catch her breath.
Anxious to assist her, he scooped her up and ran with a speed no mortal could achieve. When he lowered her feet to the ground at his stable, her eyes were wide with shock and her hands trembled. He cursed his carelessness.
“I should have warned you. Forgive me.”
She shook her head, tousling the curls that now drooped lower on her pale shoulders. Her chest heaved and she gasped, “I never dreamed anything could move so quickly.”
Attempting to distract her from the shock, he pointed to her dress. “Show me how I can help you breathe.”
She turned her back toward him. “Unfasten the buttons, and then loosen the corset.”
Carefully, he released each tiny pearl button. Unable to resist, he bent forward, pressing a kiss to the back of her bare shoulder. He felt her body tense, but she didn’t move away. His lips caressed the side of her slender neck and her head tilted, opening herself to his affections. Kane popped off the last of the annoying buttons and quickly worked the laces of the corset loose.
Rita’s moan of relief shot heat right to his groin. He wanted to hear her moan his name. She turned, smiling up at him as her dress threatened to expose her beautiful breasts.
“You should remind me why it would be a bad idea to lose myself in your arms.”
“I am the wrong man to ask.” He throbbed against the bindings of his pants, and reached up to cup her cheek.
“Here and now is all that matters tonight.”
She ran her hands up his chest, her nimble fingers making quick work of his buttons. He growled when her warm hands explored his bare chest. His eyes locked on hers. “You steal my will.”
Her lips curved into a sensual smile. “You are no match for Le Voleur D’or.”
He had no choice but to kiss her. Holding her tight, her lips parted, his tongue tasting her while he slid his hands up her back. Every curve of her body called to his desire. He wanted to touch and taste every inch of her.
But not in the barn.
He broke the kiss without loosening his hold on her.
“Not here. Your bedchamber.”
Her nod was all the consent he needed. Kane lifted her into his arms, forcing himself to walk while shuddering with need when her hot kisses caressed his chest. Once he had her alone in her bedchamber, he laid her gently onto the feather bed. Her golden hair fanned around her head, her lips swollen from his kisses, her cheeks flushed with color.
Marguerite watched him shed his coat and shirt. She’d already seen his chiseled chest, but now she could see his broad shoulders and the strength in his arms. Her pulse raced, and she wet her lips, waiting. His hands loosened the laces on the front of his pants until he could slide them off.
Her gaze ran up his tanned, muscular legs. She’d lain with more than one man, but never one so comfortable in his body. Instead of shame or modesty, he stood before her, his erection plainly displaying his desire for her. No secrets, no games. He offered her more honesty than any man she’d known.
His heated gaze never left her face as he lay down beside her. He kissed her lips slowly while she reached up, sliding the leather tie from his hair. His mane fell around them while his strong hands slid up her body, firmly molding every curve until she moaned into his kiss.
His touch set her skin on fire. She wanted no barriers between them.
She nipped at his lower lip, enjoying the gruff way he gasped her name. “My turn.”
Marguerite pulled back and got up from the bed.
Standing before him, for a brief moment, she felt a touch of modesty. She stared into his eyes, watching his expression for any sign of disgust or judgment for her unladylike behavior.
“You are beautiful, Rita.” He leaned up on his elbow, his tight abdomen contracting and drawing her eyes. When she looked at his face again, his lips carried the hint of a smile.
“That gown is nothing, a faded scrap, without you inside of it.”
Her heart pounded. She released her hold on the bodice, feeling the chill of the room when the fabric slowly exposed her body. She stepped away from the puddle of velvet finery at her feet, and instead of feeling self-conscious, she felt… empowered. Every bit as beautiful as Kane had said. She took a step closer to the bed, making him gaze up at her.
“You make me feel…” She ran her fingertips lightly up the smooth skin of her abdomen, struggling to find the words. “…worthy.”
Kane rose from the bed, standing so close she could almost feel his erection brush her skin, but he didn’t touch her. His gaze moved slowly over her face until his eyes met hers.
“You make me question…everything.” His lips brushed hers as he whispered, “You were made for the gods.”
His hand came up to caress her cheek, and she nuzzled into his touch. Kane bent toward her, kissing her lips, caressing, tasting. She breathed him in. No French cologne assaulted her, only the musky, masculine scent of his skin, like the forest after a thunderstorm.
Heat coiled inside her as his lips traveled down her neck. His fingertips brushed her waist, until his warm hands moved up her body. She arched her back, offering herself to his affections with wanton desire. A moan escaped her lips when he cupped her breast, his thumb teasing her already pert nipple.
His mouth seared her skin with sensual caresses. He moved even lower to take her breast into his mouth, his tongue circling her nipple. Her fingers tangled in the back of his hair, clutching him while heat spiraled through her body.
She tipped her head, letting her eyes drift closed, losing herself in passion. Kane kissed across her chest and slowly licked her other nipple, drawing a gasp from her lips.
“Look at me.” It was a command and a desperate request all in one rough whisper.
Marguerite tilted her head forward, her heavy lidded eyes meeting his gaze as he teased her breast with his tongue. Passion burned in his eyes, and coupled with the way his mouth fed on her flesh, her heart raced.
His other hand traveled lower, sliding up her inner thigh. Desire overcame all traces of modesty. Her hunger for release consumed her, and Kane promised that and more with every touch. She opened her stance for him, and saw a flash of his white teeth against her breast, a sexy smile curved on his lips.
“Yes, Rita.” He straightened and claimed her lips again as his fingers slid inside her.
She gasped his name into the kiss, her nails digging into his shoulders to keep from losing her balance. Her inner muscles throbbed around his fingers, her hips rocking into him faster. He kept coaxing, higher than she ever realized possible, until her entire body burned for him.
Slowly, his fingers withdrew and she moaned against his lips. “No. Kane, please.”
“Not yet.” He nipped at her bottom lip.
His kisses traveled down her chin, neck, and chest, caressing her navel, and then even lower. His strong hands slid over the curve of her rear and down the back of her legs until he knelt before her like a naked supplicant.
She wasn’t sure what was happening. Her body begged to be satisfied, yet he retreated.
His gaze held hers as he bent her leg, lifting it onto his shoulder. He brushed hot wet kisses along her inner thigh.
“You deserve no less than worship, Rita.”
Without warning, he pulled her closer, his mouth devouring her core. Her hands fisted in his hair as pleasure electrified her bloodstream, sending her rushing toward the edge of losing her body and mind to pure sensation.
He steadied her with one hand, the other sliding up her leg until his fingers slid inside of her. His tongue touched her, teased her, and finally, her entire body trembled with more pleasure than she’d ever known.
When she came back to herself, he’d already lowered her leg. Kane straightened, kissing her lips and holding her.
He lifted he
r into his arms and carried her to the bed. Once he rested over her, she opened her legs, allowing him to settle even closer. She cupped his face with a blissful smile.
“You are most definitely a god.”
Kane laughed, the sound making her heart flip inside her chest. He kissed her lips, murmuring, “This is the first time I have felt like one in centuries.”
He stared into her eyes, so much lighter than his own, and wanted to memorize this moment, having her in his arms, the taste of her passion on his lips. Refusing to allow himself to ponder beyond this night, he slid one hand down her leg, drawing it up to his hip. With his gaze locked on hers, Kane thrust his hips forward, sinking himself completely into her.
Her lips parted, and finally she moaned his name. She was made for him. How could he ever be satisfied with this one night? Eternity would not be long enough to enjoy her.
He nuzzled into her neck, teasing the soft skin just below her ear, lost in the heat of passion. Every demand from his hips, she answered, working into his thrusts. Rita dragged her fingernails up his back, hard. His bloodlust simmered, the jaguar inside growling. He wanted to savor her, but his grip on his control weakened with every thrust.
Her inner muscles tightened around him, tempting him, but before he surrendered to the passion, Rita rolled him over until she sat above him, straddling him. Her golden hair, mussed and loose around her face, seduced him.
Sliding his hands up her silky skin, he cupped the weight of her breasts as she took control, working herself along the length of his erection. Everything about this woman awakened his body, his soul. He’d never felt anything like it in his long life.
He wanted all of her, and he wanted her to be a part of him. Her body alone would never be enough.
Kane gripped her hips, working himself into her hard, watching the passion rise on her face. Sliding one hand between them, he rubbed and teased her until he felt her body clench around him, dragging him over the peak with her until he erupted deep inside of her.
Rita collapsed onto his chest with an exhausted smile.
He brushed her hair back behind her ear, and caught himself wishing for more hours in the night. Was it just the night before that he’d pledged to be more careful and not grow too fond of her? Her mortality would make his eternity unbearable if he allowed himself to become attached. For the past millennia, he’d been careful to live apart from humanity’s emotional entanglements, avoiding their brief moments on this earth.
Protecting himself.
Rita lifted her head from his chest. Her flushed skin, mussed hair, and blissful smile made his chest tighten. He reached up to cup her cheek.
She turned and kissed his palm. “May I ask you something?”
“Anything.”
Her fingertips traced the crescent-shaped scar on the left side of his chest. “Who did this?”
His hand covered hers, pressing it over the smooth scar.
“I fought a demon who threatened my people. She nearly tore my heart from my chest.”
He closed his eyes and a flash of memory seized him—wrestling with the demon in the jungle, fighting to save his brothers and his people. A battle he would never win.
Rita’s lips brushed his cheek, pulling him back to the present. “I did not mean to bring up painful memories.”
“The demon was the beginning of the end for my people.
She is the reason I came to France.” Rita rested her head back on his chest, and he leaned up to kiss her hair. “She cannot be killed, only caged. I never should have attacked her, but I had to do something. My anger made the decision for me.”
“Does she still pursue you?”
He shook his head letting his eyes drift closed. “No. We trapped her deep beneath the Yucatan jungle. She can no longer cross into the world of man.”
“So you saved us all.”
The shadow of loss twisted in his abdomen and the ghost of failure taunted him. “It was our duty as gods. We should have figured out how to stop her sooner, perhaps we could have saved more lives and been able to stand against the Spanish.”
“Cortez attacked your people.”
“Yes. My brothers and I were forced to separate and take the memories of the Maya with us to the four corners of the earth.”
“A witness to their existence.”
He kissed her hair. “We continue on as shadows of what we were.”
He held her close, admiring the way her body fit into his arms. When her breathing slowed into sleep, he carefully rolled over, laying her onto the bed and pulling up the bedding to cover her. His lips caressed her forehead, and he stood. Bitterness spread through him. He didn’t want to leave her.
Ever.
The thought sobered him. He pulled on his pants and quietly left the room. When he reached his office, he groaned.
Gerard had tidied his desk again.
Kane sat down, shuffling the neat stacks of paper around in search of his ink well. Candlelight filled the hallway as Gerard approached.
“I did not mean to wake you.” Kane didn’t look up from his desk when Gerard entered the room.
“Can I assist you?”
Kane sighed and finally glanced up at his drowsy manservant. “I truly wish that you could.”
Gerard placed his candle on the corner of the desk and sat in the chair facing Kane. “Did you enjoy your evening with the lady?”
Kane sat back in his chair. “She baffles me. I have never in my life wished for more time. In fact, saying it aloud sounds ludicrous. But when I am with her, I want time to stop. I want to learn everything about her so that I will always know how to make her smile. I want to protect her and give her everything.”
Gerard grinned, the corners of his eyes wrinkling, betraying his age. “It sounds like love to me.”
Kane shot up in surprise, sending the chair toppling over behind him. “Love?” He started pacing the room like his jaguar paced inside of his underground sanctuary. “There is no room in my existence for love.”
Gerard stood and retrieved his candle. “Love will find a way.” He walked toward the door. “Your inkwell is in the top right drawer. And Monsieur?”
Kane stopped, glancing over at Gerard.
“Mademoiselle Rousseau seems lovely…different from the ladies who usually seek to court your favor.”
Kane nodded, lost in thought. “I have never met another woman like her.”
Gerard gave a small bow and disappeared down the hall.
Kane righted his chair and found his inkwell where Gerard said it would be. He dipped the tip of his pen and quickly wrote his letter.
Outside, the sky lightened as the sun threatened to end the night. Kane made his way down the hall, sliding the note under her door.
He didn’t trust himself to peer inside the room. Leaving her once tonight had been more than enough.
Lifting the stone from the floor of his bedroom, he retreated into the darkness below his home.
Chapter Eight
Rita stretched in the soft bed. Her body felt sore, and the memory of making love to Kane warmed her all over again. For the first time in years, she felt cherished and safe.
Although she knew Kane would be gone, hiding from the sun, she still caught herself wishing the rest of the bed wasn’t empty.
Pulling a shift over her head, she wrapped herself in a heavy robe and went to the door. A crease marked her forehead as she bent to pick up the folded note that bore her name. She opened it and smiled, seeing Kane’s name signed at the bottom.
Dearest Rita –
I wish I could be with you when you open your eyes.
You make me wish for many things.
Until nightfall…
Kane
She folded the note, trying to keep from noticing the way her heart flipped while she read his words. She’d given him one night. She wouldn’t allow herself to imagine there could be more. There was almost enough gold to take her cousin and flee from Antoine forever. Giving up now was ou
t of the question.
Marguerite placed the note on her bureau with a wistful sigh.
There was much to do.
Turning her back on romance, she opened the door. The scent of fresh bread assaulted her senses until her stomach grumbled. A smile pulled at her lips when she neared the dining area and heard Gerard and his wife sparring in the kitchen.
“If you know so much about croissants, perhaps you should be the one folding the dough.”
Gerard’s laughter echoed. “I am wise enough to stay out of your way in the kitchen. I only mentioned adding the fruit compote as a suggestion.”
“If I wanted to make a tart, I would make a tart.” She burst through the door and stopped short when she noticed Marguerite at the table. “Forgive me, Mademoiselle. I hope we did not wake you.”
“Mais non, you did not.” Marguerite shook her head.
“It was the delicious scent of fresh croissants that awakened me.”
Gerard’s wife was shorter than Marguerite, with a sturdy stance and a wide smile, her graying hair tied up in a bun. She clasped either side of her flour-dusted apron with her strong hands and curtsied. “I am pleased to meet you, Mademoiselle. I am Marie.” She shot Gerard a playful glare.
“I believe you already met my husband.”
“Oui.” Marguerite bowed her head toward her. “I am honored to meet you, Marie.”
Part of her ached inside. These people had been kind to her. What would they think after she abandoned their Master? She buried her emotions deep. There wasn’t time to dwell on disappointment for what could never be. Callia depended on her to stay the course.
Marie grinned and bustled back into the kitchen, returning with a fresh, flaky croissant and a kettle of tea. A knock at the front door had Gerard rushing off to answer it, while Marguerite took a bite of her croissant, swooning as the buttery layers caressed her taste buds.
Her bliss was short-lived.
“I must insist you wait until my Master returns.”
Marguerite and Marie looked up at the sound of Gerard’s stern tone.
A stranger answered. “We have a legal warrant for the arrest of Marguerite Rousseau.”