Immortal Hope: The Curse of the Templars

by Claire Ashgrove

  Anne giggled again, unable to stop the sound from escaping. Damn. Whoever found him would have a hell of a time keeping him in line. A shame Sophie wasn’t here to see this knight. He’d match her beat for beat. She might even learn a new trick or two.

  In the far corner of her field of vision, she noticed Merrick fold his arms over his chest. Feet spread apart, his wide stance gave him an intimidating air. A little shiver of delight trickled down Anne’s spine. Charming as Gareth might be, he would never embody the meaning of knight the way Merrick did. Merrick must have been a formidable foe on the battlefield. One look at the firm set of his jaw, the brittleness of his unyielding stare—she couldn’t imagine anyone giving him much of a fight.

  His grin still intact, Gareth inclined his head toward Merrick. “Let us move forward so I may whisk you off and away from my churlish brother.”

  “Indeed.”

  Merrick grunted.

  Gareth pulled his shirt from his black jeans and lifted it up, exposing a hard, flat abdomen covered with a fine shadow of golden hair. What made Anne suck in her breath, however, wasn’t the rigid muscles running the length of his torso, but the deep scar that ran from one rib to the opposite hip.

  “Aye, ’tis not pretty. But you will notice it bears the distinct form of a cross.”

  She squinted to get a better look. Sure enough, a faint pink mark, half the length of the first, neatly divided the longer bar. “What happened?” she murmured.

  The blond knight chuckled. “’Tis naught but a childhood accident. The result of brothers who chanced upon their father’s swords when they were too young for more than wooden toys.”

  “I see.”

  Anne picked up her pen and scribbled Gareth’s mark in her notebook. When she lifted her head to give him her sweetest smile, she grimaced inwardly at the brightness in his eyes. She would squelch that light in a moment. If she only had a list of matching marks this would be so much easier. She could refuse, then point these men toward their respective women, and she wouldn’t feel so damn guilty.

  “Well, sir knight, I disagree. That’s not an ugly mark. It’s quite handsome. I am sure it will earn you some…” She paused, dropped her lashes, and lowered her voice. “Entertaining sympathy.”

  Gareth’s shoulders shook with unspent laughter. To Anne’s relief, where she expected his bright gaze to dim, those brown eyes lighted even more. “Say no more, milady. ’Twill not be your sympathy I enjoy.”

  Anne shook her head.

  He snapped his heels together, set one hand over his midsection, and offered her a formal bow. Straightening, the adorable dimple puckered his left cheek. “Then allow me to remove myself before Sir Merrick plants his fist into my jaw.”

  Anne heard, rather than saw, the fury in Merrick’s response. A hiss escaped his clenched teeth. He stalked to the door and jerked it open.

  In a moment of sheer daring, Anne stood. She caught Gareth’s hand, and mimicking what she’d seen in movies a dozen times, she gave him an awkward curtsy. With absolute sincerity, she said, “I do hope your lady arrives soon. It’s been lovely meeting you, Gareth. I hope to see you soon.” Punctuating her heartfelt wishes, she pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek.

  “Indeed.” He turned with a one-handed wave, and strode through the door.

  As the next man neared the threshold, Merrick kicked the door shut with his heel. “Enough,” he barked.

  Anne had completely forgotten her intent to make him jealous. Her mouth dropped open. Eyes wide, she stared.

  Merrick marched across the room, closing the distance between them. His hands clamped into her shoulders, and he gave her a little shake. “I hope to see you soon?” he mocked.

  Wow. She hadn’t been acting with Gareth, but whatever she’d done, she’d pushed the wrong buttons. Merrick looked mad enough to throttle her. Reflexively, she took a step backward.

  He followed. “Do you, Anne? Do you hope to see that fair-haired youth again?”

  Anne swallowed hard, the effect of her flirtations hitting her like a tsunami’s swell. She’d accomplished jealousy. But at what price? Had she gone too far? She scrambled to hold on to her courage, to shake off the immediate desire to answer no. If she told him the truth, they’d be right back where they were an hour or so ago, he standing guard while she inspected marks. Now wasn’t the time to concede. Now she had to somehow land the victor’s blow.

  She fought for control over her voice and asked, “Does it matter?”

  Merrick’s jaw worked in a terrible fit to keep his temper in line. His fingers tightened on her shoulders, his grip near painful. She backed up to relieve the pressure of his hands, but Merrick refused to let her go. His body chased hers until her back rammed into the post on his bed, jarring the wind out of her. She let out a startled squeak.

  Merrick let go as if she’d burned him. His gaze seared into her, those dark eyes hard and filled with tumult. “Aye,” he growled. “It matters.” He took another step closer, pinning her between his body and the bedpost. Reaching for a lock of her hair, he twined it around his finger and lowered his voice. “Should you kiss another man in front of me again, I will tear him into pieces.”

  Anne’s heart flip-flopped like a fish out of water. Her lungs squeezed together so tightly she could hardly breathe. She struggled with the cacophony of thoughts that screamed inside her head. What now?

  Her tormented knight supplied the answer. “Kiss me, Anne,” he murmured. “Let me feel the softness that keeps me awake at night.”

  Oh God. Her legs threatened to give out, his words powerful enough to make her light-headed. She pushed aside a jumble of untamed ebony waves to touch the side of his face. “I thought you didn’t want me.”

  The groan that rumbled in the back of Merrick’s throat shot straight to her heart. He closed his eyes as if anguished by her words, and when he opened them again, they glowed with such intensity she shivered. Gone was the gleam of anger, replaced by the fire of desire. He brought a hand between them, nimble fingers deftly releasing the buttons on her sweater. “Aye, I want you. I want to sink so deep inside you I forget all reason. I want to hear you cry my name as you come, so loudly every man within this temple hears. Make no mistake about it, damsel, this want of you plagues me so I despise myself.”

  Sweet heaven on earth. She’d never heard anything more honest. Anything so raw. Heat ripped through her veins, flooded over her body, and settled between her thighs. In a heartbeat’s passing, she was damp, her body aching to fulfill the promise in his confession.

  Merrick didn’t give her a chance to find a response. His mouth crashed into hers. One firm nudge of his lips parted hers, and he ravished her mouth with abandon. He brought his other hand between their bodies, doing away with the buttons on her sweater in seconds. A firm tug pulled the garment down her arms, over her wrists. He tossed it aside carelessly. Sliding his hands around her ribs, he freed the fastener at her back and discarded her bra as if it were some despicable thing.

  Palms roughened from years of combat scraped pleasantly against her skin as he cupped her breasts. His hands were warm, his fingers gentle despite the feral hunger of his kiss. Her nipples beaded beneath his thumbs, and she arched her back with a murmur of pleasure.

  Tearing his mouth away, Merrick gazed down at her, his eyes searching her face. No, her mind screamed. He couldn’t stop this again. She’d break down and beg if he took his hands away. This would happen. It had to, or she’d go crumble into pieces. “Don’t stop, Merrick,” she managed through her dry throat. She added on a whisper, “Please.”

  Merrick shook his head slowly, the magic of his hands unfaltering. “Nay. I am not stopping.” Hoarse and thick, his voice held torment. “Wrong it may be, but I can no longer fight this. I will choose shame and disgrace if it eases the ache that consumes me.” His onyx eyes flashed with something she couldn’t recognize. It reached in deep, wound its claws around her heart, and held on tight. Quietly, he murmured, “Touch me, Anne.”

>   When she obeyed by lifting her hands to the center of his chest and exploring the hard planes of his body with her fingertips, he sucked in a sharp breath. She glided downward, pulled the jersey free from his jeans to slide her hands beneath. His skin burned, the muscles in his abdomen jumped beneath her fingers. She watched in fascination as his eyes closed, his hands utterly still against her breasts. His chest rose and fell as his breathing became hard, and as she spanned her fingers over his heart, it thudded against her palm.

  “Your hands hold magic,” he whispered.

  He released her and the incredible warmth disappeared. She opened her mouth to protest, to forbid him to take his hands away. Yet Merrick silenced her words when he tugged his shirt over his head. He opened his fingers, letting it fall to the floor. She reached for him, yearning for the contact of skin to skin. To feel his heartbeat against hers.

  Merrick caught her first. His arms wound around her waist, dragged her flush against his body. The moment of tenderness passed as his mouth found hers, and he delved in deep to plunder and master. He dominated Anne. His hands, his kisses, his thighs, his legs trapped her, bent her to his wishes. She surrendered with no more protest than a dandelion offered a crisp breeze.

  Strong hands cupped her buttocks, ground her hips into his. The hard ridge of his erection rubbed over her sensitive feminine nub, shooting a streak of fire down her spine. She held on to his shoulders, the tremble that possessed her threatening to topple her over. He steadied her with his body, offering the safety her senses desperately needed. Anne turned her head, breaking their kiss to draw in much needed air.

  But Merrick’s mouth was unrelenting. His lips scored down her neck, his teeth grazed into her shoulder. Where he nipped, he eased the painful pinch with a swirl of his tongue, each moist caress eroding her ability to think. To comprehend.

  In one effortless sweep, he maneuvered her into his arms and laid her on his bed. His body followed, blanketing her in warmth. He fit against her like molten wax. Where he was hard, she was soft. Where her body curved, his narrowed. To think she’d once thought he was too big. Now she couldn’t imagine anyone more perfect.

  His mouth dusted across her collarbone, the warmth of his breath prickling her skin with goose bumps. He shifted to delve the tip of his tongue between the valley of her breasts, and Anne speared her fingers through his hair. He flicked his tongue over a turgid nipple, provoking her into a whimper that transformed into a low moan when he drew the hardened bud into his mouth and gently suckled.

  As he repeated the splendor on her opposite breast, he rolled them onto their sides, his hands coming around to pull the zipper at the back of her skirt. The lightweight material fell apart, cool air washing across the small of her back, then lower when he pushed it past her hips. Shifting them once more, Merrick trailed his mouth downward, grazed her ribs with his teeth. He dipped the tip of his tongue into her belly button and nipped the tender skin beneath.

  She didn’t know how, but her skirt no longer hindered her legs, and as Merrick’s breath washed heat across her inner thigh, he tugged off her boots with one hand. Anne flattened her feet on the mattress, denying him the ability to remove her opaque nylon socks. She lifted her hips, guided his mouth closer to her aching center.

  The kiss he pressed to her panties teased her out of her mind. Her womb clamped down tight, moisture flooded between her thighs. He pulled at the thin straps around her hips and eased her thong down her legs. It got caught, the spread of her knees too wide, thwarting Merrick’s seeking lips. Before she could flatten her legs to accommodate his desires, he let out a mutter, grabbed the flimsy fabric with both hands, and with a firm tug, snapped both spaghetti straps.

  Anne almost giggled, but her humor vanished when he settled himself between her knees, and slid the tip of his tongue between her moistened flesh. On a ragged gasp, she jerked up into him, her fingers fisting against his scalp. He tossed one heavy arm across her abdomen, pinning her to the bed.

  Slow, lazy strokes pushed her to the edge of abandon. She squirmed and writhed, the need to feel him deep sheer torment. “Merrick,” she rasped. The plaintive whisper turned into a soft cry as he answered by delving his tongue into her opening. Pleasure flooded through her body, carried her high on swells and tides. She bit down on her lower lip until she tasted the coppery tang of blood. With a toss of her head, she tugged on his hair, wanting the length of him, not the ecstasy of his masterful mouth. “Merrick, please.”

  Her plea was useless. He ignored it. In fact, he devoted himself even more thoroughly and brought his fingertips into play. Caressing her sensitive nub with his thumb, delving in and out of her with his tongue, he commanded her surrender. Rapture built, roared through her veins like fire on a sun-baked field, then consumed her. She cried out, her body trembling.

  CHAPTER 21

  The exquisiteness of Anne’s features as they turned soft with her release shook Merrick to the core. She breathed through lips that were swollen from his kisses. Her long lashes dusted over cheeks that flushed with color. But the sound of her voice had unraveled him further than the bliss that crossed her face. He held himself on shaking arms, his body as rigid as stone, afraid if he moved one fraction and touched the silken skin beneath him, he would not be able to control himself any longer.

  Sucking in great gulps of air through flared nostrils, he beat his desire into submission long enough to rid himself of the rest of his clothing. Freed from the denim constraints, his cock jutted forth, so swollen with need he ached. It had been a mistake to bring her to release whilst he watched. Though he had sought to prolong her pleasure, he had nearly discovered his own long before he was ready to succumb.

  He nudged her knees apart with his shoulders and eased himself between her dampened thighs. “Forgive me, Anne,” he murmured. In one hard thrust, he slid within her.

  As her swollen flesh gripped him tight, Merrick forgot how to breathe. He tried to pull in air, but his throat clamped closed and his chest constricted. His cock pulsed. His head swam. Saints’ blood, he had not known such incredible feeling could exist. Closing his eyes against the wealth of sensation that flooded through him, he waited for the spasm to pass. To find his faculties once more.

  Anne would have none of it. She lifted her hips and wrapped her legs around his waist. Her hot flesh clenched and released, each grip taking him deeper until he touched the mouth of her womb.

  On a hoarse groan, he surrendered. He dove into her mouth and let her honeyed flavor claim his senses. God’s teeth, she tasted so heavenly. ’Twas as if he had waited centuries for this moment.

  Nay … for her.

  Their sweat-slicked bodies slipped and rubbed, Anne guiding his hips with the rocking of her body, all thoughts of gentleness things of the past. He could no more seek to draw this joining out than he could attempt to speak, she overwhelmed him so. He had known she would be bold. The moment she had kicked him in the shin, he had realized her spirit. But he had not anticipated she possessed the ability to render him senseless.

  She wound her arms around him, clinging tighter. Her nipples stabbed into his chest. Her breath came hard and fast, the sound of her panting an echo of his own. Ecstasy sizzled down Merrick’s spine. It built to intolerable heights, and his world ruptured. Pleasure burst free, so intense it threatened to fragment him into a million pieces.

  He let out a hoarse cry and gathered Anne tight against him as he spilled himself into her.

  “Merrick,” she murmured, her body following his bliss. Around his shaft, her sex fluttered. Her nails scored into his shoulders, her legs weakening their hold as she found release.

  With the sound of his name came the unraveling of something so deep inside his soul he could not name it. A flicker of bright light, a warmth that had no words. All he knew was that Anne awakened it, and as he lifted his head to gaze at her enraptured features, it spread through him with a wildfire’s intensity.

  For one precious moment where time stood still, the chains of
darkness that bound him in despair released their hold.

  Spent and exhausted, he sank into her embrace. Anne dusted her mouth across his shoulder, her fingernails trailing lightly down his spine. He nuzzled the side of her neck. For several long moments, they lay tangled together, heaving in great gasps as they tried to reclaim control over their breathing.

  When the shaking in Merrick’s limbs receded, he lifted to one elbow and pushed a dampened auburn lock of hair away from Anne’s face. “You are more beautiful than any maid should be.”

  The flush of her cheeks pleased him. Bold though she might be, she was still deeply feminine, and still as vulnerable to praise as any shy maiden. He let out a chuckle, and rolled onto his back, carrying her with him. “Little demon Anne, sent to torment me.”

  Her lighthearted smile made his heart thump hard. She settled her cheek against his chest, splayed her fingers over his heart. “Merrick, that was incredible.”

  Aye, it had been.

  Nibbling on her lower lip in hesitation, she turned her face up to his. “Is it…” Her cheeks assumed a deep crimson color. “I guess I should have asked before. We didn’t use any protection.”

  “I cannot give you any sickness, Anne.” He closed his eyes, resentment stabbing into him for all the things he had once desired and could no longer dream of. He dropped his voice, hating the truth he must confess. “Nor can I sire children.”

  “Oh.” A silent heartbeat passed between them. Then, with a smile, she rubbed her cheek against his chest. “Well good. Nothing to regret then.”

  A sliver of guilt worked its way through his sated comfort. He had taken what did not belong to him, and not once had he considered his oaths. He had no right to feel this happiness that brimmed in his veins.

  Anne nestled closer, slipped her leg through his. Molded to his side, she was warm, the exploration of her fingertips across his belly, enticing. His blood stirred in response. God’s teeth, he hungered for her again.

  Merrick cast aside the shame that threatened to engulf him and drew his fingers through Anne’s long hair. He would think on his transgressions later. For the moment, he had more important concerns.