Of course, there wasn’t anything like Ian in Denver, either.
* * *
“Ian?”
Her soft voice floated down the stairs and he looked up. She waited at the top of the landing, like a child too frightened for bed.
A child with the face and body of a Faerie seductress.
He groaned at the amount of skin exposed by her little shorts and T-shirt. At her tousled curls begging for his touch. At her lips…
No.
She needed him for an entirely different reason than the one he was contemplating right now. He joined her on the landing, taking her hand and leading her back into the room. He flipped off the light and led her over to the bed.
“Aren’t you going to change out of your tux?”
Big innocent eyes reflecting the moonlight that shone through the window regarded him as he tucked her into bed and climbed in beside her, she huddled under the covers, he sitting on top of them.
“This is fine, for now.”
He’d taken off his jacket and tossed away the tie, loosening the top buttons of his shirt in the process. That was enough. He needed the protection of his modern-day armor for the coming battle.
Clear your mind. Stay focused on the task at hand. He placed his arm around her and she snuggled against him, falling asleep almost immediately. He looked down at her face, calm and serene in sleep. Touchable. Kissable.
He would not let his thoughts go there. She needed only comfort and protection from him on this night. Nothing more. He’d give her that, and only that, even if killed him.
And at this moment, it felt as though it very well might.
Seventeen
She was trapped, unable to move.
Sarah came awake with a jerk. After her last forty-eight hours, she fully expected the worst when she opened her eyes.
What she found was about as far from the worst as she could possibly imagine.
Ian’s face was only inches from hers, his lips parted slightly in sleep. His darkly shadowed cheeks, so freshly shaved last night, seemed to call out for her touch. When she tried to lift her hand to give in to that touch, she smiled, recognizing what had caused her to dream of being trapped.
One large muscled arm and an equally muscled leg draped across the bedding covering her body. She hadn’t just dreamed of being trapped—she was! But it was by the most pleasant of bindings.
Unable to do anything else, she closed her eyes and enjoyed the feel of his body wrapped around hers. She inhaled deeply, allowing his clean masculine aroma to fill her senses. After years of trying to avoid touching others, for the first time she could remember her mind cried out at her current inability to touch, at this unaccustomed lack of sensory input. She wanted to free her hands from the blankets that bound her, to run them over his skin, to know what he felt. To feel what he felt.
She opened her eyes and found him watching her, a little smile playing around his attractive mouth.
“Good morning.” She waited for him to respond, but he said nothing.
His smile grew, lighting his eyes until, at last, he lowered his lips to hers, claiming them.
“Yer a fair bonny sight for a man to wake up to.”
Her heart pounded and she tried to calm herself enough to answer.
“You aren’t so bad yourself.” It was intended to be light and playful, but it sounded much too breathless for that. Blame it on her heart, beating much too fast. Surely he could feel it pounding, even through the pile of blankets pinning her beneath him.
He silently watched her eyes for a long moment, then kissed the tip of her nose and rolled off of her and out of bed.
“Climb out of there and get yerself going. By the time you make it out of the shower, I’ll have a lovely pot of coffee waiting downstairs.” With that, he walked out, shutting the door behind him.
Good Lord. First he melts her insides and turns her legs to jelly, then he expects her to get up and shower.
Oh well. At least coffee would be waiting for her downstairs.
Coffee and Ian.
How could it get any better than that?
* * *
Ian stared at the stream of dark liquid flowing into the glass carafe, but his mind wasn’t focused on the little machine or even on the fragrant brew it created for him. His thoughts had traveled upstairs, hovering outside the steamy little room from which the sounds of running water issued.
When had he become so indecisive, so reluctant to lay claim to what he felt was his?
Rolling off Sarah, leaving her bed this morning without answering the need he saw shining in her eyes, had been one of the most difficult things he’d ever done. He had wanted her desperately.
He wanted her still.
Was there any way to reconcile the two halves of his life? He was sworn to be a Guardian, but the call to be with Sarah was like nothing he had ever known. The desire to protect her, to possess her was overpowering. In her arms, he forgot everything, wanted for nothing, knew peace at last.
It was as if she were his Soulmate.
The one intended for him had been lost during one of the final battles on the Mortal Plain over six hundred years ago. An innocent young girl he’d barely known, her soul ripped away by an unfated death at the hands of a Nuadian renegade seeking to prolong his own miserable life.
Ian closed his eyes and hung his head, willing his mind not to replay the horrors. Those souls forced from their hosts before their time were shattered and hurled into chaos. Many never made it back to the Fountain of Souls to be reborn. It had happened so often during those times. So many soul couplings broken for all eternity.
In the centuries since, he had never once backed away from a battle or shirked his duty. Never once doubted his destiny. Never once doubted he would spend his eternity alone as a Guardian, protecting other people’s Soulmates.
Until Sarah entered his life.
And now…he doubted. Doubted his destiny, his path, himself.
He poured a cup of freshly brewed coffee, watching the ripples that formed in the liquid as the last drop hit.
It could be he struggled with this demon doubt for no reason. She might yet refuse him. She could turn her back on him, walk away, and all this internal battle would be for nothing.
He glanced up as the sound of running water stopped. He set his cup on the counter and headed for the stairs.
There was one way to know for sure. One way to end the doubt.
* * *
Sarah took the oversized white towel from the heated stand and wrapped it around her body, tucking the corner into the top above her breasts. The thick terry cloth was soft and warm and felt wholly self-indulgent. She was going to look for one of those racks when she got home.
She tugged at the smaller towel she had placed about her wet hair before she climbed from the shower and, bending over from the waist, used it to scrub at the moisture in her hair.
When the bathroom door opened, she jerked upright, stumbled backward and would have fallen into the tub if not for Ian’s quick grab.
“What are you doing in—”
He cut her question short by pulling her to his chest and covering her mouth with his own. After a moment, she didn’t care that she hadn’t finished her question; she was no longer interested in whatever his answer might have been.
Her only thoughts were of him and the way he felt. Of how badly he wanted her. Of how badly she wanted him.
He held her tightly to him as his kiss moved from her mouth to her chin to her neck.
“Sarah,” he whispered, his breath heating the droplets of water that trickled down her neck.
She had every intention of answering, but her only response was a breathless moan. It was enough.
He covered her mouth again, his tongue demanding the entrance she had no desire to deny him.
One arm slid down and under her legs, and he swept her from her feet, their kiss remaining unbroken as he carried her from the bathroom to the bed they’d shared platonic
ally the night before. This time when he laid her down, he covered her not with blankets, but with his body.
She should be worried about what her wet hair was doing to the pillow under her head, but she didn’t really care.
Couldn’t care when he caught at the corner of her towel and lifted it. The wrap gave way and loosened, sliding down under the guidance of his hand, his skin warm against the wet chill of her own.
Couldn’t think as he lowered his head and blew on the drips that trickled from her hair to her breast before lapping them up with his tongue.
“Oh my God, Ian. What are we doing?”
“What we were born to do,” he whispered before running his tongue up the side of her neck, capturing more water droplets.
He still wore his dress shirt from the night before, the top few buttons undone as they had been when he’d joined her in bed. As she’d drifted off to sleep, she’d marveled at how sexy that looked, how she’d like to undo the remaining buttons.
Her fingers trembled as she reached for those buttons now. She grappled with the tiny bits of plastic, irritated that the buttonholes seemed to hide in the decorative tucks running down the front. When she tugged at the cloth, and growled in frustration, he pulled up and away, rising above her to his knees, straddling her body.
He grasped the front of his shirt with both hands and ripped it open. The tiny buttons made little clicking sounds as they rebounded off the wall and the bedposts, headed for who knew where. Next his tattered shirt sailed through the air to join the buttons somewhere on the floor.
The sight took her breath away. She’d written just such a scene in one of her books, but her words were nothing compared to reality. It was magnificent. He was magnificent.
She reached for his waist, her fingers fumbling at his zipper, but he stopped her, his hands closing over hers, pressing her against the hard length of him.
“I dinna think so, luv.” He grinned down at her. “I’m a wee bit excited, so we’ll be wanting to let the metal down verra carefully. It’s perhaps best I do that.”
“Okay, you do it.” She tightened her fingers around the bulge that strained against her hand, slowly rubbing down and back up again. The bulge twitched and grew even larger under her touch. “But you’d better hurry.”
It seemed like only seconds before his pants joined the tattered shirt somewhere off the side of the bed.
He gently slid one arm under her back, lifting and supporting her weight as he pulled the towel from around her and tossed it away.
“Christ, but yer a beauty.” He ran his hand slowly across her stomach and over her hip.
“Hardly. I’m sure you’ve seen more…”
“Shh.” He stopped her with a finger to her lips. “Dinna ever doubt what I tell you, woman.”
Opening her lips, she nibbled at the finger with her teeth before running her tongue down the length of it. At his groan, she took the finger into her mouth, sucking hard.
“It’s a dangerous thing, to tease a man like that, luv,” he rasped, but didn’t move his hand.
She smiled her answer, switching to a second finger, nibbling and sucking as before.
His growl made her giggle. A giggle that quickly died in her throat when he moved over her, his tongue tracing along the side of her breast before taking her nipple into his mouth. His tongue swirled around and around, and then he began to suck, all in an exact imitation of what she’d done to him. Every nerve in her body tingled in response.
“Ohh,” she sighed. This was unbelievably wonderful. He continued on to the other breast, repeating the process as she felt a need growing in her depths.
He moved his hands down her sides to her hips and then under, grasping her thighs and lifting as he slid his body into place over hers.
She locked her ankles behind his back, marveling at how he fit against her body so perfectly.
“Sarah,” he whispered as she looked into his eyes, so dark she almost thought she could see her reflection there.
He kissed her, soft and tender little kisses, over and over as he slowly rocked his swollen head against her sensitized opening, stroking and building the need in her.
“Sarah,” he breathed against her skin before running the tip of his tongue around her ear, sucking on the lobe as he eased himself just barely into her opening.
He stopped, held himself still, moving no farther.
She grabbed his shoulder, tried to push herself against him, but he held her firmly in place.
“Patience, luv. We’ll get there.” Though his words were calm, his voice sounded strained.
“No patience,” she panted. Now now now now now! her brain screamed.
He chuckled and moved a fraction forward before withdrawing.
She gasped, digging her fingers into his arms.
When he entered the next time, he pressed farther before withdrawing.
She actually moaned, the loss felt so great.
As he entered again, he slid his hands down under her bottom and pulled her to him, plunging himself deeply into her body. He stilled, breathing heavily as he held her close, raining gentle kisses on her face, over her eyelids and back to her lips.
She trembled from the sheer joy of it.
He withdrew, but only part of the way now, driving back into her again.
She tightened her legs around him, lifting to meet his next thrust.
His pace increased, as if in tune to the frenzy building inside her body. Over and over until the tension built to a breaking point. And as she broke, all the little muscles in her body clenching and tightening around him, carrying her to a place of ecstasy where she’d never been before, she heard him whisper again.
“My Sarah.”
Then he found his own release and collapsed beside her, pulling her close to him, kissing her still damp hair as she buried her face against his chest.
* * *
Never, not once in his entire life, had he experienced anything even close to that.
Ian tightened his hold on the woman in his arms.
He no longer doubted. She was meant to be his. His to love, his to cherish, his to protect.
Her protection was his first priority. He would take her back to Thistle Down, where she would be safe. Then he would figure out what he needed to do next, how he would deal with this discovery.
“Sarah?”
“Mm?”
Her vague little noise and satisfied expression filled him with joy, sent the juices of victory flowing through his body.
“We need to get packed, luv, and get on the road.” He sat up, pulling her up with him. She smiled at him and he very nearly pushed her back down.
Instead he climbed from the bed. “I’m going to shower while you have yer coffee. Then I’ll load up our things and we’ll be off.”
“Okay.” She stretched and moved her legs over the side of the bed. “Then we can stop and say good-bye to Will on our way out.”
“No.” Servans could still be there and he wouldn’t have her anywhere near that Nuadian beast again.
“What?” Her smile turned to confusion.
“I said no. I’ll no have you exposed to that man again.”
“Servans, you mean?” She paused, closed her eyes for a minute and then smiled. “He must be gone. I can feel it. It’s perfectly safe for me now.”
“I’ll no take that chance.”
“Ian. I wouldn’t want to bump into that man again either. I wouldn’t go if I thought there was any chance he was still there. But he’s gone. I told you. I would feel the evil if he were still there. Besides, we promised Will.”
Perhaps she was right, but it didn’t matter. She was his to protect now. “No. Will is going to have accept our change of plans. I forbid you to leave the cottage by yerself.”
“You what?”
“Just you sit tight, luv, while I go catch a shower. Yer no to step outside that door without me.”
She said nothing, so he leaned over and kissed her on top of her da
mp curls before he walked into the bathroom and turned on the water.
Sometimes the old ways were best. She might be angry with him now, but she would get over it. He would do anything to keep her safe. Anything. Even risk her being angry for a little while.
* * *
He can’t tell me what to do.
Sarah stalked out over the lawn, headed toward the main house. Granted, Ian had rescued her from abject humiliation more than once over the course of the past three days, and they had just shared an experience she still could hardly believe, but she would not allow him—or anyone else—to order her about like that. Telling her she wasn’t allowed to leave the cottage by herself.
“ ‘Sit tight, luv,’ ” she mimicked in a false baritone, scrunching up her nose in distaste. “ ‘You’re not to step outside that door without me.’ Well, I don’t think so. I don’t think I’ll be taking orders from you or anybody else today. And I don’t think there’s anything you can do about it,” she muttered, but she glanced over her shoulder toward the cottage and quickened her pace all the same.
She shook her head in confusion. Everything had been so wonderful and then, all of a sudden, he’d turned into this time-warp reject of a chauvinist, ordering her around like he had a right to.
It wasn’t happening. She had made a promise to Will and she fully intended to keep it.
Reaching the front door, she lifted her hand to knock just as the door opened and she once again found herself nose to chest with Ramos Servans. This time the chest in question was covered in a white polo.
“Sarah,” he said, pleasure lighting his face. He grasped her arms and pulled her to him for a tight hug. “I’ve been worried sick about you. No one around here was willing to tell me anything about your condition after McCullough carted you away last night.”
She froze, not quite sure what to expect. No uncovered skin on her arms, thankfully. She relaxed a bit.
Holding her away from him, he studied her face. “I don’t see any ill effects from your little fainting spell. In fact, you look quite good this morning.”
Highland Guardian Page 16