by Syrie James
“What an exquisite song,” Nicole said, clasping her arms over his. “I can see why it’s your favorite. Who wrote it?”
“The poem was written by Robert Burns, a Scottish poet, in 1794,” Michael said, kissing her shoulder.
“I’ve heard of him. He’s famous. Didn’t he write the song ‘Auld Lang Syne’?”
“He did. Burns was so struck by the words to ‘Red, Red Rose’ when sung by a country girl that he wrote them down. Not being pleased with the air, he asked me to give it to his friend Pietro Urbani, a Scots singer, and see if he’d set the words to music in the style of a Scots tune, which Urbani did accordingly.”
Nicole spun slowly in Michael’s embrace until she faced him, her arms encircling his waist. “Burns asked you to... ?” She stared at him. “Are you saying you actually knew the poet Robert Burns?”
“I met Burns during the first year of my . . . rehabilitation, shall we call it,” Michael answered, “when I spent some time up in Scotland.”
Nicole let out a laugh that seemed to be half incredulity, half delight. “What was he like?”
“He was about my age—or the age I appeared to be, anyway. He was a good-looking chap, very spirited and intelligent. His eyes literally glowed when he spoke with feeling or interest. He talked about his love of poetry and about his muse. Sadly, he became ill and died soon after he wrote that poem. But it was Burns who first inspired my interest in writing.”
“Well then, the world—and I—owe a greater debt to Robert Burns than we ever knew,” Nicole said.
Her smile as she gazed at him was such a mix of wonder, affection, and admiration that Michael’s heart turned over. He kissed her, then spread small, slow kisses across her cheeks and nose. As he tenderly brushed back the hair from Nicole’s forehead, his eyes fell upon the butterfly bandage concealing the cut on her temple, which still looked angry. “Does that hurt?”
“A little,” she admitted.
“I could heal it for you right now, if you wanted.”
“Heal it? What do you mean?”
“There’s an antimicrobial protein in saliva—it’s called histatin—”
“Yes, I know—it’s said to aid in the healing of wounds.”
He was surprised she knew that, but then remembered her interest in medicine, and that she’d once considered becoming a doctor. “That’s why cuts in the mouth heal so much faster than other injuries.”
“And why animals lick their wounds.”
Michael remained silent, eyeing her meaningfully, waiting for her to make the connection.
“So what are you saying?” she asked. “That your saliva—?”
“Like everything else in my body, the healing properties of my saliva are heightened. If you’d like, I can . . .”
Nicole laughed again. “You are just one surprise after another. I never know what to expect next from you.” She beamed at him and said with a melodramatic flair, “Okay. Yes! Please, doctor! Heal me.”
Gently, Michael removed the butterfly bandage near her hairline. “This might sting a little at first, but that will pass.”
He lowered his head and lightly pressed his tongue to the wound. As he lapped against the severed ridges of her tender flesh, he felt her tense. Then a quiver ran through her body, she gasped, and her hands slid up to grip his shoulders, as if to steady herself. He continued to lick her wound with infinite slowness, feeling the subtle but steady changes as they occurred beneath his tongue.
“It did sting at first, but now it feels really . . . really . . . nice,” she whispered.
Her limbs and body grew heavier in his arms as she relaxed. “Now it tickles,” she giggled.
At last he pressed a firm kiss against her smooth, moist flesh, and drew back slightly.
“Don’t stop,” she murmured sleepily.
“But you’re healed,” he said, gazing at her tenderly.
Nicole opened surprised green eyes, mere inches away from his. “I . . . am?”
“You are.”
She touched the clean, healed spot where the wound used to be. “That’s a pretty neat trick.”
“It comes in handy at times.”
A thought seemed to occur to her. “If your saliva has such unique properties, is that why, whenever we kiss . . . and a little while ago, when we . . . when you . . . you know . . . Is that why it felt so . . . so amazingly, incredibly, indescribable?”
He smiled. “I don’t know. Perhaps it was.”
“Wow,” Nicole said breathily. “Wow.”
It was very late now, and Nicole suddenly looked so sleepy that Michael led her to the couch in front of the fireplace, where they stretched out, face-to-face in each other’s arms. His fingers searched tenderly in her heavy curtain of hair, finding and exposing her ear. In a low tone that did nothing to disguise his adoration, he quoted:
“‘My love’s like a red, red rose, that’s newly sprung in June.’”
He kissed the bare flesh of her neck and felt her body tremble. “‘My love’s like the melody that’s sweetly played in tune.’”
Pulling aside her T-shirt, he delicately brushed his lips across the sensual slope of her upper shoulder. “‘As fair art thou, my bonnie lass, so deep in love am I . . .’”
Michael bent his head to hers and gave her a languorous kiss. “‘And I will love thee still, my dear,’” he whispered, “‘till all the seas run dry.’”
Nicole came fully awake in his arms, her green eyes luminous as they gazed into his. They began to make love.
Joy surged through him. For so long—an eternity—he had been with a woman only in his mind and dreams. But she was here and real. With hands and lips, he worshiped her. They shed their clothes with unhurried grace, pausing to gaze at each
Murmuring his praise, he turned her to him and slid down on the couch, past her hips, letting his hands glide over every curve of her slender body. The provocative form of her inner thighs was captivating. Tenderly, he nestled his face into the warm cloud of that feminine softness. He heard her gasp and call his name. The texture and taste of her was intoxicating. He took his time, felt her legs tremble violently beneath him as her fingers clenched his arms.
He moved up to take her, but Nicole suddenly spun in his embrace and rolled to a sitting position, trapping his legs beneath her on the couch. He tried to drag her to him but she stopped him, placing a silent fingertip to his lips. Settling atop him like a sylph or siren, she slowly planted kisses over the curves of his chest, then worked her way down his side, softly touching her lips and tongue in between each rib as she traveled ever lower, past his hips now. He felt the contact burn in hot channels throughout his body. Her breasts, as she moved, were an unconscious caress and he felt himself tighten more urgently beneath her, his breath sharpening in little staccato gasps as she embraced him with her mouth.
Michael reached down to thread his hands into her luxurious hair, urgently raising her head back up to his. “My love,” he whispered thickly, “I don’t know how much more of that I can take.”
Nicole beamed down at him radiantly as his fingers fanned over her breasts in deepening strokes, his thumbs languorously stroking her nipples in circles. He heard her breath quicken in her throat. His entire body felt hot, like molten putty.
Michael’s hands glided around to her willowy, arching back and pulled her close, until the sweeping, moist heat of her pressed tightly against him. Their mouths searched for and found each other; then he planted fervent kisses across her cheek to her neck. The flaming passion within his body only heightened his awareness of the throbbing pulse in the throat beneath his lips. Oh, how he wanted her. He wanted all of her.
All of her.
He could hear Nicole’s red blood pulsating through her veins. Its warm, delectable scent assailed his nostrils, and with it came the familiar, threatening heat behind his eyes and the ache in his jaw. He longed to try that blood, to test its flavor. He yearned to suck the essence from her body and experience the ecstasy that a
lways accompanied it. Just a taste, he thought; just a taste.
But no; no. Michael briefly closed his eyes and sternly, deliberately forced the thoughts away. He wouldn’t. He couldn’t. Loving her this way was all that was permitted; and it was enough.
With deliberate slowness he guided her hips to join their bodies, easing himself into her melting warmth. Moving within her, gazing once more into the vivid greenness of her eyes, he concentrated on every vibrant sensation of pleasure building inside him. This was not just making love, he told himself; it was an act of love, a physical expression of all that was in his heart, something he had never in his entire existence experienced before tonight.
As she cried out in ecstasy and a bright flare of sensation engulfed him, the miracle of it rang through him as if it were the brilliant, climactic resolution of a symphony.
CHAPTER 15
SUNSHINE CREPT IN around the edges of the draperies, imbuing the study with a warm, gentle light. Nicole awoke to find herself alone on the couch. Her head rested on a throw pillow and she was covered by a warm blanket. She must have fallen asleep in Michael’s arms. Where was he?
A heat rose to Nicole’s cheeks and an exhilarating shiver ran through her as she recalled their lovemaking the night before. Had she really just spent the night making love with a man—a strong, intelligent, tender, caring man—who also happened to be a vampire? It all felt unreal; yet it had been more meaningful and powerful than any act of love she’d ever experienced before.
The clock above the glowing hearth announced that it was 12:17. Half the day already gone—but no wonder. The previous day had been very, very long, and they’d been up most of
Nicole stood, wrapping the blanket around her nude body as she went to the window, where she pulled back the draperies. Sunlight blared in with such fierce intensity that she drew back, squinting, and half-covered her eyes with her hand. Even with that limited viewing capacity, the sight that met her gaze was so achingly beautiful, she gasped aloud.
In the years she’d lived in Washington State and all the times she’d gone skiing, she’d seen plenty of wintry, mountainous vistas before, but none quite so spectacular as this.
It was as if she was on top of heaven. The storm was a distant memory. The world looked fresh, clean, and new, as if it had been reborn. The sky was the bluest blue Nicole had ever seen, and the air so crystal clear that she could see for miles. Distant, snow-capped mountain peaks framed a wide valley that went on forever, most of it densely packed with trees thickly covered in snow and dripping with ice crystals that sparkled in the sunlight. In the open patches between the forested hills and valleys, everything was frosted in deep, pure, brilliant white.
Nicole caught her first full view of the road that snaked down in elegant curves from Michael’s house to the highway a half mile below. Michael had completely cleared his road, she realized, while she lay sleeping. The highway itself, however, was still blanketed in snow except for one cleared patch where his road intersected it. On the other side of that patch, to her astonishment, she could clearly make out the form of her rental car nestled down in the embankment, sunlight glinting off its battered roof. That car should have been hidden this morning
Nicole’s heart turned over at this fresh evidence of his thoughtfulness and caring.
She shook her head in wonder. The miracle of the world outside seemed no less extraordinary than the private miracle that had occurred inside this house and the conservatory the night before. So much had changed in the past twenty-four hours. She felt changed, as if she, too, had been reborn.
The sunlight’s glare on the snow below was so bright that Nicole had to turn away from the window. It was also a visible reminder of how fleeting her time was here. Michael had said it would probably take two days after the storm ended for the snowplows to come through.
Two days. After that, she’d be able to leave anytime. The thought filled her with such sadness that a lump welled up in her throat.
One thing was as clear to Nicole as the wide-open vista below: she loved Michael with all her heart. Could she tell him? Would he welcome such an admission, or see it as a burden? She sensed that he had deep feelings for her; although he hadn’t said so straight out, he’d revealed it with every look and gesture during their lovemaking, and when he’d quoted that beautiful song to her the night before.
Their affair had progressed at the speed of light—but that should be par for the course with a vampire, shouldn’t it? Nicole’s mind leaped ahead with similar speed, trying to imagine
The image was so upsetting that Nicole immediately cut it off, shaking her head to clear it. She had no idea if Michael would even want her in his life, had no idea what she wanted, or if a future between them was even possible.
She wouldn’t think about it. For now, she was here. They were together. And she was going to do her best to enjoy every minute of it.
Nicole heard Michael’s truck pull into the garage and the engine shut off. She dashed across the house into the master bathroom, cleaned up, and dressed quickly in jeans and a long-sleeve shirt. She’d just finished pulling on her boots when Michael entered the bedroom and crossed to her.
“Sleep well?” he asked. He was wearing his usual blue jeans, cowboy boots, and a black button-up shirt with a subtle crosshatch pattern. The dark color was an attractive complement to his fair complexion and handsome face.
“I did.” With a smile, Nicole walked into his arms. “Michael, it’s so gorgeous out! To think that you see that view every day.”
He kissed her long and hard, then drew back to look at her affectionately. “It is something. I spent far too many years living in the protected valley on the other side of my hill. When I built this house, I was glad to finally take advantage of the view.”
“It’s so beautiful it made my eyes hurt.”
He laughed and kissed her again. “Do you need to make a phone call or check the Internet? My satellite dish is up and running again.”
“Oh.” Two days ago, Nicole would have been itching to call someone or check her email, but she had no interest in either one. “Thanks, but I’ll tell you what, after two days inside, I’m dying to take a walk. I don’t suppose that you—”
Michael abruptly shook his head. “I have to wait for an overcast day. I can only go out in sun this bright under the protection of a vehicle. You’re welcome to take a walk on your own, but I’d advise you to stick to the cleared roads. It’s not easy to trek in new snow, even in snowshoes. And the wildlife tends to come out after a storm, looking for their next meal.”
“What kind of wildlife?”
“The rabbits come out hunting for pine cones and pine needles. Then the foxes come out hunting for rabbits. Sometimes an elk or deer or mountain lion wanders down into the valley.”
“A mountain lion?” Nicole shuddered. “That’s okay, I’ll pass on a walk. Thank you so much for unburying my car.”
“I figured I’d better, otherwise they’d never find it. It’s pretty much stuck in that ravine. I’m afraid they’ll have to tow it out.”
“That’s what I told them when I called.”
He frowned suddenly and let go of her, taking a step back and staring at the floor. A hush fell. Nicole wondered if he was thinking the same thing she was thinking: that when the tow truck came, she would be on her way.
“So,” he said finally, his eyes flicking back up to hers with what looked like a forced smile. “I think it’s high time that I introduced you to my horses.”
ALTHOUGH IT WAS WELL PAST NOON, Nicole’s stomach wanted breakfast. She downed a quick bowl of oatmeal, grabbed an apple, donned a sweater and her winter gear, and followed Michael to the garage where they climbed into his pickup truck. He turned on the heat full blast and they roared off down his freshly cleared road in the opposite direction of the highway, toward the back side of his property, which Nicole had not yet seen.
Nicole munched on the apple as they drove. Looking back over her shoulder, she
could see and appreciate his house in its entirety for the first time. The huge, stunning domicile with its multipeaked roofline, stained wood siding, wraparound porches, and tall picture windows glinted majestically beneath the afternoon sun, surrounded by snow-draped pines. When the truck crested the ridge and began to head down the winding road on the other side, Nicole’s eyes widened and she caught her breath at another vista, this time of uninterrupted, stunning natural beauty. An oblong, snow-covered valley was ringed by forested white mountains on all sides. A frozen stream wound through the valley, ending at a lake that glistened in the sun at the base of one of the mountains.
“How much of this is yours?” Nicole asked, gazing out the window in awe.
“Everything inside those ridges,” he said, pointing to the mountains around them. “I own the valley all the way up to
“Three square miles? That’s incredible. It’s all so beautiful.”
Nicole drank in the view as they traveled to the bottom of the road, passing an old log cabin nestled up against the back side of the hill at the mouth of the valley, in the shelter of the trees. “Do you use the old cabin anymore?”
“I have a ranch hand who lives there about eight months a year, late spring through autumn. In the winter, everything’s so frozen up, he goes back home.”
Not far from the cabin, two huge barns stood side by side against the hillside. They weren’t painted the typical red or green of other barns Nicole had seen. These were rustic-looking with peeled log exteriors that blended in harmoniously with the scenery and the countryside. One of the barns appeared to be over a century old, while the other one looked almost brand-new, with freshly stained logs and shiny new metal around its frame doors and windows. Attached to the newer barn was an immense covered and fenced structure that Michael explained was an outdoor arena.
The snow-capped, peaked roof of each building was strung around the edges with dagger-sharp icicles hanging in a sparkling row like a queen’s necklace. A large covered portico connecting the two barns out front protected a paved area from sunlight, snow, and rain.