The Lady and the Lion

by Kay Hooper

  Nothing else made sense.

  But the same thread of reason to which he grimly clung insisted there was more to it than simple lust. Much more, even though he couldn’t put a name to it. What his body demanded wasn’t mere release—it was joining. He wanted, needed, to become a part of her, to merge the two of them together until there was no separateness, until they were bound immutably together. And he thought she wanted the same thing. She was so alive in his arms, so utterly responsive, and he wanted her with a reckless, heedless need almost impossible to fight.

  Almost. But the thread of sanity held in his mind, and it was enough—barely—to give him the will to end that scorching kiss and set her away from him. He kept his hands on her hips, holding her away, trying to control his ragged breathing enough to say something, anything, that would stop them before it was too late…before he pulled them both over the edge.

  She was staring at him, her eyes wide and dazed, her parted lips a little swollen from the fierce pressure of his. Pushed back away from him, she had grasped handfuls of his shirt as if unconsciously determined not to let go of him.

  “No,” he said finally, his voice little more than a hoarse rasp.

  “Why?” she whispered, not even vaguely surprised that she was, quite definitely, throwing herself at him now. It didn’t make any sense, none of it did, but she was caught up in something that was rushing forward and she couldn’t stop it, couldn’t stop herself. She couldn’t even stop the naked words, “I want you, too. You know that. You have to know it.”

  Keith managed to get his breathing under control, but his willpower was still hanging by a mere thread and she wasn’t helping any. “Erin, you don’t know what you want. You’ve cut one tie to a domineering man, don’t be so quick to form another.”

  “Is that what you are? A domineering man?” She wondered why he was doing this, because that didn’t make sense either. He wanted her, but was obviously determined that they wouldn’t be lovers, and she didn’t understand why.

  “Bet on it.”

  “I don’t think so.” She shook her head as if it didn’t really matter, but her beautiful face expressed puzzlement and hurt, a dawning realization. “You just don’t want—complications. Is that it? You’re afraid I’d cling.” She seemed to notice her death grip on his shirt for the first time, and slowly released the material. “Maybe you’re right. I don’t seem to have any pride at all.”

  “Erin—”

  In a very steady voice, she said, “Tell me you’ve got a wife and kids back in Topeka. Or that you’re a convicted ax murderer or gunrunner or something. Tell me something, Keith. Tell me why.”

  He forced his hands to let go of her. In the most even voice he could manage, he said, “Erin, this is happening too fast, you know that. You aren’t thinking clearly.”

  “But you are?”

  “I have to. I don’t want to hurt you, and I think that’s what would happen. I wouldn’t be good for you. I wouldn’t be good for anyone right now.”

  “Would I be good for you?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Is there a wife? Kids?”

  Keith shook his head, angry at himself because he was unable to tell her the one thing that would probably make her run from him in horror. The truth. I came here to destroy two men. He couldn’t tell her that. He couldn’t stand here and see her face change if he told her that.

  Erin crossed her arms beneath her breasts, almost hugging herself as she stared up at him. The rosy flush of desire had faded, leaving her pale. “You wouldn’t be good for me. Why can’t I simply accept what you say?” She chuckled, the uncertain sound of someone stranded in a boat that had lost its rudder.

  He instinctively lifted a hand toward her, but she stepped back quickly.

  “Damn you, don’t be kind.” Her voice was low and rapid. “I feel enough of a fool without that. I—I’m sorry. Sorry about the whole thing. Goodbye, Keith.”

  He took two steps after her before he could stop himself, then stood gazing across the little garden at nothing. He felt like the worst kind of bastard because of what he’d done to her. And to himself. No matter how many times he told himself it was better this way, that he would surely have hurt her even if the danger of the situation around him had never touched her, the emotional certainty he should have felt was absent.

  It was against his very nature to avoid facing anything, no matter how disturbing or painful, and in pushing her away so forcefully he was trying to evade something that promised to be both. But what choice did he have? Even assuming that Erin could be content not knowing where he disappeared to every evening, that she wouldn’t eventually expect the truth from him, what right did he have to become her lover when a single misstep could mean his death? It was his risk, not hers, and he couldn’t make her a part of his life when any future at all was so uncertain, when even the present was dangerous and unpredictable.

  Even setting that aside, the violent emotions trapped inside him—the grief and fury and bitterness—made his temper brittle, and the role he had to play left him so edgy he could hardly live with himself. All his emotional energy was bound up in maintaining his balance in that other life he was leading; there was very little left for a normal life. What would that do to her? How could he be a lover when so many of the emotions driving him were negative ones?

  She was vulnerable, he knew. Hers was a gentle heart, and he’d never forgive himself if he did anything to damage her. He had felt her surprise at the intensity of her own response to him, and it told him more than she probably realized. For whatever inexplicable reason—and he didn’t pretend to understand either her feelings or his own—his reckless desire triggered hers in a way she’d never felt before, and the sheer power of her desire had overwhelmed her.

  He knew that was true, because it had happened to him, too. The difference between them was that he knew all the odds against them—and she didn’t.

  After a while, realizing his weariness was making thoughts chase each other around in his head uselessly, Keith went back into the hotel and up to his room. He wasn’t planning on going out tonight, but knew it was smarter to sleep when he could just in case.

  Needing to sleep, however, was one thing; being able to was something else. It was past noon before he finally slipped into a restless, uneasy sleep, and when he woke around six he wondered if it had been worth the effort. A shower chased away most of the cobwebs and coffee scattered the rest, but he found it no easier to think now than he had that morning.

  Even though common sense told him to, he knew for certain he couldn’t leave things the way they were between him and Erin. Leaving it alone, just letting it end so abruptly, was impossible for him. He couldn’t stand the thought of knowing he had hurt her. Yet she was too firmly in his head, distracting him until he could hardly think of anything but her; she had gotten too close.

  Unfortunately for both of them, pushing her away physically had done nothing to change the situation. In fact, it was worse now, because there was a beautiful face and haunting eyes to go with the sweet voice, and all of her was so damned unforgettable.

  He didn’t go to the connecting doors, but out into the hallway to her door. He thought as he knocked quietly that she had every reason to tell him to go to hell, and no reason at all to want to see him again. But the door opened.

  “May I talk to you?” he asked. She was wearing some kind of lounging outfit, pants and a loose, peasant-type top made of terrycloth, the same pale green as her eyes. With her creamy skin and bright hair, she was a heartbreakingly gorgeous sight. For the first time, he wondered if her absence from his side was why there had been a constant ache in his chest since this morning. Quickly, he pushed the thought aside.

  Erin hesitated, then stepped back to allow him to enter. He went into the sitting room, absently noticing a large sketchpad on the table near the balcony doors and remembering that she had decided to take up artwork. There was a charcoal drawing on the top page, but he didn’t
go near enough to see what it was. He turned to face Erin, and she spoke before he could.

  “You didn’t have to come here, you know.” Her voice was soft, her face expressionless. “I’ve already decided to leave, so—”

  “Don’t,” he said involuntarily.

  She shook her head. “What was it you said about me, that I didn’t know what I wanted? That seems to be your problem.”

  “I know what I want. I also know what I can’t have.”

  Erin’s chin lifted slightly and a spark of anger showed in her eyes. “Do you mind? I really don’t want to hear that kind of statement again. I don’t know what game you’re playing, Keith, but you can count me out. I may have thrown my pride to the winds with you this morning, but I’ve stopped that now. I’m not a masochist.”

  Keith shoved his hands into his pockets, fighting the insane urge to reach out and yank her into his arms. “I’m sorry, Erin. I never meant to hurt you. And it wasn’t—isn’t—a game. You have to understand.”

  She didn’t understand, and hours of grappling with her own emotions had left Erin in a precarious balance on the edge of control. She was baffled by him, by the contrast between his words and his actions. He kept saying no and yet he couldn’t seem to stay away, couldn’t close the door between them. She had the consolation of knowing that this was difficult for him, but it didn’t help at all because she didn’t understand why he was fighting so hard.

  And complicating the whole thing was her confused certainty that he really was concerned about her, that he was convinced he would hurt her, and was determined not to. His sensitivity argued against his own words. If he cared so much about not hurting her, then how could he be capable of doing it? Erin had held her own with men who had made careers of being enigmatic, but Keith had her totally bewildered.

  During the last hours, she had told herself he’d been right this morning; she didn’t know what she wanted. He was the first man she had felt so—so overwhelmed by, and thinking clearly about him seemed beyond her. All her instincts told her there was a great deal of anger in him, that he was a dangerous man, and yet she didn’t feel the least threat from or fear of him. What she felt, more than anything else, was a sense of certainty, of conviction.

  She sighed. What good was her confidence when he struggled so hard against it? No good.

  Erin squared her shoulders and met his intense gaze with all the coolness she could muster. “If you’ve said what you came here for, then please leave. I have to finish packing.”

  “I don’t want you to go,” he said.

  She wasn’t given to emotional gestures, but if there had been something heavy nearby, Erin would have thrown it at him. Instead, she crossed her arms beneath her breasts and counted silently to ten. Then, carefully, she said, “I want to go.”

  “Do you?”

  “Stop it, Keith!” She looked around a little wildly, but there was nothing heavy close by.

  An odd laugh escaped him. “I know—I’m not being consistent.”

  “Consistent? You’re driving me crazy!” She controlled herself with an effort. “I don’t want to do this. Do you understand? I don’t want to feel like this. Maybe you enjoy stormy, bewildering relationships, but I don’t.” Even as her normally soft and gentle voice rose on the last words, Erin was completely unconscious of the transformation taking place inside her; she couldn’t know that by tapping into the depths of her emotions, Keith had opened a door she hadn’t realized was there.

  Born into an elegant and ordered life, Erin had been insulated by her environment as much as by her looks. Molded first by the private schools whose job it was to turn out gracious and accomplished ladies, and then by the coolly dominant father who favored tranquil voices and graceful manners, Erin had never even suspected there was fire in her nature. She had never cared enough about anything or anyone to fight.

  But here was Keith. He was so strong that his drive was like a visible aura, so complex that he confused her totally. Far from talking to her almost unconsciously and unguardedly as so many men did, he was blunt, abrupt, intense, and enigmatic. There was anger in him, and danger, and nothing in Erin’s experience had taught her how to cope with such an explosive combination.

  All she had left was instinct.

  If there had been no fire in her own nature, being engulfed in his force could have burned her badly, leaving her, by this point, totally shattered and wanting only a dark corner in which to hide and lick her wounds. If she had been the completely gentle woman they both believed her to be, she could never have held her own with him. But by running hot and cold, Keith had blown on smoldering embers neither of them had recognized, and that fire was burning now.

  “I will not play games with you,” she said, almost spitting in her anger. “And I’m not about to stick around here while you make up your mind whether you have the inclination to get involved with me.”

  “I think you know what my inclination is,” he murmured, eyes narrowed as he gazed at her.

  Her eyes flashed at him. “There you go again! Saying yes in one breath and no in the next. Well, forget it, Keith. I value myself slightly above a doormat. I might have acted like one earlier today, but don’t expect a repeat performance.”

  “You didn’t act like a doormat,” he said. “You acted like a very passionate woman. I should have paid closer attention.”

  Erin took three rapid steps away from him and then returned to glare at him. In a conversational tone, she said, “Why am I not calling the manager and having you hauled out of here?”

  “Because you’re three parts spitfire,” Keith said, still gazing at her in fascination.

  She made a sound that might have been mistaken for a snarl, and said between gritted teeth, “Go away. Leave.”

  Even more than before, Keith was torn. This new side of her, promising definite fireworks, was mesmerizing, and something his own vigorous nature was strongly attracted toward. If he had felt drawn to her before, it was nothing compared to the pull he felt now. Only the magnetism of her had changed—but none of the rest seemed so important now, while he was with her.

  “Did you hear me?” she demanded.

  “Loud and clear.”

  “Then why are you still here?”

  He almost smiled at that aggrieved question. “Erin, would you like to have dinner with me?”

  “No,” she snapped.

  “Would you like to go to bed with me?”

  Her mouth opened and then closed, and she stared at him for at least half a minute before saying, “You are the most maddening man I have ever met in my life.”

  “Then you’re forewarned.” This time, he did smile. “I’m afraid I won’t be good for you, but I can’t seem to be reasonable about this. I have tried…You look surprised,” he added, trying not to laugh.

  “Then my face is kinder than my thoughts,” she said in a wondering tone of voice. “I feel amazed. Staggered. Stunned. You actually believe I’d go to bed with you after all this?”

  “I’m lower than scum for suggesting it, I know,” he said.

  Erin turned away abruptly and went to the open balcony doors. Her back was stiff, and she didn’t turn around to face him. “I think I hate you,” she said coldly.

  “I wouldn’t be at all surprised.”

  “Arrogant bastard.”

  “Undoubtedly.”

  “Any woman crazy enough to get involved with you deserves everything she gets.”

  “Uh-huh. Eight o’clock okay with you for dinner?”

  “Aren’t you working?”

  “Not tonight.”

  “Oh.”

  “Is eight o’clock all right?” he repeated.

  “Yes.”

  “I’ll come back for you in an hour,” Keith said matter-of-factly, and left before she could change her mind.

  It was a good minute before Erin turned to stare at the empty room. “I’m out of my mind,” she said in a judicious tone. “I am certifiably mad.” Moving carefully, she
sat down at the small table and stared at her opened sketchpad.

  The sketch, done in a fury of confused emotion during the afternoon, was of Keith. Without conceit, Erin knew it was good. The stark black-and-white portrait showed a complex man whose compelling face was brooding and sensual. There were secrets in the hooded eyes and a devilish tilt to the eyebrows, and his mouth was curved in a dangerous smile.

  “I should have drawn horns on you,” she muttered, and firmly closed the sketchpad.

  Erin had never felt so many diverse emotions all jumbled together inside her. Passion, hurt, fury, indignation, and a wholly unwilling and somewhat staggered amusement at the sheer nerve of the man. Since the morning, she’d ridden an emotional tidal wave, and had no idea where it was taking her.

  It was unnerving to discover she was unwilling to save herself, and she was actually looking forward to the rest of the ride.

  She thought about that while she was getting ready, unable to reach any conclusion except that she was obviously demented. The man was a devil, evidently amusing himself by yanking her around on the end of an emotional string, and she ought to have her head examined for letting him get away with it. On second thought, she didn’t need her head examined; she knew she was crazy.

  She was also crazy for choosing to wear a gold dress that shimmered faintly with every move she made. It was vaguely Grecian in design, leaving one shoulder bare and clinging closely to her body from breasts to hips before falling more loosely in a knee-length skirt. She knew the color suited her, and the style emphasized every curve. Delicate sandals showed off trim ankles and slender legs, and her loose hairstyle implied less control and dignity than was at all wise.

  Dressed for battle, she thought somewhat grimly, and didn’t like to consider what that might mean.

  The flowers that arrived at a quarter to eight didn’t do much to clarify her mood—they just disconcerted her even more. He’d sent roses. White roses. She hoped the choice had been automatic or that of the hotel florist; as well as she remembered, white roses symbolized eternity. No message on the card, just his name, bold enough to belong to any villain.