Three floors above ground level, the lift glided to a stop, the doors opened, and Sydney was facing the silent sanctuary of the owner of the Isle of Charron. Slowly she began to walk forward.
She was truly lovely, Nicholas thought, watching her.
Exquisite. Instinct had told him that she wasn’t like the women he usually summoned to him, and he had been proved right. When she had first looked up and seen his men on either side of her, his theory had been confirmed. Her expression had changed from composure to fear. For an instant she had looked so defenseless, that something like pain had twisted inside of him. To his mind, it hadn’t seemed right that the first strong emotion he saw on her face should be fear. On a beautifully carved table a crystal swan swam on a mirror lake.
“Good evening.”
She started at the deep voice. She hadn’t even seen him, yet there he was! He was standing on a level above her, in front of a window, and for a moment she couldn’t separate him from the night. They seemed as one.
As she had trained herself to do, she waited a beat before answering him. “Good evening.”
Three long strides brought him down to her. “Thank you for coming.”
“Did I have any choice?”
His mouth curved with humor. “Not really, but I won’t apologize. I never apologize.”
THIS FIERCE SPLENDOR
by Iris Johansen
It is 1870 and the Scottish beauty and scholar Elspeth MacGregor has traveled to Hell’s Bluff in the Arizona Territory to hire Dominic Delaney to lead her to the magical lost city of Kantalan. Elspeth assumes her business with Dominic will be simple –but learns quickly that nothing is simple about this magnetic man-on-the-run who is the only person who knows the location of the fabulous city of dark mysteries and magnificent treasures. He refuses to guide her. He refuses even to speak with her again. But his nephew Patrick, a mischievous young man, is Elspeth’s ally and has hatched a plan to create a confrontation between her and his uncle.
“Firecrackers?”Elspeth eyed with alarm the stack of slender sticks linked with long fuses. She had been curious about the large blanket-wrapped bundle since Patrick had picked it up from Sam Li's shack, but she had never imagined it contained anything as exotic as firecrackers. “What are we going to do with firecrackers?” she asked again.
Patrick was busy tying the fuses together. “You said you wanted to get Dom’s attention and make a statement of your determination.” He looked up and grinned at her. “This will make a very resounding statement, I guarantee.”
“I’m sure it will,” she said faintly. She glanced at the large whitewashed house across the street. “But I had a more sedate statement in mind.”
“You want Dom jerked from his lair and forced to confront you in the fastest possible way.”His nimble fingers moved to the second string of firecrackers. “This is the only way I could think for you to do it.”
“The only way or the most interesting way?” she asked dryly. “I think you’re planning on enjoying this.”
“Sure, I always did like a good show.”
Elspeth wished she could think of something else. She had an idea Patrick’s plan had elements more explosive than the firecrackers. “Your uncle is going to be very angry.”
“Yep.”
“But he’d probably be angry at my coming here anyway.”
“Uh-huh.”
“And it’s really his own fault for being so narrow-minded and uncooperative. This is a very important undertaking; it can add greatly to our fund of knowl –”
She was interrupted by his low chuckle. “I think you’re trying to talk yourself into something.”
She grinned back at him. “I think I’ve done it.” She knelt beside him. “Let me help you.”
“Very well. You take these two packets and run them from the front door down the steps and into the street. I’ll take the rest inside and string them along the hall on the second floor and down the stairs to the front door.”
“No.”
He lifted his head. “What?”
“I said no. This is my responsibility. I’ll be the one to set the firecrackers inside the house and light them. You’re clearly trying to spare me the risk of being discovered.”
“What I’m trying to do is spare you a sight that might shock the bejiggers out of you. I think you’d better wait outside until I call you.”
“No.” She took the larger stack of firecrackers from him. “Do I light each one as I put it in place?”
He sighed with resignation. “All you have to do is to light the long fuse on the first packet. Place that one at the end of the corridor on the second floor. The fuse will allow you enough time to trail the firecrackers down the stairs to the front hall.”
His enthusiasm was contagious. A tiny flare of excitement began to smolder beneath Elspeth’s apprehension. “Is the front door left unlocked?”
Patrick nodded. “Rina wouldn’t think of discouraging business, be it day or night.”
“Then I guess I won’t have any problem.” She hesitated, then squared her shoulders and started across the street.
“You might have one problem,” Patrick called out.
Elspeth stopped and turned to face him with swift alarm. “What?”
“Matches.” He took a box from his pocket and grinned. “Catch.” He tossed the box across the few feet separating them. “It’s hard to light a fuse without them.”
Ten minutes later she was standing in the foyer laying the last of the strings of firecrackers on the bottom step. The house was still in half darkness.
She wished there was more light. She would have liked to have seen if the furnishings of a bordello were as exotic as she had imagined. Perhaps when the firecrackers went off she would be able to see more.
The front door opened quietly to reveal Patrick’s thick hair outlined against a pearl-gray wedge of sky. “All set?”
“Yes,” she whispered. “I lit the first fuse just as you told me. Shouldn’t it have gone off by now?”
“Any second.” He closed the door behind him.
“What do we do now?”
“We get out of the line of fire.” He drew her to the corner of the foyer farthest from the staircase. “And then we wait.”
They didn’t have to wait long. Patrick had scarcely gotten the words out when there was an explosion!
“Here we go,” Patrick murmured over the barrage of explosions. “How’s this for a statement, Elspeth?”
The first explosion jerked Dominic from sleep. Gunfire. In the hall outside. He moved with the sure instinct that had guided him for the last ten years. By the time of the second explosion, he was on his feet reaching for his gunbelt. When the third explosion rocked the hall, he was at the door.
“Dominic,” Rina said sleepily. She sat up and brushed a shining brown lock of hair from her cheek. “What the hell –” She broke off as another explosion jarred her fully awake. “No, Dom, don’t go out there.” She jumped out of bed, reaching hurriedly for her lacy peignoir.
Dominic wasn’t listening. All his senses were strained toward the danger in the hall. God, he was tired of this. Tired of never going to sleep without worrying if he’d face gunfire when he woke. He yanked open the door, stepping quickly to the side to avoid a possible spate of gunshots. The explosions continued, but there were no bullets sailing through the air, impacting floors and woodwork. He cautiously looked around the doorframe. The hall was filled with smoke and the explosions weren’t coming from a gun. He stared blankly at the string of explosives on the floor going off one after the other. “Firecrackers!”
“What?” Rina was beside him. “Who would do a thing like this?”
He didn’t have to consider the possibilities for more than a minute. He had been in the Nugget when Patrick and his friends had ridden through the doors on horseback throwing firecrackers right and left. “For Patrick, every day is a day for celebration,” he said dryly. “I imagine this was his way of bidding us a fond
good-bye until next week. But, if I know my nephew, he wouldn’t be able to resist staying and watching the fun.” He was striding down the hall following the exploding string of firecrackers. “And when I catch up with him, I’m going to tie a string of firecrackers to histail.”The explosions had reached the head of the stairs and so had he. He called down into the dimness at the foot of the stairwell. “Patrick, I’m about to lift your scalp.”
He thought he heard a shout of laughter amid the explosions sparking down the stairs. It didn’t improve his temper. He started down but was forced to move slowly to keep behind the exploding firecrackers. “Did you consider the possibility you might have set the house on fire? Or that someone could have started shooting before they realized it was a tom-fool trick?”
“It wasn’t Patrick’s fault, Mr. Delaney.” Elspeth moved out of the shadowed hallway to the foot of the stairs. She stood very straight, her eyes fixed on him as if mesmerized. “This was entirely my idea.”
She could barely get the words past her dry throat. She had never seen a real live man naked, and Dominic Delaney was boldly and unashamedly naked. “I’ve come to ask you to reconsider.”
The expression of stunned surprise on his face was superceded by a fierce look. “The hell you have.” He started down the steps toward her, each word punctuated by the explosion of the firecrackers. “I don't like women who use their sex as a shield to invade a man’s privacy and put him at a disadvantage. I don’t like it one bit.”
“You said you wouldn’t see me. I had to do something to change the state of things.”
“In case you didn’t hear me the first time, the answer is no.”His blue-gray eyes glinted fiercely through the smoke. “But you knew it would be no, didn’t you, Miss Elspeth MacGregor?”
“Yes, but it appeared to be the only way to get you to take my offer seriously.”
“Dom, what’s going on?” asked a lovely brown-haired woman clad in a blue lace peignoir from the top of the steps. Her gaze fell on Elspeth’s prim, black-gowned figure at the bottom of the stairs. “Jesus, what's happened?”
“Nothing to concern you, Rina. Go on back to bed.” Dominic Delaney’s gaze never wavered from Elspeth. “I’ll take care of this.”
There were other faces peering over the banisters now, but Elspeth was scarcely aware of them. All her attention was focused on the naked man coming down the stairs toward her. She was exquisitely conscious of everything about him. The sleek ripple of the muscles of his thighs, the way his chest moved in and out with each breath. His strange eyes gazing at her with insolence and anger and something else.
The Delaneys, The Untamed Years: GOLDEN FLAMES
by Kay Hooper
Victoria was waiting for him in the lobby of her hotel, and Falcon paused for a moment just inside the doors to gaze at her before she saw him. The black velvet cloak she wore hid a part of her gown from him, but he saw with a feeling of triumph that she had indeed worn red, as he’d asked her to do. The gown was obviously tulle, and the red was a deep, rich color which, along with the black cloak, set off her fair beauty strikingly. Her hair was up in an intricate style, made curiously fragile by a black satin ribbon woven in among the gleaming strands. She had fastened the cloak at her throat, which prevented him from seeing if the rubies dangling from her delicate ears were matched by a necklace, lending fire to her creamy breasts. Fortunately, his imagination where she was concerned was vivid.
He approached her on cat feet. “Beautiful. Just beautiful.”
She looked up at him, startled by his silent approach, and a faint color swept up her cheeks. But there was something new in her eyes, something half shy and half excited, and he knew his seductive efforts had borne fruit. He offered his arm with a slight bow, and amusement rose in him when she accepted the arm, her sidelong glance showing a rueful appreciation of his gentlemanly manners.
The lady was no fool; plainly, she found his publicly donned courtesy quite definitely suspect.
“Why do I feel I’m being led into the lion’s den?” she murmured as he guided her out to the waiting carriage.
Falcon laughed softly. “I can’t imagine. Are you afraid of me, Victoria?”
She didn’t answer until they were inside the closed carriage and moving. “Afraid of you?” She seemed to consider the matter, gazing at him in the shadowed interior. “I think it would be unwise of me to pretend you aren’t a dangerous man.”
“Not dangerous to you, surely,” he said in a silky tone.
Her green eyes were serious. “Western men are a peculiar breed, a law unto themselves. Sometimes their gallant manners would make a European nobleman cringe in shame at his own lack, and at other times they’re as rough and raw as the land that bred them. Dangerous to me? To any woman, I should think.”
After a moment, he smiled. “I was born in Ireland.”
“Were you? But you’re a Western man nonetheless A Texas Ranger, didn’t you say?”
“Yes, for several years.”
“And a Union soldier before that.” Her tone was thoughtful. “And before that –a scout, perhaps? An Indian fighter?”
“Both,” he confessed, oddly pleased by her perception. “And the scar?”
He lifted a hand to finger the crescent mark on his cheekbone. “This? When I was a boy, my brothers and I often rode through Apache camps near our ranch, borrowing the Indian custom of counting coup.”
“Trying to touch as many braves as possible? I’ve heard of it. Is that how you were hurt?”
He smiled. “In a way. My half-broke mustang took exception to a raid one night and threw me. I landed on a sharp stone. A battle scar, of sorts.”
She smiled in return, thinking of a young boy cursing his temperamental mount.
“Did I tell you how beautiful you are?” he said suddenly, huskily.
Her smile faded slightly, leaving only the curve of delicate lips. “Yes. Yes, you did. Thank you.”
Falcon reached out to touch her cheek gently, and then his hand dropped to toy with the fastening of her cloak. “Is this to keep out the cold? Or me?”
Her gloved fingers tightened around each other in her lap, and Victoria felt her breath grow short. “The dictates of fashion,” she said finally.
He unfastened the cloak slowly, holding her eyes with his, very aware that her breath, like his, was shallow and quick. And some distant part of him marveled at these incredible feelings. She felt it too, this aching fire, and he was delighted by her swift response to him. “Fashion can go to hell,” he muttered.
Victoria made no move to stop him, though she knew she should be ashamed of her wanton desire to have him see her, touch her, kiss her. What she felt was excitement.
He opened the cloak completely, pushing it back over her shoulders, and caught his breath at what he saw. The gown was cut low, baring her luscious breasts almost to the nipples, and against the creamy flesh a ruby necklace gleamed with dark fire. The lanterns hung outside the carriage sent a part of their light into the shadowed interior, playing over her exposed flesh with the loving glow of pale gold. Her breasts rose and fell quickly, each motion suggesting that the gown couldn’t possibly hold the full mounds captive a moment longer.
“God, you're so beautiful,” he said hoarsely, and his hands were on her bare shoulders, turning her toward him. He was inflamed even more by her instant, pliant response.
Victoria didn’t even try to resist him. She had invited this, she realized dimly, invited this by agreeing to accompany him tonight, by wearing the provocative gown. And why couldn’t she feel ashamed of that? Why did she feel only achingly, vibrantly alive and incredibly excited? Why did she want to feel his hands on her, his lips …
One of his hands slid down her back, finding the swell of her buttocks and pulling her as close as possible, even as his other arm surrounded her, crushing her upper body against him. He could feel the firm pillow of her bosom pressed to his chest, feel as well as hear her soft gasp, and an urgent sound escaped him just be
fore his lips captured hers.
She was prepared for the shocking possession of his tongue this time –as well as she could be prepared for a sensation so devastating –and her body responded feverishly. Against his hard chest her breasts swelled and ached, and her arms slid up around his neck of their own volition. He was easing her back into the corner, and she could feel his arousal against her hip, bold and demanding.
When he released her lips at last she could only gasp, and her head fell back instinctively as he plundered the soft, vulnerable flesh of her throat. Her fingers twined in his thick, silky hair, and she wanted suddenly to remove her gloves so that she could feel his hair, his skin. And then his lips moved lower to brush hotly against her straining breasts, and she forgot everything except sheer pleasure.
“So sweet,” he whispered thickly. Her low moan sorely tested his control. “Victoria …”
She had never known such pleasure existed, and the only coherent thought in her mind was the desire to feel more. She was hot, cold, shaking, her body a prisoner of the sensations sweeping over it with the relentless rhythm of an ocean’s waves. The hot, wet caress of his tongue seared her skin, and his hand gently squeezed her breast until she thought she’d go out of her mind, until the stiffened nipple thrust free of confining silk and his mouth closed hotly around it.
All her senses were centered there, drawn by his pleasuring mouth, burning with a hunger she had never known. Something inside her, some dimly perceived barrier, melted in the heat of his caress, and she couldn't even find the breath to cry out her astonished delight.
She was hardly aware of his hand sliding down over her quivering belly, but a sudden touch at the vulnerable apex of her thighs jerked an instinctive, shocked protest from her lips. “No! Falcon, don't!”
“Shhh,” he murmured against her skin, his hand rubbing gently through the layers of clothing while his mind vividly imagined the soft, damp warmth too much material hid from him. He wanted to draw her skirt up, find his way through the delicate feminine underthings until he could touch that heat, caress the womanly core of her. His entire body ached with the need to feel her naked and passionate against him. His tongue teased her nipple delicately with tiny, fiery, hungry licks. “Don’t stop me, sweet. So sweet. You taste so good.”
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