Immortal Surrender (Curse of the Templars)

by Claire Ashgrove

She blinked. For a moment, he feared she would refuse. He knew not why it mattered, but the possibility left him holding his breath. He wanted to know. Needed to understand.

  At the nodding of her head, his anxiety dissipated. She gave him a shy smile, then tugged on his arm to draw him closer to her tools. “Everything has a carbon footprint. It comes from an unstable isotope, carbon 14, which is formed by the earth’s atmosphere when cosmic neutrons hit nitrogen 14.”

  She spit the foreign terms out so quickly, Farran’s eyes widened. Saints’ blood, he had not realized she was versed in multiple languages.

  Her soft chuckle sent heat to his cheeks. Nay, he was wrong. The light in her eyes laughed at him. He shifted, suddenly uncomfortable with his age.

  “I’m sorry.” Rising to tiptoe, she placed a kiss on his cheek. “All you need to know is everything living has carbon 14. When an object dies, carbon 14 is frozen, more or less, within it. To find it, we take samples, combust them, then pass them through chemicals. The process gives off a gas, which this machine analyzes and counts the particles.” She tapped the cylinder. “This is a gas proportional counter. It can give a rudimentary age, but my lab uses the accelerator mass spectrometry method, which destroys less of the sample artifact and determines age by passing liquid carbon through light refractors.”

  He listened as she walked him through the process. Now and then, when she sensed his lack of understanding, she backtracked to clarify the scientific terms that flowed so smoothly from her tongue. The confident scientist who emerged in the place of the shy, modest woman he had put to bed the night before captivated him. She hesitated not. Carried herself with grace as she maneuvered him around the room. And her zeal for her work was naught less than catching. Before he realized what had happened, he found himself asking questions, encouraging her to tell him more. Anything that would keep her face aglow with excitement and those mesmerizing eyes shining bright.

  And by the saints, she excited him. With every hard beat of his heart, heat flowed through his veins. The slight touch of her hand when she set it absently on his arm drove him to distraction. Her voice caressed, until he could not take another moment of its silken feel. As she led him past the end of the table, he dragged her to a stop. Gathering her in his arms, he crushed her against his chest. Her mouth dropped open in surprise, and Farran used the moment to his full advantage.

  He backed her into the wall and pressed his body along the length of hers. He braced his hands on the hard stone at her shoulders, dipped his head, and captured her mouth. She offered no resistance as he nudged her lips apart and indulged in her sweet flavor. The kiss was hot, full of all the relentless yearning that coursed through him like a tidal wave. Where their bodies met, heat ebbed and flowed between them. And the subtle undulation of her hips swelled his cock to painful limits.

  He dropped his hands to her waist to still the restless pursuit of her body. If she did not cease, he would take her here. Against the wall. Oblivious to the unlocked door and unconcerned with the fact anyone might stumble upon them. But his hands acted on their own accord. His fingers dug into her hips, drawing her close even as he pressed her flat to the stone. His body knew what it wanted, and he was helpless against it.

  She sensed his need and slipped her hand between their bodies. Great horns of alarm went off as her fingers fumbled with the button to his jeans. He should stop. Back away. Take her upstairs where he could spread her on the bed. God help him, though, he could not bring himself to move. The velvety stroke of her tongue, the short breaths she sucked in through her nose, spiraled him beyond all measure of self-control.

  When her fingers slipped beneath the denim and encircled his throbbing shaft, he cursed himself for teaching her so precisely. His hips bucked forward at her firm squeeze. The slow pump of her hand stirred a soul-deep groan. His body quaked as she manipulated him into hewn stone, and on a raspy gasp, he tore his mouth from hers too dazed to do naught else but breathe.

  “Jesu, Noelle…” His body convulsed, and he sank his forehead to her shoulder. Ecstasy poured through him, bright and burning. With one last heedless thrust, he felt the warmth of his seed trickle down his abdomen. God’s teeth, ’twas not what he wanted. She must think him weak.

  The constriction in his chest eased enough to allow him a normal breath, and still panting, he lifted his gaze to hers. Heat blazed in her fawnlike eyes, along with something else. Something Farran could not believe.

  Happiness. The same elation he had witnessed when she launched herself into his arms glowed fierce.

  “You want me.”

  She said it not with accusation, as if she sought to hold his lapse over his head. Nor did she gloat as if she had set out to prove his weakness. Nay, her simple observation held a note of wonder. She had doubted? After the eve they spent together?

  “Aye, Noelle.” He grazed his teeth along the delicate skin at the side of her throat. “But not like this.” Reluctantly he took a step back.

  “Don’t move,” she ordered quietly before she ducked beneath his arm. From the nearby table she retrieved a scrap of cloth on which she dried her hand. Returning to him, she cleaned his belly, then planted a chaste kiss on his lips.

  A knock at the door interrupted the blissful innocence of her mouth, and Farran hastened to fasten his jeans. “Aye?” he barked, displeased at the interruption.

  Anne’s merry voice called out, “I’ve come to collect Noelle for swords.”

  Farran looked to the door, then back at Noelle. He could not stomach the idea of sharing her company with others. He had let go as Caradoc advised, and now he wished to bask in the glory of true feeling. He would not stand to have that freedom interrupted by the necessity of cloaking all he felt for this woman from the eyes of men.

  “Nay, Anne,” he answered roughly. “I shall see to Noelle’s lessons tonight.”

  Noelle’s light laugh cascaded through the room. “Why do I have a feeling your lessons have nothing to do with swords?”

  He shook his head. “We shall practice in the arena. Your safety comes first.”

  Though her smile did not falter, he detected a touch of disappointment within her bright eyes. That she yearned for the same things he did sent a fresh rush of heat through his veins. Yet he would not be swayed from duty so easily this time. She must learn to defend herself.

  He reached for her hand. She twined her fingers through his. Drawing her close he bent his head and drew his teeth along the delicate shell of her ear. He suckled at her earlobe, then released it to murmur against the hollow beneath, “The lessons you speak of, I will grant after. If you shall allow me.”

  He felt her shudder. Heard the catch of her breath. Beneath his lips, her throat worked to swallow. On an airy exhale she whispered, “I will.”

  CHAPTER 29

  Noelle stumbled backward against the ferocity of Farran’s advance. Though he used less than half his strength, as his sword came down hard against the middle of her blade, pain sizzled up her arm. She let out a yelp and dropped her smaller weapon. It clattered to the tiled floor at his feet.

  Wide-eyed she met his wicked grin. “That’s unfair. I tripped, and you know it.”

  “Nay. Such is battle. You look for your opponent’s weakness and manipulate it to your advantage. You could have easily nicked me under the arm as you recovered.” He took a step back and his eyes assumed a harsher light. “And you should have.”

  Frustrated beyond all measure, she resisted the overwhelming urge to scream. “But you aren’t wearing any armor. I’d have hurt you.”

  His long fair locks brushed against his shoulder as he shook his head. “I would have healed. You, however, would have learned a valuable lesson.”

  He had a point. Though the healing was debatable, she’d realized her error the moment victory leapt to his eyes. From that point on, he’d been relentless in his attack, offering no quarter to the arc of his arm and searing slice of his blade.

  She muttered beneath her breath, too ashamed
of her error to admit it aloud, and bent for her sword.

  Farran set a booted toe on the pommel. “Nay, no more.” With catlike grace, he bent over and retrieved the weapon. Rising, he tucked it into his belt beside his now-sheathed broadsword. “You are good, Noelle. ’Twill not be long before you can stand against me as my equal, but you have much to learn. And you are weary. When we began tonight, you would not have made such a careless mistake.”

  He clasped both her hands in his much larger ones and brought them to his lips. Light stubble on his chin scraped pleasantly as he pressed a kiss to her knuckles. His gaze shifted, darkening in hue, and filling with the same hot light she’d witnessed every time he kissed her. “Besides, we have other sport to practice.”

  A flush crept over her chest, up her neck, and into her cheeks. She averted her gaze in a desperate attempt to hide the way the same heat spread through her belly, down lower to stir the ache between her legs. He caught her chin in his calloused palm and lifted her face. His eyes searched hers like a falcon watching prey before it swept in for the kill. To her shame, her body betrayed her and her nipples pebbled.

  Farran’s gaze dipped down to her breasts, and a satisfied smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. He slid the hand beneath her chin down her throat, over her collarbone, and traced one tight peak with a solitary fingertip. She closed her eyes as every last nerve ending above her waist rose to attention. Her womb clamped down so hard her lungs felt tight. She craved the feel of his palm. Yearned to have him close those fingers around her taut flesh and massage.

  Instead, Farran turned his back to her. With her hand tucked securely in his, he led her from the room, down the hall, and up the stairs. Each step led her closer to the inevitable moment she’d brazenly agreed to. Now, as it loomed closer, her damnable modesty rose up to cry foul. She didn’t do these things. Couldn’t. She shouldn’t go to bed with a man who made it clear he didn’t intend to stick around.

  But the idea of denying him brought even greater discomfort. She wanted this. Wanted him. Everything he had to give. And that fierce longing kept her moving forward through her door, into the bedroom beyond.

  He didn’t stop at the bed as she’d expected. On the contrary, he led her into the bathroom where he turned on the tub. Stark terror turned the blood in her veins to ice. He couldn’t mean for them to bathe together, could he? It was easy to tend his arousal, to bring him to pleasure. But let him witness her undressed? Last night she’d found freedom only once she had her clothes partially back on. She’d never survive the mortification of peeling them off right in front of him in the bathroom. At least in the bedroom, they could turn off the lights. She wouldn’t have to look at herself to know how inadequate she was. But this … This involved bright lights and a complete lack of covers to hide beneath.

  “W-what are you doing?” she stammered as she looked for a quick means of escape.

  He reached a hand behind him, grabbed the collar of his long-sleeved shirt, and doffed it in one quick motion. At the sight of all that smooth bronzed skin, her pulse leapt into her throat. But the sight also intensified the terrified quiver of her belly.

  “We will share your bath.”

  Oh crap. No! She backed toward the archway that divided the room from the bed. Not in a hundred lifetimes. And most especially not on the very first night she made love to a man. He might have seen her naked last night for a few brief moments, but this was altogether different. She could excuse last night to hedonistic impulse. This spoke of planning. Deliberateness.

  “Do not run. ’Twill be enjoyable.”

  Right. Kind of like having her fingernails plucked out at the root. Maybe he’d get a kick out of it, but standing before him when he could take full count of all her imperfections was the last place she wanted to be.

  Denying her opportunity to retreat, Farran caught the hem of her shirt in his hands. He tugged it over her head before she could protest, then reached around her back to unclasp her bra. Slow, unhesitating fingers drew the loose straps over her shoulders, down her arms, off her hands.

  She stood before him exposed. Alec’s long-ago words bellowed in her head. God, Noelle, you could pass for a guy, you’re so flat. To alleviate the embarrassment that accompanied the unwanted memory, she crossed her arms over her chest. “Really, Farran, this isn’t a good idea.”

  Oblivious to her discomfort, he settled his hands on her waist. One firm tug erased the distance between them and brought her into his arms. With one hand, he caressed the length of her back. The other freed the button at her waist and eased the zipper on her jeans apart. Thick fingers slid beneath the denim to push the garment over her hips.

  As he shucked his own, cool air kissed her skin. She shivered as goose bumps broke out in the wake of the chill. But the frigid sensation brought another awareness front and center. He hadn’t just removed her jeans. He’d taken her panties with them.

  Feeling much like a mouse trapped by a hungry cat, Noelle crossed an ankle over the other and attempted to huddle into herself. She couldn’t bear the thought of looking at him, of seeing the disappointment in his eyes.

  The hand returned to her chin and tipped her head up where she couldn’t hope to avoid his frown. “What troubles you, angel?”

  No way could she tell him. She’d sound like a stupid fool, and the same thing that happened last night would occur again. She’d run him off. Spoil everything. She couldn’t stand that possibility. Not when all she wanted was to do this differently. Preferably in a manner that gave her room to hide. Like in the bedroom, without the lights.

  “N-nothing.”

  His brows dove downward as his frown deepened. He cocked his head to the side and studied her. Slowly one eyebrow crept into a curious arch. The creases in his forehead smoothed. And as understanding filtered into his unblinking gaze, Farran gave her a tender smile.

  He trailed his fingertips around the curve of her breasts and gently lifted them into his palms. His rough whisper soothed some of her discomfort. “Look, damsel. How perfectly you fit into my hands. Nay, do not close your eyes. Look, Noelle.”

  Hesitantly, she did as he asked. Her skin stood out against his, a surprisingly pleasant contrast of creamy white and sun-kissed tan. He stroked with his thumbs, massaged with his fingers. His caress held deliberateness, but the feeling was nothing less than heavenly. Her nipples puckered tight, and the soft flesh rose to attention, hungry for more.

  In answer, Farran rolled the hard buds beneath the pad of his thumb. Shock arced down her spine, tingling in its wake, and Noelle let out a sharp gasp. Arching her back, she invited him to indulge.

  He did, but not in the way she had anticipated. With a half step backward, he dipped his head and swirled his tongue around one aching point. Through heavy-lidded eyes, he looked up to her, the light in them full of wicked promise. As long lashes fluttered shut, he drew her nipple into his hot mouth and suckled.

  The sight of her flesh sliding against those sensual lips turned her inside out. The aching between her legs that had vanished at the prospect of a bath returned tenfold, and she squirmed to find relief from the growing pressure in her womb. When he scraped his cheek across her skin and exchanged one turgid nipple for the other, she felt herself grow shamefully wet. Breathing became a chore more difficult than thinking. Thought was a thing of the past. He took her back to the place where linking words together became impossible and sensation dominated.

  As he dominated her.

  He lifted his head, nuzzled the deep valley of her cleavage. His chest heaved as hers did, the fall of his harsh breath matching the wild intensity of his gaze. “Watch,” he murmured. “’Tis naught to be ashamed of. You fit me as no other could.” As he spoke, his hand drifted down her belly. Lower. Fingers slid through intimate curls, and his warm palm cupped her feminine flesh. He pressed a thick finger to her moistened folds and rubbed the sensitive nub there. “Like so. Does it feel naught else but right?”

  Oh sweet merciful God in heaven. Yes.
Yes it did. But she couldn’t get her throat to work and answer. She choked out a whimper as her body moved against his touch. Dimly, she realized she’d just acknowledged the creator he wanted her to believe in, but with the next fantastic press of his hand, the oddity spiraled out of her mind. She grabbed at his shoulders to steady her weak knees and lifted her hips into his palm.

  Farran’s mouth tracked a hot moist path across her throat, skimmed over her cheek, and rested briefly on hers before he murmured, “You are not watching.” His eyes held hers, tawny depths scorching like fire. Then he slid his gaze away, raking a scalding path down the length of her body as he looked to where he touched her.

  Against her will, her eyes followed his. She watched in fascination as he slowly slid a finger through the length of her quivering sex and withdrew his hand. Moisture glistened on his fingertip, dampness that embarrassed her yet brought to life sinfully vivid visions of erotic play. She glanced in the mirror wanting to see them both, wanting to somehow verify this perfection he spoke of.

  He refused to let her. Capturing her chin between thumb and forefinger, he turned her head toward him, brought her gaze back down between their bodies. “Do you see how you affect me? My hunger for you is insatiable. If you were flawed, I would not ache for you.”

  His arousal was impossible to ignore. His shaft stood at full attention, thick and anxious. As if he felt the heat of her stare, his erection bobbed. A bead of moisture gathered on the smooth head. In a strange, surreal way, she knew when he took her, Farran would treat her with the same gentleness he gave her now. He would take away her pain, as he erased her fears each time he took her in his arms.

  Farran settled his hands on her hips. Holding her in place, he angled his body into alignment with hers. “We will fit together just as perfectly.” The gravelly tone of his voice agitated the restless hum in her blood. Time moved at a sloth’s pace as Noelle stood trapped in the enveloping heat of Farran’s body, unable to look away. Hard and hot, his shaft nudged at the juncture of her thighs. Slipped between her sensitive skin to slide along the slick folds of her sex. His body moved in. Molded their hips together.