Lair of the Lion

  She looked up at him, love shining in her eyes, complete acceptance. Nicolai kissed her again, allowing the fever to rise, allowing his possessive, passionate nature to the forefront.

  He wanted to look at her there with the firelight caressing her body. His hands made short work of her gown, leaving it lying in a frothy pool on the floor. He wanted nothing in his way, not the thinnest barrier. When she was naked, only the fall of her hair to tease him, he moved to stand some distance away from her.

  Isabella stood in front of the fireplace, her hair shining with blue lights. The shadows caressed her breasts, her belly, her legs. She watched his expression, saw the blossoming lust mixed with his love. She saw his breeches grow snug, taut, the material stretching to accommodate him. It was exciting to be entirely naked before him while he was fully clothed. Her nipples were hard peaks of desire, and her body ached with a curling heat she recognized.

  Nicolai walked around her, not touching her, simply looking, drinking her in, devouring her with his hot gaze. He gestured to the bed as he crossed to the bottle of wine sitting on her nightstand. "Go lie down." His voice was husky, a testament to his arousal. He poured himself a glass of wine and sat in the chair beside the fire.

  Isabella walked across the room, aware his eyes tracked her, aware of the sway of her hips, her breasts. She lay back, feeling more sensuous than she ever had in her life. He hadn't touched her, yet every part of her body was alive and pulsing with need.

  "Bend your knees and spread your thighs wide so I can see you, Isabella."

  She watched his face, the hunger etched there so deeply. She was bringing him pleasure, and it was as arousing to her as it was to him. Slowly she obeyed him, allowing the flickering light to shine between her legs, revealing the glistening invitation.

  Nicolai took a slow sip of wine, allowing it to trickle down his throat. She was so beautiful, so everything to him. "Feel your breasts, Isabella. I want you to know your body the way I know it. How perfect it is. Slide your hand down your belly and push your fingers deep inside yourself."

  He expected a shy protest, but Isabella had courage, and she wanted his pleasure as much as her own. She cupped the weight of her breasts in her palms, her thumbs sliding over her nipples. Her breath caught in her throat.

  Nicolai's breath caught in his. His body tightened to the point of pain. His gaze was riveted to her hands, to the beauty of her full, firm breasts spilling out of her palms. He watched as her fingers slid slowly over her curves, caressing her belly, the curve of her hip, then tangled in the tight curls of her mound. His lungs nearly exploded as her fingers disappeared inside her body, as his had often done.

  Her face was turned toward his, flushed with passion, pleasure heightening her beauty. He watched her until her breath was coming in short gasps and her body was quivering, until he could no longer stand to be apart from her. He stood up, set his wineglass down, and began to remove his clothing.

  Isabella lay back and watched him. He looked like a magnificent god, with the firelight stroking the hard angles and planes of his body, with his erection thrusting large and insistent toward her. Nicolai reached out, caught her wrist, and sucked her fingers into the hot, moist cavern of his mouth. Her entire body clenched.

  "Nicolai," she said softly, almost reverently.

  He knelt on the bed between her open legs. "There is no other like you, Isabella." He meant it, too. His head was roaring, his mind numb with need. His body was a fierce ache that felt as if it could never be assuaged. He was enormous, thick and hard and throbbing with urgency. He caught her hips and thrust hard, burying himself deeply with one desperate stroke. It was the most important thing in his world to take her, possess her, to love her to distraction.

  As he pumped his hips hard, guiding her hips with his hands, he watched her face, watched the play of the flickering firelight on her breasts. He watched their bodies come together in perfect accord. Her sheath was hot and tight and fit him as though she'd been made for him. She tilted her hips to take all of him, greedy for every inch, unashamed to show she wanted him the way he wanted her.

  He pounded into her, deep and hot, taking her higher and higher. He felt her body tighten, ripple, clench around his. She cried out, her fingers digging into his arms as she went over the edge. Nicolai kept his gaze glued to hers, woman to man, man to woman, even though his body was primitive with a lusting he'd never experienced. He thrust hard, stroke after stroke, keeping her pleasure so heightened that she was in tears, crying his name, pleading with him.

  When his release came, he poured into her, emptying himself completely. He slumped over her, kissing her breasts, sucking her nipples into his mouth so that her body continued to clench and spiral out of control. They lay together, hearts pounding, breathing hard.

  When he found he could move, he rolled to one side, easing his weight from hers, pulling her onto her stomach. Nicolai trailed his fingertips down the curve of her back. "Do you know what's so beautiful to me? I think of you all the time, the way you are, like this. So willing to let me love you any way I wish. Your trust in me when I have you all to myself."

  "You always bring me such pleasure, Nicolai," she said softly. His hands were kneading her buttocks, her thighs, caressing the small of her back. She loved every new lesson he brought to their bedchamber. She felt lazy and content, as sated as she could possibly be, yet when he bent his head to kiss the side of her breast, his hair spilling across her body, she shivered in reaction.

  He heard the drowsy note in her voice. It teased his senses, heightened his pleasure even more. She was nearly purring with contentment. Nicolai settled close to her, his hand cupping her breast, his thumb sliding over her nipple. "Sleep, amore mia, for now. You'll need to rest. I'm not finished this night." And he knew he wasn't. Her body was warm and soft. Her trust in him, her acceptance of him, her complete giving of herself into his hands, was becoming as necessary to him as breathing.

  Isabella drifted to sleep with a smile curving her mouth. She awakened twice during the night to his lips moving erotically over her body, his hands exploring, memorizing her intimately, his body taking hers. No matter how he possessed her, fast and hard or slow and tender, he ensured she found that ultimate rush of pleasure and then he would kiss her back to sleep.

  Her body was deliciously sore when she awoke in the early-morning hours. She felt well used, happy. Nicolai had crept out, not disturbing her, and the first rays of light were just beginning to slip through the colors of her window. Isabella took her time dressing, often touching the pillow where his head had rested. Their bodies had remained tangled together throughout the night. She knew it was right, meant to be. She belonged with Nicolai. They shared something deep and intimate and well worth fighting for.

  She relieved Francesca, who looked very tired, having spent the night trying to entertain Lucca. He had been restless, coughing, sometimes out of his head with fever, other times teasing her and telling her stories. Isabella watched Francesca tuck the covers around her brother before slipping out to get much-needed rest. Isabella settled down to her sewing. Her tea and breakfast were served to her in her brother's room, and the morning passed quietly until Lucca woke.

  He smiled at her, his dark eyes alive with love. "You did it, Isabella. You saved my life. A miracle. But have I tied you to a monster? What is he like, this don who has claimed my sister?"

  She blushed, feeling the color climbing up her neck. "You've met him. He's wonderful." When he continued to stare at her steadily, she sighed. She had never been able to lie to him. "The stories are true, Lucca. Of the legend, the lions, the man. It's all true. But I love him and want to be with him. He tries to protect me, but in truth, we haven't discovered how to defeat the curse." She blurted it all out to him, every last detail, other than the fact that she had already lain with the don.

  He rubbed his temples, his dark eyes reflecting his inner turmoil. Lucca never wasted time on regrets, on circumstances one couldn't change. "If I can arran
ge your escape, would you leave?"

  She shook her head. "Never."

  "I was afraid you would say that." Admiration crept into his gaze. "Then I guess I have no choice but to get well and guard your back. What of Francesca? I can't imagine her slinking around trying to murder you. She has shown me every kindness."

  Isabella looked at him sharply. There was a note in his voice she had never heard before. "She is a remarkable woman, different, with extraordinary gifts. You be nice to her, Lucca. I see that teasing light in your eyes when she's around."

  He grinned, unrepentant. "She rises so beautifully to the bait, how can I resist?" His smile faded. "Go carefully, Isabella, until I'm stronger and can aid you. If we think this through together, we should be able to find a way out of it."

  "I won't leave him," she declared staunchly.

  Francesca entered with the briefest of knocks. "How are you this morn, Lucca? I awoke and thought I'd come sit with you if you want the company. Isabella, do you have things you wish to be doing?"

  Isabella saw the quick, welcoming smile on her brother's face for the don's sister. She stood up with a small sigh. Lucca had no land, nothing to offer should he decide he wanted Francesca, and she carried the DeMarco legacy in her blood. "Grazie, Francesca." She kissed the top of her brother's head. "I think he's feeling better, so watch out for his teasing." Brushing back his hair, she smiled at Lucca. "You behave."

  Lucca flashed a smirk at her, warming her heart. He was becoming more like his old self every hour.

  Isabella made her way through the castello, aware of the two shadows, the guards Nicolai had ordered to watch over her. She ignored their presence, heading toward the library, her one sanctuary. She was turning over the matter of Francesca and Lucca in her mind. Deep in thought, it took her a while to become aware that the servants she passed were whispering together in groups. Their voices were hushed and agitated.

  She stopped in the middle of the great hall, suddenly afraid the battle with Don Rivellio might have started. Surely Nicolai would have told her, although he had left her bed in the early-morning hours. Worried, she turned toward the nearest group of servants, determined to find out what had made them nervous.

  The whispers stopped the moment Isabella approached, the servants suddenly extraordinarily busy. Even Alberita was dutifully scrubbing at an imaginary speck on the gleaming table in the formal dining room. She kept casting surreptitious glances toward Isabella and then hastily looking away.

  Annoyed, Isabella went in search of Betto. He was talking softly with two other men near one of the entrances to the servants' passage. They stopped speaking and looked at the floor the moment they spotted her.

  "Betto," she said, "I must speak with you."

  He didn't look happy but obediently took his leave from his companions, who hastily escaped. "What is it, signorina?"

  "Exactly the question. What is it? The palazzo is a hotbed of gossip. I've been caring for mio fratello and have not heard it, but it obviously concerns me."

  The man cleared his throat. "I can't possibly know what the servants are gossiping about now."

  Her gaze pinned him. "It's better I hear it from you, Betto. If it is something upsetting, I prefer to hear the news from a trusted friend."

  His shoulders sagged. "Better you hear it from Don DeMarco. He has said if you inquire, I'm to bring you to him."

  She stared at the servant for a long time, so many thoughts racing through her mind she was afraid to move or speak. Surely Nicolai hadn't sent for another bride. Rivellio's men were in the valley. Nicolai would never betray her in a power play. She knew he was busy with his captains, preparing for battle. Why would he have her brought to him simply to repeat gossip?

  She followed Betto slowly up the sweeping staircases to the wing of the don. At his gruff command, she entered his rooms with trepidation. At once his captains excused themselves. Isabella faced Nicolai across the room.

  They looked at one another for a long time. She couldn't read his expression at all, which was faintly shocking when she had just spent the night in his arms. When his body had been buried deep inside of hers. When they had clung to one another, whispering together, sharing laughter, sharing plans. Nicolai looked almost a stranger, his amber eyes flat and hard. He didn't approach her, didn't smile in welcome.

  "What is it, Nicolai?" Deliberately she addressed him informally, hoping to break through his icy demeanor.

  "The servant, the one who locked you in the storehouse, is dead," he said starkly, without inflection.

  A shiver went down her spine. Her blood turned to ice. She kept her gaze locked with his. "How did he die, Nicolai?" Her voice betrayed her, husky with emotion.

  "He was found this morning, murdered. There were signs of a struggle. Someone stabbed him numerous times." His voice was still devoid of expression.

  She waited, knowing there was more. Her heart seemed to be thundering in her ears. She couldn't equate the gentle, loving man she had lain with to someone capable of such a brutal act. Yet Nicolai had gone into many battles, defeated many enemies, was a feared and respected don. He was capable of ordering death and just as capable of killing.

  "There were paw prints all around the body in the snow, though all the lions are hidden. There were no signs of a human approaching him, only the tracks of a lion." He didn't take his eyes from her face, watching her with the unblinking stare of a predator focused on its prey.

  "Am I to believe that you murdered this man, Nicolai? You were with me last night." Her throat felt swollen, threatening to cut off her air.

  "The blood on him was fresh. He was killed in the early-morning hours. I left you well before that time."

  Her lashes swept down to break the contact with his hawklike gaze. He missed nothing; she had no way to hide her slightest thought from him. He read her so easily. Isabella didn't know what to think. She didn't know what he was trying to say. She lifted her chin. "I won't believe it, Nicolai. Why would you murder him? You could have ordered his death, and no one would have blamed you."

  He did move then, turning away from her with a fluid, catlike gesture, power and coordination rippling through his body. His dark hair spilled down his back, a wild mane as untamable as the man. "I despised that man, Isabella. I wanted him dead. Not just dead, I wanted him to suffer first." He made the admission in a low, compelling voice "I let him go because you asked it of me, not because I agreed with you. I wanted to leap on him and tear him to pieces the moment he was brought before me for what he had done to you. For the hours of fear he caused you. For the danger he put you in. For his cowardice in not returning immediately when he realized he had the key, if his story was the truth. I wanted him dead."

  "Wanting him dead doesn't mean you killed him, Nicolai."

  He spun around to face her, looking dangerous and powerful. "I don't care if I did kill him," he said, the words cutting deeply into her heart. "I care that I don't remember. I went out this morn, and I ran. I unleashed the beast to run free."

  She took a moment to compose herself. "Why would you use a knife, Nicolai? That makes no sense. If you used a knife, you would have remembered."

  He shrugged. "I remember last eve when he stood in this room and admitted he locked you in that storehouse, I wanted to shove my stiletto through his throat." His gaze met hers without flinching. "I won't apologize for who I am, Isabella. And I'll never apologize for wanting to destroy any enemy who dares to try to take you from me. I'll never apologize for my feelings for you. Not only am I willing to die for you, but I'm more than willing to kill for you. And I'm not apologizing for that either."

  "I've never asked you to," she replied quietly. She was grateful for her father's training, for the composure she managed when each of his revelations had shaken her to her core. "If you'll excuse me, Nicolai, I must attend mio fratello."

  He padded across the floor then, his footfalls silent, his amber eyes burning. "Not yet, Isabella. Don't leave me yet. I want to look into your ey
es and see what I've destroyed between us."

  She titled her head, her eyes meeting his without flinching. "I don't think you can destroy anything between us. I love you with all my heart. All my soul. Confess all you want, Nicolai, show me your worst side, I will still love you." She reached up, caught his face in her hands, and kissed him hard. Her eyes blazed into his. "And know this, Nicolai DeMarco. Should the worst happen and the beast is let loose and destroys me, I will never regret what we share, what we are together. I love every inch of you. Even that part of you that is capable of destroying me."

  When she would have turned away from him, he tightened his hold on her and brought his head down to hers to claim her mouth. Love welled up, nearly overwhelmed him, nearly unmanned him. It swept through him with the force of an avalanche and shook him to the very center of his being.

  Chapter Nineteen

  The knock on the door made Isabella's heart pound. It was loud, insistent, heralding grim news. Nicolai retained possession of her wrist but turned toward the sound, his face once more an expressionless mask.

  Captains Bartolmei and Drannacia hurried in, sketching quick salutes. "He's on the move, Don DeMarco. One of the birds has returned and brings word." Drannacia glanced at Isabella and bowed low, apologetically. "We feared the news couldn't wait."

  "Grazie," Nicolai said and bent unhurriedly to once more take possession of Isabella's mouth. "There's no need to worry," he whispered against her lips "I'll return shortly."

  She suddenly found that she loved the savage side of him, reveled in it. That part of him would enable him to defend their valley, defeat Rivellio. That part of Nicolai would keep him safe for her and return him to her. "I shall be very, very angry should you receive so much as a scratch from that hateful man," she cautioned him, keeping a smile plastered to her face in spite of the tightening in her chest.

  "And I shall be very, very angry with you if you are not waiting here when I return. No adventures, cara mia." The pad of his thumb slid in a long caress over her sensitive inner wrist.

  "I have plenty with which to occupy myself," she replied. "I'm most grateful. Theresa and Violante are here already. When the people come in from the farms and villaggi, I will need their assistance."