Gift of Fire

  His hands tightened of her shoulders. “I swear, one of these days, lady, you’re going to go too far.”

  She touched his wrists, her eyes searching his. “Jonas, forget Slade. What happened to you tonight?”

  He eyed her thoughtfully. “I touched something I shouldn’t have. A floor stone.”

  “I felt you reaching for me. I was so worried. That’s why I came back to the room early.”

  “Next time lock the door, Verity.” His mouth closed roughly over hers. “I can’t take seeing another man put his hands on you,” he said against her lips. “I just can’t handle it.”

  Verity gasped, aware of the violent rage still burning beneath the hot desire that gripped Jonas. His tongue thrust into her mouth, warning of the more intimate kind of possession that would soon follow. He pulled her more tightly against his body, as if he half-expected her to try to slip away from him.

  “Jonas,” she managed, “we need to talk.”

  “You talk too much,” he muttered thickly. “I’ve decided it’s one of your biggest problems.” He then picked her up and carried her to the bed. He tossed her down onto the quilt and began unfastening his jeans.

  Verity sat up, pushing her hair out of her eyes. “I’m serious, Jonas. Something happened tonight, didn’t it? Something unusual, even for you. I want to know what’s going on.”

  “I’ll tell you what’s going on. Every time I turn around these days you’re sliding out of my reach. Don’t think I haven’t noticed, I’m not blind. I’ve seen that strange look in your eyes lately. I’ve seen the way you stop right in the middle of something and just stand there, staring off into the distance. I’ve felt you thinking your secret, private thoughts, Verity—thoughts you don’t share with me.”

  “For heaven’s sake, Jonas…”

  “Then I come home from Mexico and find you’ve been hurt, and some other guy is carrying you through your front door—our front door. I walk into this room tonight, our bedroom, and discover that some jerk has felt free to invite himself in.”

  “Jonas, you’re being irrational about this.”

  “Something’s going on all right, Verity. You’re starting to wonder if you made the right decision when you let me into your life, aren’t you? You’re starting to have second thoughts about us. But I’ve got news for you, little tyrant. It’s too late. You belong to me, and I’m going to see to it that you never forget it.” He stepped out of his boots and jeans and sat down heavily on the bed.

  Verity backed across the quilt away from him. He reached out and caught her hand, checking her retreat.

  “Jonas. Let me go.”

  He ignored her small cry of outrage as he rolled over to pin her beneath him. His eyes blazed. “I’m not going to let you get away from me, Verity. Don’t you understand? I can’t let you get away from me.”

  “Jonas, please, we have to talk.”

  “I’ve already told you, you talk too much.” He started to peel off her robe. “You’re always using your mouth to communicate when you should be using something else. Something that’s a lot more honest. Something I can understand.”

  Thoroughly annoyed, Verity started to struggle. “Dammit, Jonas, this is no way to communicate. Let me up! I want to talk to you. I mean it. Pay attention when I speak to you.”

  But Jonas paid no attention. He yanked the robe free and anchored her wrists above her head so that she lay there helpless and inviting. Then he reached down and grabbed the hem of her flannel nightgown, pulling it up above her waist.

  In spite of her determination to control the situation, Verity felt the excitement flaring in her. This was Jonas, who could set her on fire with just a touch. This was the man she loved with all her heart.

  But he had a disconcerting habit of resorting to sex when he lost his patience. The typical male approach to a problem, she thought resentfully. When the brain ceases to function, fall back on the brawn.

  Verity lost her temper. She twisted violently and kicked out at him with her good foot. “Let me go, you big oaf.”

  “Lie still, you loud-mouthed shrew.” When she responded by kicking him again, he pinned her legs down with one of his own. “Now I’m really getting irritated.” He used his weight to hold her still while he wrestled the nightgown up over her head.

  “Do you think I care if you’re irritated?” Her eyes sparkled with anger and hungry excitement.

  “You better care.” Once he had her nightgown off, he used his free hand to reach over the edge of the bed and grab his belt.

  Verity’s eyes widened in disbelief. “You wouldn’t dare.”

  “I’ve had it with your weird behavior lately,” Jonas told her as he quickly captured both her wrists and bound them with the leather. He looped the free end of the belt around one of the canopy posts and inserted it back through the loop that held her wrists. She was chained to the bed.

  “Jonas, you’re fired!” It was the only threat she still had left. Verity struggled uselessly against the binding leather.

  “You can’t fire me and you know it. You already tried it once, and it didn’t work.” He watched her as she lay glowering helplessly up at him. “Listen to me, Verity, and listen good. If you’re thinking of ending things between us, you’ve got a surprise coming. You can’t get rid of me that easily.”

  “I don’t have to work at getting rid of you. You take off all by yourself when the mood grabs you. Five days in Mexico without a phone call, Jonas. Five whole days.”

  “Christ, are you still holding that against me?” He scowled. “I thought we had that settled. I thought you understood.”

  “All I understand is that you feel free to take off whenever you want to, and you don’t even bother to call.”

  “I told you, I couldn’t get to a phone. And don’t start trying to blame me for your spaced-out attitude lately. It started before I went to Mexico.”

  “Can you blame me if I need to think things over?” she retorted furiously. “This is a damn strange relationship we have, Jonas Quarrel.” She tugged meaningfully on the leather belt. “Any woman in her right mind would want to think very seriously about what she was getting herself into by agreeing to live with you.”

  “I knew it. You have been thinking about us, haven’t you? Plotting and scheming, I’ll bet.”

  “So what if I have? That’s a perfectly normal reaction ,under the circumstances, I’d say.”

  “Thinking is never normal for you. I don’t trust the way your mind works,” he muttered.

  “Tough. It’s my mind.”

  “Yeah? Well, here’s something for your brain to think about.” He shoved his knee between her legs, forcing her open for his touch. Then he reached down and put his palm against the vulnerable softness he had exposed.

  “Jonas, you bastard.” But she could already feel herself dampening his hand.

  “Tell me you don’t want me. Go ahead and tell me you’re ready to ditch me.” He kept his warm palm where it was, pushing gently at her.

  Verity arched her hips instinctively, and Jonas eased his thumb into her wet channel. He probed her deeply, teasing her until the small, delicate muscles clenched around his finger. Verity gasped. “One of these days, Jonas. So help me, one of these days I’m going to...”

  “I love you, Verity.”

  “You’ve got a funny way of showing it.” She struggled helplessly against the leather strap. She felt his warm breath on her nipple and he sucked it gently into his mouth. Her body was flooded with hot, shivering anticipation.

  “With you a man has to express himself in unusual ways.”

  He moved slowly down her body, tasting every inch of her as he went. Verity could feel the steel-hard shaft of his manhood thrusting eagerly against her thigh.

  “Jonas, you can be so damn infuriating.”

  “Tell me you love me.” He teased the
small nub of sensation hidden in the fiery curls below her stomach. “Say it, Verity.”

  “You know damn well I love you.” She wriggled deliciously and opened her thighs a little wider.

  “Say it.”

  “I love you. Now quit fooling around with the bondage-and-discipline bit and make love to me.”

  “I thought you’d never ask.” Jonas settled himself between her legs.

  “Get rid of the belt,” Verity ordered, her voice husky with desire.

  “Why? I kind of like you this way. Very sexy. Lift your hips higher. That’s it.” He knelt between her legs, parted her softness with his fingers, and pushed himself slowly, inevitably into her. When she tensed, he deliberately pushed harder. “Yeah, baby, that’s exactly right.” He leaned forward, bracing himself on his arms.

  Verity moaned and closed her eyes as he filled her with his throbbing manhood. Her body was flooded with wave after wave of heat.

  “Now move that beautiful tail, sweetheart. Come on, show me just how much you really love me.”

  “There must be a law against this sort of thing.” Verity inhaled sharply as he squeezed her round derriere. Her pulse thrummed.

  “You and I make up our own laws in bed. Move it, honey,” he ordered again. This time his voice was low and infinitely sexy. He used his hand to guide her buttocks in a small circle. She responded at once.

  “Jonas.”

  “That’s it, love. Yeah, that’s what I want. Jesus, sweetheart. So hot and tight. You make me crazy. See if you can take me a little deeper now. You can do it. I want to go as far as I can. Wrap your legs around me. Such beautiful, soft legs. Come on, honey, I want you to know I’m there.”

  “Ah, Jonas, Jonas.”

  “Damn, you feel good, honey.”

  He was stretching her, filling her completely, easing himself in and out slowly as she moved her hips in an increasingly frantic rhythm. She could feel the fire twisting inside her, waiting to explode.

  When it did, he was caught up in it with her. His hoarse shout of satisfaction mingled with her small cries as together they gave themselves to the flames.

  It was typical of Jonas to make love to her so outrageously, Verity thought fleetingly; typical of him to resort to this approach when he wanted to make a point; typical of him to overwhelm her with passion when she wanted to have a serious discussion about their relationship.

  It was also very typical of him to have performed the whole scene while making absolutely certain he never once jolted her injured ankle.

  Slade Spencer opened his eyes when the cold rain hit his face. He hurt all over. That goddamned bastard had had no right to hit him like that, no right at all. Spencer couldn’t help it if women liked him. If Quarrel wanted to punish someone, he ought to beat his little flirt of a girlfriend. Verity had been coming on to Spencer all evening, he knew the signs. But, as usual, Slade had gotten the blame.

  Quarrel was just like all the others, and Spencer was getting damned tired of being treated like dirt. One of these days he was going to show them all.

  Groaning, he heaved himself up over the side of the empty fountain pool. He felt sick to his stomach. He waited a moment, breathing heavily while his insides settled. He was shaking.

  He needed a pill—two. Unfortunately, the ones the doctors at the clinic had given him didn’t seem to be doing much good anymore. But then, what did those stupid doctors know? No one understood him, Spencer realized. No one really wanted to help him. Everyone was against him. He’d come to realize that years ago.

  He’d take a couple of those prescription pills when he got back to his room, but then he’d take a couple of the tabs he’d bought from his dealer last month. Those suckers really worked. When he was on them, he felt good. They made him feel in command of himself. It was good to feel in control.

  Spencer climbed slowly out of the pool and trudged toward the villa’s dark entrance. The rain beat down on him, and he asked himself for what seemed the thousandth time why everything he tried to do in life turned to shit.

  It was a rhetorical question. Slade knew why everything always went wrong for him. Everyone was out to get him. It was him against the world.

  And he always lost.

  Chapter Six

  “I just want you to know that one of these days, I’ll get even.” Verity stirred languidly, turning on her side and propping herself up on one elbow. She picked up the leather belt Jonas had used to bind her and trailed the buckle through the wiry hair on his chest. “You’ll never know when it’s coming. But someday, somewhere, when you least expect it, zap! You’re gonna get it.” Jonas flashed a wicked, laughing grin. “Really getting into the leather-and-bondage bit, huh?” He took hold of the belt and tugged it free of her grasp. He then dropped it over the edge of the bed and it clunked on the floor.

  Verity managed a reasonably severe glare. “No, I am not getting into leather and bondage. I was forced into it. You’re the one who likes kinky sex. I used to be such a nice girl before I met you.”

  He put a hand behind her head and pulled her close for a quick, hard kiss. “Damn, but I love corrupting you,” he said with great satisfaction. “You take to it so naturally. Ouch! Dammit,” he added as Verity slapped his bare thigh.

  Verity’s hand stung from the blow, but she decided it was worth it. She sat up and crossed her legs. “Okay, Jonas, enough with the distracting fun and games. As usual, sex has made you relaxed and indulgent, so now I expect a few answers.”

  “Relaxed and indulgent. Is that what sex does for me?”

  “Sure. Haven’t you ever noticed? You come on like a lion, so to speak, and pull out like a lamb.”

  “A lamb?” He looked disappointed.

  “Lamb, kitten, poodle, whatever.” Verity waved her hand to indicate a whole world of limp, cuddly things that included the present state of his manhood.

  “If I weren’t feeling so relaxed and indulgent, I’d argue that point with you.”

  “Later, maybe. Right now I want some answers.”

  Jonas turned his head on the pillow, enjoying the direct view he had of her triangle of soft hair. “How can I concentrate hard enough to answer questions when all I can see is your pretty little…”

  Verity pulled a sheet over her legs. “Talk about a one-track mind.”

  “You never want me to have any fun,” he complained, his eyes bright with laughter.

  “You’re right. All fun and no work makes Jonas a very poor boy. Back to business. What happened tonight when you went gallivanting through the corridors of Hazelhurst’s Horror?”

  “You have no respect for four-hundred-year-old architecture?”

  “Not when it looks like this place. Quit stalling and tell me what happened.” Verity’s eyes grew serious. “I got a scare tonight, Jonas. I could feel you coming very close to something dangerous.”

  “I know. I could feel you there with me.”

  “But where were you?”

  “Clear over in the north wing. Second floor.”

  “But that’s a long way from where I was. You were much too far away for us to connect.”

  He sat up against the pillows, his golden eyes becoming as serious as hers. “The link was weak but you were with me. Both of us felt it. I think the connection between us is growing stronger, Verity.”

  Verity tugged the sheet more closely around her, covering her breasts. She glanced distractedly toward the window. “It’s chilly in here, isn’t it? It must cost a fortune just to keep this wing heated. No wonder the Warwicks want to unload this place as soon as possible.”

  “It scares you, doesn’t it?” Jonas asked quietly. “Is that why you’ve been acting so distant lately? You’ve sensed the link between us getting stronger, and you’re not sure you want that?”

  “I haven’t been acting distant,” Verity said forcefully. “I’ve jus
t been doing some thinking, that’s all. Now tell me exactly what happened this evening.”

  Jonas folded his hands behind his head and regarded her for a long moment. “I found the place where the crystal was hidden. The hiding place was empty, which was no surprise. But the booby trap that had been left to guard it still worked just fine.”

  “Oh, my God. What kind of booby trap?”

  A stiletto sunk between two stones in the floor. Pressure on the hollow stone where the crystal had been triggered the spring mechanism that activated the blade. It was designed to strike the intruder in a very sensitive part of his anatomy.

  Typical Renaissance mind at work behind the design—clever and brutal.”

  “A spring mechanism? And it still functioned after all these years?”

  “Luckily Hazelhurst’s diary mentioned it. Apparently old Digby was so delighted with his discovery that he oiled the mechanism and got it working again.”

  Verity groaned. “What a nitwit Hazelhurst must have been.”

  Jonas looked annoyed at her lack of understanding. “He wasn’t a fool. He was just a scholar who was really into his subject. I can see why he did it. I might have done the same thing. There’s a certain thrill in making a four-hundred-year-old gadget work again.”

  “Nonsense. The booby trap should have been destroyed once and for all,” Verity said resolutely.

  “Obviously you have the sort of mind that’s incapable of appreciating the esoteric joys of true historical scholarship,” Jonas said with grand condescension.

  “Really? What sort of mind do I have?” Verity retorted with an artificially sweetened smile.

  “A feminine mind.”

  “Like I said, Jonas. One of these days...”

  “Promises, promises.”

  “You’ll see,” Verity said benignly. “You’re going to regret everything. One of these days, I’ll have you begging for mercy. Now tell me about that brief flash you had when you got too near the hidden stiletto. I caught some of it, just enough to get the feeling someone had died there. Was that what you saw?”