B00CGOH3US EBOK (40 page)

It seemed like forever before she heard his footsteps approaching. She pulled out his dagger, just in case, and exhaled the breath she'd been holding when Baelin's tall form stepped into the firelight.

"What did you do with it?"

"'Tis gone."

Visions of every old vampire and
Night of the Living Dead
zombie movie flashed through her head. "Are you sure it's dead? It won't come back to life or anything?"

Baelin shook his head. "I burned it. That particular creature will not be returning to torment us, nor will it reach its Queen with tales of where we are."

Jill breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank God."

She shivered and Baelin sat near her. Close, but not near enough to touch. "My lady, do not tremble so. I regret you had to witness that. If there had been any other way of retrieving the tapestry without causing you such distress, I would have done it."

"Don't worry. Believe it or not, I'm pretty much over it already. I guess because it wasn't really human, it wasn't as bad as the last time." Realizing the truth of her words, she chuckled humorlessly as her body gave one last shutter. "Either that, or I'm starting to get used to the savagery of this place. Now there's a scary thought."

It pained her to watch his broad shoulders sag under the weight of some perceived guilt over what she'd just said.

"Would that I could pluck the bad memories from your mind, so that when you return to your time, you will have only fond ones of your days spent here and not think of me with loathing."

Jill read the concern in his eyes. He was worried she would run from him again, as she'd done the first time she'd seen him kill.

But now she knew the truth—there was no safer place than by his side.

"I could never hate you, Baelin. And I do have a few good memories, thanks to you."

He snorted and a residual smoke ring curled out of his nose. "Now I know you do not speak the truth. In your short time here, you have experienced naught but pain and death while you have been with me."

"If I recall correctly, I sort of volunteered for this job."

Baelin shook his head. "As I recall, you had no choice."

"Yeah, well, I guess neither of us did, thanks to this curse of yours."

She turned the tattered corner over in her hand and ran her finger along the ragged edge. "Do you think with the tapestry damaged, our chances of breaking the curse are ruined now?"

"Only time will tell."

He pulled the larger piece of the tapestry from his belt and unrolled it in his lap. Jill leaned over and lined up the torn section with the larger piece.

"I suppose I could try to sew it together."

"Perhaps, if we had needle and thread, but we do not."

"It's just as well. I couldn't sew a straight stitch if my life depended on it."

He placed the torn corner in the middle of the tapestry and rolled it back up, before tucking it once again into his belt. "I will keep this with me from now on, where I know it will be safe."

"Right. You do a better job of guarding it. Every time I manage to get my hands on it, bad things seem to happen."

"That is not true." His deep voice resonated with heartfelt conviction.

"Oh, yes it is. The first time I touched the thing, it zapped me back to the Middle Ages. The next time I had it, I ended up holding a hot poker in my hands. And the last time, Gollum's ugly little sister tried to steal it and probably ruined our chances of breaking the curse in the process. I'm obviously bad luck when it comes to that tapestry."

"I do not see it as such."

Jill snorted. "How can you not?"

"However it seems, all may not be lost. Though torn, the tapestry is once again safely in our possession, when by all odds it should be gone forever. The second time, you passed the first challenge. As painful and unpleasant as it was, it was meant to happen. And the first time…I do not think bad at all, because it brought you here to me."

A lump formed in Jill's throat. He was talking about fate and destiny and things meant to be. As much as she wanted to disagree with him, she couldn't shake the feeling he spoke the truth and she was right where she was supposed to be.

"If things were different…If I were different…" Baelin stumbled over the words. "Forgive me. I cannot speak the flowery words as Sir Roderick does. But if we succeed and the curse is broken…" He stopped and poked a stick into the fire.

"What?" she prodded.

He shook his head, keeping his gaze glued to the flames. "If the curse is broken, you will return to your time, therefore what I was about to say matters not."

But it did matter. It mattered a lot. And she needed to hear the words he was working so hard to say. "Say it anyway."

"If you stayed…if I were a whole man…"

She put her hand on his arm and stopped him. "But you are a man. More of a man than any I have ever known."

He turned a perplexed gaze her way. "How can you say that? I am a hideous beast. Just look at me." He fanned his wings out, spreading them wide. The impressive effect he sought was lost with her makeshift bandage dangling around one of them.

She brushed the back of her hand across his stubbled cheek, the soft bristles tickling her skin. "I don't find you hideous at all. But it's not because of what you look like on the outside. That doesn't matter to me. Right now, I only see the man on the inside, and he's one of the handsomest men I've ever met."

She watched the muscles in his throat work as he tried to swallow, the look of amazement on his face so unguarded, so innocent. "How is it that you can see me as no one else does?"

"Maybe because I'm meant to?"

Baelin stared at her for the longest time, searching her face as if memorizing every line and detail. Just when she thought he would kiss her, he pulled back, returning his gaze to the fire as he withdrew, but not before she glimpsed the longing in his eyes.

Who said chivalry was dead? It was alive and well in every fiber of his being. But he wore his blasted honor like a shield and was using it now to put a wall between them.

Don't, Baelin. Please don't do this.

He wanted her. Every instinct ingrained in women from the beginning of time stood at attention telling her so. But as long as he saw himself as a monster and unworthy, he was going to deny himself—and her. The weight of it was causing him obvious distress and frustrating the hell out of her.

She cupped his cheek, turning his head back to her with a gentle touch. She gazed deep into those warm, brown eyes of his and was lost in the longing there, drowning in a desire that matched her own.

Let me give this to you. This one thing. It's the only thing I can offer you. I know how long you've been alone, without love or kindness, and it breaks my heart. Let me give you the one thing I can. Let me make you happy, just for a little while.

She wanted to tell him this, but she couldn't. She knew the words would come out wrong. That it would sound more like pity sex than what it really was. And it was so much more, because she wanted it, too. She wanted him, dragon parts and all. And so she told him without words, pulling his head down for a kiss.

He did not resist, and yet he did not give in. He forced her to keep the kiss gentle, not allowing her access when she demanded entry past his soft lips. When she tried to scale his defenses, he pulled away, his breathing labored.

"Do you not understand? If we continue down this path, I may not be able to let you go."

She wrapped her arms around him and pulled him tight.

"Then don't."

Then don't.

Such simple words that had the power to make his warrior's body go weak.

Did she even realize what she asked of him? The tight rein he held on the baser urges of the dragon was so weak at this point, if he were to take her in his arms now, the fragile threads would snap. Then the beast within would be released, while the man he struggled to remain might be lost forever.

Yet, already the dragon was taking over. He damned the creature's acute senses. Why did he have to smell so well? He could detect the scent of her sun-kissed hair, the freshness of her clean skin after her plunge in the stream. But under all that, he scented something different. Something earthy and primal. Something he'd long forgotten the scent of.

The musk of arousal.

Her arousal.

She wanted him—as a woman wants a man—and the knowledge sent his mind reeling.

He tried to master his thoughts, to clear his mind and gather control. Only when the mist cleared did he realize she was indeed in his arms. When had that happened? Had she moved into his embrace or had he wrapped his arms around her and drawn her to him? For the life of him, he could not remember.

Heaven help him, she filled his senses, scattering his hard-won control to the four winds. He was still dressed in full mail, but even that proved not barrier enough. He could feel the warmth of her skin through the chain links and padding, heating his skin, searing his flesh with her body. He steeled himself. He could fight the cravings of the beast.

But then she looked at him from beneath her long lashes, her eyes drawing him in with a call he could not deny. Had her lips ever looked fuller? Her eyes so inviting?

Baelin closed his eyes and tried to think of other things. Bad, horrible things.

Plague. Famine. Being drawn and quartered, then boiled in oil.

But none of it could dispel the power this woman held over him.

He should leave. He should spend the night far, far away—preferably chained to a rock and surrounded by a garrison of pike toting guards. Anywhere far from the temptation of this woman before he dishonored them both.

"Baelin?"

Blessed Mary, the sound of her voice, so soft in the night. But she didn't have to speak to call him to her. Each breath she took sang a siren's song he found impossible to resist.

"Aye?"

"Why are you shaking?"

Baelin cleared his throat, trying to mask the shame at his weakness. "I do not tremble."

"Yes, you do. What's wrong?"

What's wrong?
Holding her like this was wrong. Desiring her warm, soft body beneath his was wrong. Wanting her with every beat of his foul dragon's heart was wrong.

Reluctantly, he removed his arm from around her waist. He couldn't touch her any longer without losing what was left of the frail grip he held on his control. "You have had a trying day. Perhaps you should get some sleep."

"I'm not tired."

Damn
.

"Baelin? Why won't you look at me?"

Because if I do, I will be lost.

She turned his head to face her. Her fingers tunneled through his hair, tickling his scalp and sending shivers racing across his heated skin. But she didn't stop there. She pulled his head to hers and met his lips with another excruciatingly tender kiss.

He tried to tell himself there was no sin in a chaste touching of the lips. He bargained with his conscience, granting himself this tiny bit of pleasure. He vowed he would ask for nothing more and would leave her untouched for the rest of his days.

He should have pulled away right then. Should have stopped it before it was too late. But she wouldn't let him.

To his shock, she deepened the kiss, her moist tongue probing at his lips until he had no choice but to open for her or go mad. His head swam as her tongue darted inside and began a dance of seduction with his own. His stomach clenched with longing and wanted nothing more than to lie with her, to be inside her in more ways than one.

Baelin finally found the strength to tear himself away. How could a woman so small have the power to hold him so firmly?

"Lady Jill, we must not. 'Tis wrong."

Her eyes were dark, heavy-lidded with passion. "What is?"

"I cannot dishonor you this way."

She pressed her forehead to his, mingling the sound of their heavy breathing. "Let me be the one to decide if I'm dishonored or not."

"But—"

She kissed him again, stealing his words of protest away. He almost surrendered, almost gave in to the dark urges of the beast. But somehow, he found the strength to wrench himself away again and hold her at arms length.