His Dark Desires (29 page)

He stood, fiercely in the center of the cemetery as if he alone could keep the devil at bay from all those buried here. Courage, noble bearing and—heaven help her—a forbidden sensual appeal filled every contour of his bronze likeness. She couldn’t help but wonder how much more so had the man been in real life?

“Had I lived during your time, I surely would have loved you even if only from afar.”

She slid her hand down to press against the smooth curve of his breast, where she imagined his heart would have beaten passionate and true. She supposed she wove stories about him because deep inside she wished he’d come to life and steal her away from loneliness and drudgery.

He stood naked, save for his loin cloth and weapons, and she knew him well. Her hands had touched every part of him many times in her quest to draw him perfectly upon the page.

No one knew who he was, this warrior who guarded the dead. But he’d inspired the sculptor who fashioned him so perfectly and drove Christine’s hand to recreate him on the pages of her sketch pad. He was unlike any man she’d ever seen, and especially unlike the odiously obese Lord Stafford. Sometimes Stafford’s gaze was so bold Christine seriously wondered if she would have to leave Castleborough and her beloved moors for the stench and grime of London’s streets — the one place she could assuredly disappear from the man. Any place smaller, she would be noticed for the vibrant red of her hair marked her like a scarlet letter.

Thunder rippled through the air and an icy gust blew up her skirt, giving her a sharp reminder that she should hurry.

“A kiss to hold you until I return again, my warrior.” She lifted her lips to the breeze and waited a moment, imagining what she would feel. Then she patted his thick thigh and stepped back with a wink, before turning to leave. The path would take her past the church, the village, and on to the Stafford’s estates. At one time there had been a church adjoining the graveyard, but it had burned down and many trapped inside had died. Instead of rebuilding on the same spot, the villagers had built the large memorial to honor the dead and moved the church closer to the town.

Aerik the Eternal waited in the shadows, watching the red-haired beauty as he had too many times to count. Frustration and longing pulsed with every beat of his heart. He knew her well. Ten years ago his uncle had given him the task of watching over her, of protecting her. A responsibility that had become an exercise in torture for him.

Everything about her had become ingrained in him. The scent of her blood, the fragrance of her skin, the softly, sensual lilt of her voice. From the darkness of the memorial-crypt in which he stood, he’d often watched her with his bronze-likeness across the graveyard. At first it had been amusing to listen to her talk to his statue as she drew his likeness. But as the years passed and she matured from a young girl to a young woman, the way she spoke…the way she touched the statue made him feel as if she were touching him. And like the love-starved fool he’d become, he’d often stolen into her room during the dark of the night just to see her sleep, breathe of her essence, and imagine touching her as she touched him.

Some guardian he was turning out to be. He knew he’d reached the point that he’d have to go to his uncle and have another guardian assigned to her. Honor demanded that he do so. But he couldn’t stand the thought of another watching over her. Of another falling in love with her. Of another who’d have no conscience and would take virgin flesh.

He would never take her innocence without claiming her for his own with a blood oath. But to do that would condemn her to a life spent only within the darkness of the night. No sunrises, no sunsets, no heated kisses of nature’s light, only a pale moon and the distant stars to illuminate her world night after cold night. But even more importantly, his race was under siege. The Slayers he battled grew in number every year and the prime vampires roving free upon the earth were few. Since the reign of terror, most, like his uncle, now lived in asylums deep within the earth, giving up freedom for safety and having one child, if any.

Aerik feared the vampire race would soon face extinction, despite him leading the Blood Defenders in the war against the slayers.

So even though she bore the tiny birthmark of a vampire’s mate, he refused to bring her into the cursed world in which he lived. At least that had been his resolve over the years. But with each passing season that resolve grew harder to keep, for his body throbbed harder to know hers from the tip of his fangs to the depths of his immortal soul.

The scrolled iron doors of the crypt and the confines of his hooded cloak kept him from seeing as much of her as he wanted, but he was close enough to breathe in her soft scent of seductive flowers and sweet blood. It was a torture he couldn’t resist. Fisting his hands, he sank his fangs into the flesh of his mouth as desire rushed through him in a hot, muscle-hardening wave of desperation. As much as he tried, he’d been unable to assuage his need with another woman, mortal or immortal.

He should be known as
Aerik the Foolish
for living in this tormenting limbo. Perhaps if he kissed her just once, he’d learn she wasn't as special as he imagined. He could do it tonight. Steal into her room, put her into a trance and kiss her. No harm would be done to her. She’d only awaken the next morning with the pleasant sensation of having dreamed of something pleasurable.

It wasn’t as if she hadn’t invited him to do so.

What harm could one kiss bring?

Excerpt for WILD IRISH by Jennifer Saints (aka Jennifer St. Giles)

Weldon Series Book One

"Alexandria Jordan!  What is the meaning of this, dear?"  Katherine Jordan's reign in Savannah's society had never had the least blemish of scandal attached to it.  This was a scandal.

"Roger is a philandering jerk.  The wedding is off." Alexi fisted her hands, forcing calmness.  Ladies didn't scream.

Katherine Jordan didn't even blink with surprise as she handed Alexi an old-fashioned laced handkerchief.  Lowering her voice, Katherine patted Alexi’s shoulder.  "Men
do
that, dear.  Your grandfather wandered like a country road.  Now go back to your tent and I'll fix this disaster.  You don't allow emotions to dictate the wellbeing of your family, your position in society, or your wealth.  My goodness, I thought I'd taught you better.  Merging the Jordan shipping empire with the Holstead's banking assets is insurance that both families need during these troubling economic times.  Just make sure you get diamonds for his indiscretions and everything will work out all right."

Alexi stared, shocked.  “Diamonds for indiscretions!”

“Yes, dear.  There isn’t a woman in Savannah who doesn’t envy my collection.”

Alexi’s mind reeled.  Her grandmother had an extensive diamond collection.  What Alexi had thought beautiful suddenly became nauseating.  “I'll never settle for that in life.”

"Dear, there are things that are more important than your feelings, like your heritage and financial well-being.  I’ll explain to the guests that you are ill, and a private ceremony will take place at a later time.  We’ll fix this problem and the scandal will soon die out.”

“Scandal!  Money!  Heritage!  That’s all you care about?” Alexi had never realized how irrational her grandmother was when it came to her position in Savannah’s society.  Katherine Jordan was ready to sacrifice anything for it.

“By knowing what’s important, I’ve kept the Jordan wealth intact and our name without blemish.”

Alexi shook her head, seeing her life in a whole new light.  Tears flooded her eyes.  “I’m not willing to pay that price.”

 “There she is!”

She looked to see a blur of reporters zooming her way and turned in the opposite direction, hoping to escape in the maze of tents.  Word of the wedding's cancellation was out, and she had no interest in facing reporters now.

"Alexandria, you can’t do this!" her grandmother cried.

It was the first time in her life that Alexi heard her grandmother yell.  Apparently, despite what she’d been told all her life, ladies did scream after all.  That was good to know.  Stiffening her shoulders, she marched through the park, a frenzy of flashbulbs and questions trailing behind her.  She wanted to run, but she had too much training and pride to let them see her hurt.  Up ahead a band was busily unloading equipment to play in one of the reception tents for her wedding.

Her grandmother's insensitivity hurt as badly as Roger's betrayal.  For the first time in her life, she didn’t want to be Alexandria Jordan.  She didn’t want to have a place in society.  And more than anything else, she didn’t want to be the kind of person that ended up with a man like Roger.

Diamonds for indiscretions.  Was that the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow she’d been chasing all of her life?  She looked up toward heaven and it started to rain.

* * *

Stripping off and tossing his shirt aside because he felt a spider crawling on him, Jesse Weldon brushed off his back and then moved passed the speakers he'd delivered to his brother Jackson when he heard a loud commotion in the park.  Jackson's band would be playing in one of the entertainment tents for the Jordan-Holstead wedding.  The day had started out sunny, but intermittent rain showers were quickly turning it into a downer.  Stepping out into the rain to see what the ruckus was about, he had to shake his head and blink twice.

Damn.  What was the bride doing marching through the rain and the grass in her wedding dress instead of walking down the aisle like she was supposed to be?

Hell.  He knew the second his brother Jackson had asked him to bring the forgotten speakers that it would be a mistake.  Ever since he'd learned Alexi was getting married, he’d told himself that after today he could wipe her out of his mind.  Once she married, he could forget her, her made-for-kissing mouth, and move back home without being tempted to see her, without having to revisit the wrenching past.

Apparently, she’d decided not to marry after all.  He ducked out of sight, despising the relief stealing through him.

 Fisting his hands, he forced his erupting emotions back into the neat box he’d built around them over the past twelve years.  He didn’t care what her problem was.  This time, he wasn’t going to rush to the rescue.  This time, Savannah’s reigning royal princess, the pampered darling of one of Georgia’s oldest moneyed families, could save herself.

The Weldons had always been considered dirt beneath people like the Jordan’s feet. He’d learned the hard way that by fair means or foul, people like the Jordans would keep it that way.

Half hidden by hanging gray tendrils of Spanish moss burdening a sprawling oak tree, he watched Lexi’s stiff walk, thinking it poetically ironic that she was dressed to the nines just like she'd been dressed the last time she went running.

Reporters, like hounds after a fox, followed her as she marched his way.  Damn, he tried to look away, but couldn’t keep his gaze from drinking in the visage of beauty bearing down on him.  The seventeen-year old girl had become a woman worth more than a passing glance.  Hell, even a two hour movie of her wouldn’t be enough and he couldn’t put his finger as to the reason why.  She wasn't Cosmopolitan material.  Alexi was slender, almost frail.  No Pamela Anderson curves were hidden beneath her satin dress.  Was it her regal bearing?  The porcelain quality of her skin?  Or her sexy mouth that still played in his dreams.  His blood rushed and his chest tightened, making him remember all too well his want of her and her betrayal of him. 
You’re a fool, Weldon
.

Eight years in the army, mostly in Special Forces, and building a highly specialized security company hadn’t left much time for leisure.  He could count on three fingers the number of times he’d been back to Savannah, and this was the first he'd seen of her since the night he'd been railroaded by her family.

He should have stayed away, he thought, stepping deeper into the shadows as she drew nearer.  He saw she was wearing the damn pearls.  Of course she would, it was her day to wear the cursed things.  He’d never forget what she and those pearls had cost him.  Reporters, like sharks in a feeding frenzy, snapped pictures and yelled questions.  Alexi ignored them all.  He had to admire that, he thought, his jaw clenching in protest.

Where she was going?

He knew what it was like to be shark bait and Alexi was sailing through the water with her head held high, but even through the light rain he could see she was bleeding inside as she drew abreast of him.  Tears streamed down her face and her full lips trembled.  She stumbled and reached for something to break her fall, but only grasped air.

Shit.  He rushed forward and caught her arm before she hit the ground, his instinct towards her stronger than his will.

"Oh!" She turned and surprise washed over her face.  She breathed his name, as if he were an answer to a prayer. “Jesse.”

Hell, she still looked too damn innocent and vulnerable for his good.  Twelve years and she still had the power to get under his skin even though he knew how deadly she could be.  Maybe it was time to turn the tables, collect on what he missed and wipe her from his mind.  She couldn’t be as good as he remembered her being.

Alexi blinked as heat invaded the chill that had stolen through her since she’d seen the pictures of Roger.  She tingled as she looked at the rugged face and chiseled chest of the man who'd just saved her from falling.  Half a day’s dark stubble covered his rough jaw; and his deep sea-blue eyes, crinkled at the corners from the sun, warily assessed her then stared at her mouth.  Tension oozed from him.  She had no trouble connecting the man to the wild devil who'd led her astray years ago then broke her heart.

Small towns had their good side and bad side of the tracks, and the wild Weldon boys had been known a time or two to paint their side a bit blacker.  Jesse’s reputation had been the worst.  She hadn’t believed that until he'd used her to steal from her family.  Over the years, she’d heard from Jesse's mother Emma, who worked at the hospital, about Jesse’s stellar military career and security business in Washington D.C.  Knowing he’d turned his life around made her glad, but didn’t ease the hurt he’d left behind.