Shades of Truth (The Summerlynn Secrets) (39 page)

“I am only here to choose a book, not play guessing games.” I resisted the urge to pluck a random book off the shelf, knowing that would only net me a completely inappropriate book which he would then point out and we would argue until I’d forget I really should leave but he was so irritating and—.

“I know.” He stepped toward me. I noticed the tautness of his shoulders, the way he bounced on the soles of his feet.

“Then stop playing them.”

“I can’t.”

“Fine. Tell me what it is you want me to know.” Books forgotten, I put my hands on my hips and attempted to stare him down.

“You have decided to leave. This involves stepping into a slightly volatile country with no protection whatsoever. Not to mention the people searching for your father now want you.” He shook his head angrily at my obtuseness. “Do you realize you could be killed?”

I swallowed. “You are overreacting.”

“I am not. You may leave, but you will do so in the company of twenty armed men.”

“No!” Forgetting we were supposed to be having a rational discussion, I scowled.

“Or you will not set so much as a foot outside this palace.”

“You promised you wouldn’t do this!” I tamped down on the urge to hit him, stopping as my hand fisted at my side.

“I promised I wouldn’t talk you out of leaving. I said nothing about preventing you.” I wasn’t certain how words were able to escape the clench of his jaw. “I am supposed to protect you, not send you to your death!”

“Oh, stop being so melodramatic. I am not going to my death; I am going home.”

“They could be one and the same.”

“My family is not going to kill me.” At least I didn’t think Uncle Brett had been working with my father. Even so, my father wouldn’t hurt me.

“Your father might.”

I sighed. “My father’s dead.”

“You may be wrong.”

I could see arguing the point would be fruitless. “If my father is alive, he wouldn’t murder me.” I rolled my eyes so he would realize how absurd the thought was.

“You have something he wants very badly.” His gaze dropped to my neckline, checking for the pendant I wasn’t wearing. “Your father has shown not the slightest concern for your safety these past weeks.”

Stubbornly, I lifted my chin. “That changes nothing.”

Sorin thrust a hand through his blonde hair in a familiar gesture of frustration.
“So I am to pat you on the head and wish you well when I know, I know I may never see you again?”

“Sorin—“ I began, only he cut me off. “If I lost you…” His voice trailed off in a whisper. “I’ve only just found you.”

Steeling myself against the real emotion in his voice and remembering again all that lay between us, I responded, “I am not yours. I never have been.”

“That is not true and you know it.” A dangerous gleam darkened the sapphire of his eyes. Straightening to his full height, he advanced. The fire in the grate threw shards of light at him, one moment flickering against the blonde of his hair, the next chiseling the lines of his jaw.

“Stay away from me. “ I backed away, skimming my hand the length of a chair as I passed.

“Impossible.” He took another couple of steps toward me. I retreated further. If I could just reach the door...

“Sorin, please!” My voice went up an octave as I recognized I could not escape him. I wondered how much of my heart I would possess when he released me.

“Words have no effect. I will make you listen another way.” His stride was longer, and he moved so quickly, I wasn’t quite sure how I ended up on top of him on the couch he’d been reclining on when I first entered the library.

To say I was mildly attracted to the man was an understatement when his every touch scorched me to the soles of my feet. I was pressed flat against his chest, my head against his shoulder. One of my legs had fallen between his, and I was perched rather precariously atop one of his hips. My own arms were pinioned to my sides by his arms, so I could barely breathe, much less move. I was tense as a guitar string. Any pluck would send me straight over the edge.

Against my will, tears pricked my eyes. I felt as though the dam of my private emotions was coming perilously close to fracturing. I refused to cry. Not because I feared he’d be embarrassed, but because I knew he wouldn’t. His eyes would soften and his voice would take that special tone, that tone reserved just for me.

I would break.

I fisted my hands at my side, falling still. “Release me.” My voice was an unsteady waver in the taut silence of the study. I pinched the skin over his ribs. He flinched, shifting beneath me to remove my hand from that area.

Ignoring my demand, he rested his forehead against the top of my head. “Relax, sweetheart.” His arms didn’t loosen. He began adjusting his own body to more comfortably support mine.

“I can’t.” With each additional brush of his body against mine, my resolve wavered.

“You can.” Keeping an arm around my waist, the other rubbed the small of my back. My already overheated body shivered.

Sensing the beginnings of surrender in the exhalation of a sigh, his hands shifted me to his side, so my leg was no longer between his. I slid between his body and the sofa back. Before I could scramble into a sitting position, Sorin tilted his weight to the hip next to me, maneuvering so we lay face to face.

I knew my eyes were wild when they met his. “Why are you doing this?”

“So you’ll stay.” His hand brushed the hair out of my eyes, each movement so gentle it stole my breath.

“I won’t.” I pushed against his chest, trying to roll him onto his back and away from me.

“Did we not just have this conversation?” His expression was incredibly tender.

“And look where that got us.” Stubbornly, I refused to surrender.

“Yes. Look where it got us.” Deliberately, his eyes strolled the length of our bodies, lingering on the overlap of our calves and ankles. With this embrace, he disregarded all the barriers I’d worked so hard to establish.

“I wish you would stop acting as though you own me.” I halfheartedly placed a hand between his chest and mine.

“Being owned is not so bad once you realize it goes both ways.” The man wouldn’t stop touching me. His finger traced the soft skin beneath my eyes to the hollowness of my cheek all the way down to the stubborn line of my jaw.

I drew in a shaky breath. “I won’t be owned.”

“Too late,” he whispered right before he kissed the side of my mouth. Not a full kiss, more a suggestion of one. I jerked my head away. “Stop,” I said again.

Sensing my refusal, he sighed. “One day, you will stop fighting me.”

“Not tonight.”

“Not tonight.” He rubbed his thumb over my mouth. “I always look out for you, sweetheart. I cannot help myself.” He sounded annoyed.

“Then surely you must see that going to my family is in my best interests.” I played my final card.

“I am merely concerned with how you will reach them.” He pressed his lips to my forehead. “But that is an argument for another day.”

Looking into his eyes, I realized he really did not want to argue with me. All the hurt and anger swirling within me suddenly eased. If he wanted a truce, I would be happy to lay down my weapons for the night.

My tense muscles relaxed, my head falling onto his folded arm. I tucked the hand I pressed against his chest under my chin, and turned my face into his chest. His knee slipped between both of mine, and he kissed the top of my head.

He smelled wonderful. His normal almost spicy scent combined with whatever colognes princes wore, to create an intoxicating smell. I wanted nothing more than to bury my face in his chest and let the hours pass us by.

As more and more time passed, a different muscle relaxed until I was boneless against him. Time slowed along with my breathing. It was so warm alongside him that I no longer felt the chill of the library.

He waited still longer, shifting me back into his arms when he resumed lying on his back. Though I still separated him from the back of the couch, I was half curled on top of him. The lateness of the hour crept upon me and I remembered how tired I was. I yawned.

My eyes were closed when he half sat up. I would have straightened as well, if he hadn’t soothed me back into a lying position. I caught sight of a book in his hand. “Surely you do not expect me to sleep with you in my arms?” His chuckle was soft.

“You did quite well on our journey here.” The protest was half hearted at best. I was nearly asleep.

“Exhaustion being the only match for your beauty.” He rubbed my back. “I am fully rested now.”

“Mmmm.” I buried my face deeper into the hollow between his shoulder and neck. Sensing that was all he’d get out of me this evening, he opened his book. “I will wake you before dawn. Go to sleep. You are safe with me.”

“I don’t altogether believe that.” But I yawned again and replaced my head on his chest. Even without his full attention—he resumed reading the book he’d had when I first entered the library—the man was a potent companion.

His breathing synced with mine, and every now and then, the hand resting on my hip reflexively stroked a small circle against my skin. He didn’t attempt to roll me beneath him, or kiss me and I’ll admit to being somewhat disappointed, but in light of my looming departure, it was for the best.

Unfortunately, Sorin fell asleep, meaning it was the maid coming to refresh the fire in the grate who woke me. I would like to say I came awake gracefully, but I sat rather abruptly up, nearly knocking Sorin backwards off the narrow couch. Thankfully, he was able to regain his balance by grabbing me.

The maid scurried out, saving me the embarrassment of attempting to slip past her and out the door.

I’d seen him newly awakened before, so I wasn’t struck dumb by the attractive way his hair fell forward, or the intriguing stubble now lining each angle of his handsome face, not to mention the added redness in his cheeks or the unfocused blue of his eyes. I allowed myself a quick glance before I poked him in the chest.

“It’s morning.”

“Your point?” Sorin closed his eyes again.

I removed his book from where it wedged between us. When he’d fallen asleep, he had turned onto his side, pinning me against the back of the couch. “I must go.”

“What is it with you and leaving?” He wanted to know, folding his arms tighter around me and burrowing closer.

“I need to return to my room.” I propped myself up on an elbow.

“Why? We’ve already been seen.” He sounded supremely unconcerned.

“No thanks to you.” I thumped him with the book. He gave me a wounded look.

“There’s no need for violence. If you want to leave, ask nicely.”

“Please let me go.”

“Kiss me and I’ll release you.”

“And if I refuse?”

“I hope you’re comfortable because you’ll be here for the foreseeable future.” His eyes closed, no doubt because he thought I would belabor the point before giving in and kissing him. I probably should argue, for appearance’s sake, but really, I wanted to kiss him. I always wanted to kiss him.

During the night, I’d managed to scrunch myself downward, my face even with the middle of his chest. To get to where his head rested on top of the couch arm, I would have to drag myself upwards. Our feet still tangled together, but if I carefully moved my left foot down…

“What are you doing?” The hands at my waist tightened as I inched upward.

“Kissing you.” That got his attention. His eyes widened, a rather dim blue, as he was nearly half asleep. Another blink and they brightened to sapphire as awareness returned.

He measured the distance between our mouths and arched an eyebrow. “This isn’t kissing.”

“I know.” A trace of annoyance crept into my voice.

“Do you need a hint?”

“I know how to kiss.”

“Ah, but you’ve rarely initiated one.” His gaze fastened on my mouth.

Another moment passed while I finally evened our faces. His eyes were bright blue, their hungry look a bit disconcerting. “I can’t kiss you when you’re looking at me like that.”

“Like what?” Puzzlement crowded the words.

“As if you are going to leap upon me at any moment and have your wicked way with me.”

“Oh, like that. You need to be less you if you expect me to stop wanting you.” Again, his eyes focused on my mouth. “Now kiss me.”

“I will kiss you when I want to, and not a second before,” I said airily, attempting to ignore the way my heart pounded. There was something so exhilarating about arguing with him.

“Kiss me now, before I decide I don’t want to be kissed at all.” Sorin rolled his eyes at the absurdity of that statement.

“Why are you being so difficult?” I rubbed beneath his collarbone.

“Unlike you, I have things to do this morning, and languishing on this sofa is not one of them.”

“So this is what languishing looks like.” It was my turn to roll my eyes. Any inclination to kiss him was fast fading with every word out of his beautiful mouth.

“The languishing I know involves fewer clothes.” His finger dipped to the lapel of my wrapper.