The Dark Knight (41 page)

He has lied to you before and you believed him. These are more lies
.

And there was the sour voice of reason, the voice that demanded to be heard after being silenced for so long. Actually, she had heard it loud and clear from the moment he declared himself but had chosen to ignore the warnings. No matter what happened when they reached London, did she want to live out her life without knowing what it would be like to be loved by this man? Or, at least, knowing a very believable pretense of love?

Last night she had given herself to him without hesitation and with little inhibition. She was not so naïve as to think that was all he wanted from her, and yet it was the thought of her comfort and safety that made him deny them both. Everything he told her was so sincere that it was almost impossible
not
to believe him. And yet, she knew firsthand that he was an accomplished liar. Doubtless his life often depended upon his ability to make others believe his lies.

If she were being sensible, which seemed impossible at the moment, she would not allow herself to truly hope until they were on a ship bound for Italy. Until then she could live for the moment, just as he had once suggested. He was all she had, and he was all she wanted. As much as she had tried to deny what was happening, it was obvious now that her heart belonged to him. It was his to break.

She was still staring up at the rafters when she realized there actually were windows in the barn, narrow slits cut into the walls that allowed in enough light to know it would be dawn soon. They would be on the road again within an hour, perhaps two at the most. That meant they would soon leave their cozy lair for another day of hard riding. She almost groaned at the thought of getting back on her horse. Her makeshift bed felt like heaven in comparison.

For the moment her life and the morning itself remained locked in misty grays, still cloaked in the lingering night. The daytime creatures had yet to rise while the nighttime predators had found their burrows and roosts to hide away from the coming sun. She could hear distant whickers of their horses from beyond the barn doors, but the walls that surrounded them made her feel completely isolated from the others. This was the quietest and most peaceful time of day.

She snuggled closer to Dante’s warmth and closed her eyes again, but sleep eluded her. There was no ignoring the fact that today everything would change. Today they would reach London and their journey would end. There was unease over the uncertainties ahead, but no longer dread. Whether it was truth or illusion, Dante made her feel safe. He would show her all of the wonders of London, and then he would take her far across the sea where she would no longer be in danger from anyone. He just had to convince the king that she would never again be a threat to him.

She released a small sigh.

“Are you pretending you are still asleep?” he murmured in her ear.

“I
am
still asleep,” she lied. The fact that he was awake didn’t surprise her. He was a light sleeper and always seemed to awaken when she did.

“I could be persuaded to rub your back,” he said. “A kiss would seem a small payment.”

“Let me sleep a little longer,” she murmured, not trusting herself anywhere near his lips. Last night her dreams had been filled with hazy images of kissing him, of touching him, of his hands upon her body. There would be no more of that until they reached London. Why start something they would not finish?

As if he could read her thoughts, he shifted closer to her, adjusting the way she fit against him, back to front, holding her hips as he pressed his own against hers in a sensual movement. He made a low sound in the back of his throat. Her eyes widened. She could feel the stiff proof of his erection against her hips and her loins tightened in response.

“Do not worry,” he said, mistaking her reaction. His warm breath fanned across her neck and she felt goose bumps raise along her arms. “I will not ravish you. ’Tis normal for a man’s body to be aroused in the morning, especially when he awakens to find such a desirable woman in his arms.”

“And if I wanted to be ravished?” she wondered aloud.

“London,” he murmured. She felt his lips travel along the column of her neck, not really kissing her, but almost tasting her, breathing her in. His mouth opened and she felt his teeth nip painlessly at her neck, then his tongue laved the nonexistent damage he’d done. She shifted her weight to hide the way her body responded with a small shudder. “W-will we reach London today?”

“Aye, by midday,” he replied, his voice just as quiet as hers. His hand skimmed a slow path along her side from her waist to her knee, and then back again. “We will have every comfort imaginable at our fingertips. My
thoughts have been lewdly dwelling on one in particular. Would you like to share a bath with me?”

She glanced over her shoulder, certain he was teasing, but reassured by his grin all the same. “Are you so bold with all of the ladies you know?”

“You are the only lady I know, aside from my sister. So, as far as my lewd suggestions to ladies are concerned, you are the sole recipient.” He rubbed his thumb across her lower lip and his touch sent a familiar shiver of sensual awareness coursing through her.

She bit her lip as his thumb moved across her face to stroke her cheek. “Surely you know some of the ladies at court.”

“Some are acquaintances,” he admitted, sounding distracted. His gaze was still focused on her mouth. “You are the only woman I would speak with about anything … personal. Anything of importance. You and my sister are the only two women who know my true identity, and only a handful of men can make the same claim. I have already shared more of myself with you than I have with any other woman.”

She turned onto her back so she could better study his face without craning her neck, trying to decide if he was telling her the truth. It was those sorts of odd comments that kept her off balance and made it nearly impossible to doubt him. He held her gaze for a long moment, and then he lowered his head to kiss her. She unconsciously lifted her chin and closed her eyes, but she felt his lips touch her temple rather than her lips.

“You must ask me to kiss you,” he reminded her. He dipped his head again to nuzzle her neck, sending fresh shivers down her spine. “My lips will not touch yours until I hear the words.”

“Are you not worried that I will make you forget
yourself?” she asked. “Last night you all but insisted that I
stop
kissing you.”

“Last night I was more susceptible,” he said. “Today my resolve is stronger. I fully intend to finish what we started, but not this morn. When I take you to my bed in London it will not be for a hurried coupling.” His gaze moved lower and then slowly returned to her face. “I intend to linger over you for hours. Perhaps days.”

Now it was her turn to feel uncertain over the sensual look in his eyes. He was very good at seducing her, good at kissing and caressing her. He had said she was also a good kisser, but this was all new to her. She had little doubt that he had plenty of practice, likely with some of his beautiful “acquaintances” at court. “What if I do not please you?”

“Impossible.”

His immediate answer reassured her that
he
had no doubts. She suddenly had plenty. She worried at her lower lip with her teeth.

The expression in Dante’s eyes was serious. “Are you certain this is what you want? That
I
am what you want?”

“Have I not said as much?” Her brows drew together. “Am I not willingly in your bed?”

He shook his head. “What I want to know is if you will come to my bed knowing it will go against your family’s wishes, knowing I can never offer you the type of life that you were destined for in England. Will you give up your dreams of marriage to an Englishman to give yourself to me?”

“I am yours already,” she answered simply.

She blinked at the speed with which he shifted her to lie beneath him, his gaze never leaving hers. He seemed to be waiting to hear what she would say next, somehow daring her to say or do … She was not sure what
that look dared her to do or say. And then it finally dawned on her.

“Kiss me.”

She had not intended her words to sound like an order, but they did and he obeyed. In one skillful motion he lowered his head and kissed her. This time his mouth was hard and demanding, opening over hers the same way he had just kissed and tasted the sensitive skin on her neck, but driven now with an urgency that was altogether new. Her eyes widened and then fluttered shut as she gave herself over to her feelings, the melting, the falling away of everything except the feel of his mouth over hers, the weight of his body, the restless longing that began to fill her body.

She sighed against his mouth and surrendered to her destiny. Something about this man had called to her soul from the moment she first laid eyes upon him, and now, at last, she was free to answer, to take what he offered and give back as much as she took. The fabric of his shirt felt smooth and warm beneath her hands, but she pulled handfuls of the fabric upward until she could reach beneath the shirt to touch his bare back. His skin felt hot and his muscles moved in constant waves.

The kiss became almost a battle, a contest to see who would dominate. In the end she lost when he dragged his mouth away from hers to press more violent kisses along the column of her neck, biting, sucking, and then once again tracing the damage with his tongue. This time he would leave marks, she was sure of it. They would be the same type of bruises she had noticed on some of the serving wenches’ throats in the past. Those women had blushed over the bruises and dismissed them as love bites. At the time she had thought the women foolish. Now she understood. There was something primitive and erotic about being marked by a man, for
her, being marked by this man in particular. She tilted her head back to bare more of her neck and heard herself moan.

“Shhh.” His fingers covered her mouth, his voice little more than a whisper near her ear. “I will not share any part of you with another, not even the sounds of your pleasure.”

Before she could think what he meant, his lips replaced his fingers and she was lost again in the heat of passion. Her hands found their way to his chest, learning and memorizing the contours beneath his shirt, pushing against him one moment, clinging to him the next. His hands were just as busy, touching and caressing her in ways that both soothed and excited her. Her back arched as she pressed herself into him and she heard his sound of pleasure.

It gave her a heady feeling to know she could affect him so easily and she rose up again to test her power. He pressed her back down and then her hips answered the movement until their bodies established a rhythm that felt as natural as breathing. She had always thought of herself as somewhat modest, but now her gown felt like a barrier, as did his clothing. She began to tug on his shirt, driven by some unknown demon to feel his bare skin next to hers.

“Gesù,”
he whispered. “Tell me to stop.”

Oh, that would never happen. Before she could say anything he dragged his mouth back to her lips for another searing kiss. The kiss ended abruptly when he rolled onto his back. She tried to follow him, but he laid his arm across her chest and pressed her shoulders to the ground, forcing her to lie still next to him. For a long time all she could hear was the labored sound of their breathing.

Gradually she became aware of her surroundings.
Hints of red and gold colored the sky through the windows. Outside the horses sounded restless, doubtless in anticipation of the ration of oats they would soon receive. The woodland birds had arisen as well and were becoming noisier by the moment as they set off from their nests for the day. And then she heard someone cough.

Was it Oliver or Armand or Rami? The sound traveled clearly. Her eyes widened and her face began to feel hot with a blush. How much had the others heard of their trysts?

“We cannot do that again until we reach London,” he said at last. His arm still lay across her chest and she felt his fingertips begin to trace a random pattern on her arm that stopped in midstroke. A moment later, he had his hands clasped behind his head as he stared up at the rafters. “Give me a few moments to calm down.”

“All right,” she said, still unsteady herself. She stared up at the rafters as well and listened as her breathing and heartbeat began to slow down. “Will you have many duties to attend to when we arrive in London?”

“A few,” he said. “Why do you ask?”

She tried to keep her voice casual. “I am just wondering how much time we will have to spend … alone together.” That sounded needy. She frowned at a cobweb that was still barely visible in the rapidly lightening barn. Would he think she was too clingy? Would he tire of—

He suddenly rolled onto his side and propped himself up on one arm, then leaned down to press a gentle kiss to her forehead. “Avalene, for you, I have all the time in the world.”

There were some sights that words could not adequately describe. None of the stories Dante told her had prepared her for the sight of the city itself.