The Saint (33 page)

Suddenly, she had an uneasy feeling about this. His warnings about the mountains came back to her. And belatedly, she remembered her promise not to go anywhere alone. Perhaps this hadn’t been the most well-thought-through idea …

Crack
.

Her pulse shot through her throat at the soft sound from near the entrance. “M-Magnus?”

Why wasn’t he calling her name?

If he was trying to scare her it was working. Quelling the urge to retreat into the cave, she took a few tentative steps forward. “This isn’t funny.” She shouted a little louder, “Magnus!”

Her heart stopped. Fear washed over her in an icy rush. Someone was there. Right by the entrance. She could feel the heaviness in the air. “Ma …” Her voice strangled in her throat.

But then the air shifted and the sensation was gone. It must have been her imagination.

“Helen!”

Relief crashed over her; Magnus was close.

“I’m here!” she shouted, slipping out from behind the rocks.

He was about ten feet away, but the moment he saw her, he seemed to close the distance between them in one stride. He took her by the shoulders, gave her one long look as if checking to make sure she was in one piece, and then hugged her so tightly against his chest she could barely breathe. “Thank God,” he murmured against her head.

Pressed up so snugly against the hard wall of his chest,
she could feel the frantic pounding of his heart begin to slow. He was usually so calm and steady, it took her a moment to realize what it was. She nuzzled her cheek against the soft, fuzzy wool of the plaid he wore around his shoulders, letting the warmth of his body ease the chill from her bones.

Just as suddenly as he’d taken her in his arms, however, he held her away from him, grasping her by the shoulders. “Damn it, Helen, what the hell were you thinking?”

The fierceness of his expression took her aback. She blinked up at him uncertainly. “I saw the gap behind the rocks and thought it would be fun to have you try to find me, like we used—”

He shook her—actually
shook
her. And if eyes could flash, his were a veritable lightning storm. “Damn it, this is not a game. I warned you it could be dangerous.”

Perhaps it hadn’t been her best idea, but neither did she think it warranted this kind of reaction. Conveniently forgetting how scared she’d been, she bristled defensively. “I don’t see the danger in hiding a few feet away from the road—” She stopped when his face started to darken. Something about this wasn’t right. His reaction was too extreme. Helen wasn’t the most perceptive person, but even she could see he was hiding something. “What’s the matter? What are you not telling me? I’ve never seen you so jittery.”

His mouth clamped shut, and he released her.

But she didn’t want him to let her go. She stepped toward him and put her hand on his chest. She could see the tension along the hard line of his jaw, darkened by two days of very attractive stubble. The shadow of his beard only enhanced the rugged masculinity.

She knew him so well, sometimes she forgot how handsome he was. But the boyish good looks of his youth had aged seamlessly into the rough and rugged handsomeness of manhood.

Awareness sharpened the air between them. But he stood perfectly still—unrelenting. She loved him so much, and wanted him so badly. Why did he have to be so stubborn?

“We used to do this all the time and you never seemed to mind.”

His jaw tightened. “It’s not the same, Helen. It can never be the same. Stop pretending that it can.”

His cool rejection stung. She’d thought …

She’d thought the past few weeks had meant something. She’d thought he’d begun to forgive her. But he was the one still living in the past.

She pushed away from him, having reached her breaking point. For weeks she’d been trying to prove her love, prove that she’d changed, but he wasn’t going to let her.

“I’m not the one who is stubbornly holding to the past. Do you intend to punish me forever for the mistakes I made in my youth? I’m sorry for what happened. I’m sorry I didn’t take the five minutes you gave me to decide the rest of my life, cut myself off from my family forever, abandon my home, and run away with you by accepting your offer of marriage. But I’m tired of taking the blame for everything. It wasn’t all my fault. Had you given me a chance to think …” She looked up into his shocked face accusingly. “Had you given me any indication that you felt something for me beyond fondness, five minutes might have been enough.”

“What are you talking about? You knew how I felt.”

“Did I? How could I when you never said anything? You never told me you loved me. Was I to guess your feelings?”

He looked utterly thunderstruck. “How could you not have known? I
kissed
you.”

She made a sharp sound. “You touched your lips to mine and then pulled back so quickly I feared I had the plague.”

Her sarcasm pricked his temper. He stiffened. “I was showing you honor and respect.”

“I didn’t want honor and respect, I wanted passion. I
was a young girl dreaming of romance, not a convent. I wanted to think you loved me. But when you didn’t come for me, didn’t give me another chance, I feared I was wrong. I waited for you, Magnus. Every night I looked out my window, peering into the shadows, and wondered if you were there. For months I made up excuses to walk in the forest.” Her heart squeezed, and tears burned behind her eyes. “But you never came. Your pride was stronger than any feelings you had for me.”

Magnus was reeling from her accusations. God, was it possible she hadn’t known how he felt? He thought back on it, looking at what had happened through her eyes, and realized that it wasn’t only possible, it was likely. He’d never said he loved her. Never even told her how much he cared about her. He’d assumed that his actions would be enough. But even these she’d misinterpreted. Not feel passion for her? She had no bloody idea.

He dragged his fingers through his hair. Christ, what a mess! “I’m sorry, I thought you knew how I felt. You weren’t the only one who was young.” He’d hated that her brother—his enemy—had witnessed her refusal. “My pride stopped me from coming back. By the time I realized my mistake it was too late. You were betrothed to my friend—and then you married him.”

“You could have stopped me. But you lied to me. You were too stubborn to admit you still cared for me.”

His mouth tightened, unable to deny the bitterness that still rose inside him. “I never thought you’d go through with it.”

“I was hurt, Magnus—confused. If I wasn’t certain of your feelings before, should I have been certain of them three years later? I tried, but you told me you no longer cared for me. I only knew the truth at the wedding feast when I saw your face. I knew then I’d made a mistake. William realized it, too—”

She started to say something but he cut her off. Gordon was the last thing he wanted to talk about with her. Even the mention of his name served as a brutal reminder. The hopelessness of the situation bored down on him. “It doesn’t matter. We both made mistakes. But I’m not trying to punish you. I don’t blame you for what happened, and haven’t for a long time.”

“Then why are you still doing this? I know you care about me.”

He didn’t bother to deny it. But love wasn’t always enough. “Have you forgotten about your family?”

“Of course not. I told you that I will not let them stand in the way again.” She came closer. “I’ll prove it to you. Just give me the chance.”

Did she know what kind of temptation she presented?
Prove it to you
. God, she was killing him. He wanted her with every fiber of his being. Wanted to take those sinfully red lips under his and show her all the passion he’d kept in check for far too long.

But she was offering him the one thing he didn’t deserve: happiness.

He turned away. “There are things you don’t know.”

She drew closer, putting her small hand on his chest again. His body shook at the contact. “Then tell me.”

“I can’t.” The Guard. Gordon. He could speak of neither.

Her mouth tightened. “It has something to do with William, doesn’t it? You think your feelings for me are a betrayal. But I never belonged to William. I barely knew him. You are choosing the memory of your friend—a ghost—over the flesh-and-blood woman who loves you.”

To prove her point, she slid her arms around his neck, lifted on her tiptoes, and pressed her soft body against his.

Jesus
. His body jerked at the contact. He felt as if he were jumping out of his own damned skin.

Instinctively, his arm circled around her waist, holding
her to him. Her soft, feminine curves fit in all the right places.

“You are the most stubborn man I know. But you know something, I can be stubborn, too. I want you, Magnus, and I intend to fight for you.”

Their eyes met in the semidarkness. It was a mistake. He felt the pull. The irresistible temptation. His head lowered. Just one kiss. One little taste. Was that too much to ask?

He let his lips fall on hers for only a moment. But even the fleeting contact was enough to harken danger. His senses exploded. Her lips were so soft and sweet. She tasted of passion and desire held in check for too long. His body hammered, ached to deepen the kiss. But he knew that if he didn’t pull back soon, he wouldn’t be able to.

Still, he couldn’t force himself to break the contact, needing to absorb just a little more of her sweetness …

Suddenly, he felt her tiny fist pound on his chest. She tore her mouth away with a cry. “Stop! Damn you, stop!”

What in Hades? Magnus gazed down into fierce blue eyes glistening with unshed tears. “What’s wrong? I thought you wanted me to kiss you.”

“I do, damn you. But did you hear nothing I said? Why are you holding back? I want you to kiss me like you started to in the forest. I want you to kiss me like you did the woman at the wedding. I want you to touch me. Talk to me. Tell me everything you want to do to me like you did when you thought I was Joanna. I want you to stop treating me like a—”

“Virgin?”

Magnus snapped. He captured her fist from his chest and pinned it behind her back, dragging her against him. He knew it was wrong to begrudge his dead friend what was rightfully his, but he did.
She should have been mine
. There, he’d put it to words. Damn his soul to hell for it.

Her eyes widened. “Nun, that’s what I was going to say.” Nun. Virgin. What difference did it make? “Just once,” she
pleaded. “Just once can’t you kiss me—touch me—like you did them? Or do you not feel the same for me?”

Her gaze met his, challenging, but also uncertain. It was the uncertainty that did him in.

Damn her. He was past caring. All the desire, all the lust he’d held in check came bursting forward in a hot rush. He was a man, not a saint. If she wanted raw and base, he was going to give it to her. Even if he had to go to hell afterward.

He slid his hand down to cup her bottom, hauling her against him.

She gasped at the forcefulness of the contact.

“Do you feel my passion for you, Helen? It’s nothing like I felt for them. God, do you have any idea how badly I want you?” Her eyes widened, but he didn’t care. She’d put this game in motion; she’d see it through to the end. He took her hand and guided it to him, wrapping her fingers around his thickness. Despite his anger, he groaned at the sensation, pulsing harder. “One little pump in that dainty little hand of yours and I would explode. But as fine as that sounds, that’s not what I really want.”

He pushed her back against the rocks that had hidden her a few moments ago, pinning her with his weight.

He didn’t kiss her. Not yet. Instead, his lips and tongue found the velvety-soft skin of her neck and throat. He devoured—ravished, the hard flutter of her heartbeat urging him on.

Her breath started to hitch as his hand moved over her body, claiming every inch of her. He cupped her breast, his mouth right by her ear. “You know what I really want?”

He took her nipple between his fingertips, twisting it gently to a tight bud.

She shook her head, her breath coming fast.

He was hot and aroused, and past the point of restraint. There was no rein on his passion now. Nothing to hold him back.

His mouth dipped lower, to the edge of her bodice. He pushed the fabric aside just enough to let his tongue flick out and lick the hard bead of her nipple.

She startled, but her gasp of surprise turned to a moan of pleasure when he took her between this teeth and sucked. She was arching and pressing against him so hard he almost forgot his question. Her breasts were incredible. Plump and soft, with just the right amount of weight. Her nipples were tight and berry pink. He swirled his tongue around the delectable little tip one more time before releasing her.

“I want to come inside you. I want to feel that tight little glove between your legs gripping me. I want you wet and hot, and quivering. I want you to scream my name as I’m deep inside you.”

She seemed to be holding her breath as she waited for what he would do next. Maybe she even anticipated it. He slid his hand down her hip, down her leg, and under the edge of her gown. He groaned when his hand met the soft bare skin of her leg.

Her lips parted. Her eyes lost focus. Her breath hitched. Desire. She was flush with it. He wanted to draw it out. Tease her a little more. Have her begging for him to touch her. But he couldn’t wait. Blood pounded through his veins, the soft scent of her feminine need an irresistible aphrodisiac.

She wanted talking? He’d talk until she begged for him to stop.

“Are you wet for me, Helen?” he drawled huskily.

The blush that rose to her cheeks made him chuckle.

“I take it that’s a yes?”

She nodded.

His hand skimmed the delicate skin of her inner thigh, achingly close to that dampness. “Tell me what you want.”

He kissed her throat again, dragging a trail of kisses up
to the corner of her mouth. He could feel her restlessness, feel her body shaking with need for his touch.

“Touch me,” she breathed. “I want you to touch me.”

He gave her what she wanted, sweeping his finger over the silky flesh. A deep shudder ran through him at the contact. She was so warm and wet, he couldn’t wait to be inside her. But not yet.