Читать книгу Twice Upon Time - Nina Beaumont - Страница 15

Chapter Seven

Several hours of his time and most of the contents of his purse were spent before Alessio was on the road leading to the coast, but neither point disturbed him. He still had half the night to get to Monte Nero and money was the means to an end for him—no more, no less.

The sky was turning an opalescent gray when the breeze brought him the first scent of the sea.

By the time he reached the crossroads that led up the hill to the Merisi villa, the first streaks of pink and pale blue were coloring the sky, but he rode past. He could hardly turn up and demand entry when dawn was just breaking. So he turned his mount toward the beach. Perhaps, he thought, the morning sea would quiet the thoughts that had turned turbulent again in the last hour.

He felt an unreasoning flash of irritation when he saw that he did not have the beach to himself. A boy, his chin resting on his bent knee, was sitting on the rocks, and although he sat very still, his gaze directed out to sea, the presence of the slender figure annoyed Alessio.

A split second before he turned his mount toward the other end of the beach, a movement caught his eye and, not knowing why he did so, Alessio remained where he was. The boy played with his hair, which he had pulled to one side. Then he lifted his head and tossed the hair over his shoulder so that a wealth of black curls flowed down his back. And Alessio knew that the lone figure watching the dawn was no boy but Bianca.

He looked up and down the beach for a servant, a man-at-arms. When he saw that she was truly alone, he felt a spurt of unreasoning anger even as he told himself that it was none of his concern. Still, despite the anger, he understood that he was intruding on a very private moment, and he might have retreated without making himself known to watch over her from afar. But his mount chose that moment to scent Bianca’s mare and whicker nervously. He urged his horse forward.

Bianca knew she was not alone. For a moment, but only for a moment, she thought that Lia had detected her absence and sent one of the servants after her. Even without turning around, she knew that it was Alessio who watched her.

She could feel his presence as surely as if he were touching her. Only his eyes rested on her, yet she could feel the warmth of his hands against her skin, trailing down in a lazy caress with the promise of passion. Already she could feel her body softening like wax against a flame.

Needing to break the spell, she tossed her hair over her shoulder. But there was no help for it. Still his gaze lay on her like a lover’s touch. Then she heard the horse whinny, and the sound of its hooves on the sand. Because she wanted to turn toward the sound, she laced her hands tightly around her legs and stared stubbornly out to sea.

“Have you taken leave of your senses?” Alessio reined in his mount directly in front of Bianca. Because his hand was heavy, the horse pawed the air in protest. “I could have been an outlaw come to rob or rape you and you sit there on your rock as unperturbed as if you were invisible.”

Bianca, her chin still resting on her knees, returned his gaze without any outward sign of the turmoil within her. He looked rougher than he had yesterday. He wore finely tailored velvet the color of the sea at nightfall, but the top buttons of his doublet were open and the laces of his shirt hung untied. The night wind had tangled his hair and his face was shadowed with a day’s and night’s growth of beard. And yet it was just that roughness, that wildness that accented the chiseled beauty of his features. It was just that roughness, that wildness that drew her.

“So.” She schooled her voice to sarcasm to mask the longing that had sprung up within her. “Have you appointed yourself my guardian now, Alessio? I am indeed touched.” Straightening, she kept her hands laced just below her knees, not trusting herself to restrain from reaching out for what she wanted so badly.

“Your fears are ungrounded. At dawn, all self-respecting outlaws are asleep after their night’s work. Besides, I have a trusted companion.” Her mouth curving in a suggestion of a smile, she withdrew a dagger from the sheath at her side just far enough that he could see that it was a true weapon and not a jeweled trinket for a lady’s hand.

“A man with but a whit of skill would have you disarmed in moments.”

“Perhaps.” Her voice remained even, but her generous mouth thinned. “Perhaps not.” She thrust the dagger back in the sheath with more force than necessary.

Alessio leapt off his horse and onto the rock she sat on so quickly that her hand was still on the hilt when he pushed her back. Bianca twisted to the side, managing to free the dagger. As she turned back to face him fully, she brought up one knee.

He was so close to her that she could feel the length of his hard, warm body along hers. He was so close to her that when she drew in a breath, she inhaled his scent. The sudden pleasure was so keen that she almost closed her eyes with it.

Her split second of hesitation was all the advantage he needed to shift away from her knee and to fetter both her wrists with his hard fingers.

“You were saying, madonna?” His tone was insolent, but his grin was more boyishly brash than arrogant.

“If I had not hesitated, you would have had my dagger between your ribs.” Bianca drew in a breath that was not quite steady. “And my knee between your legs.”

“Indeed, you are right.” He grinned again. “Why did you hesitate?”

Despite her ignominious position, his grin had her lips twitching with the beginnings of a smile, and she pressed them together. “It did not appear seemly to have my future brother-in-law’s blood on my hands.”

He raised a black eyebrow at her prim tone. “And what of the second?” He leaned into her, pushing the hand that still held the dagger down to the rock and pinning her legs with his so that they lay body to body.

With only the barrier of his clothes and her thin shirt and breeches between them, she could feel the imprint of his body against hers. She felt the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. She felt the pressure of his awakening flesh against her thigh.

“No answer to my question, madonna?” He laughed, but only to hide the catch in his breath from the dizzying speed of his arousal.

Her eyebrows lifted in a mocking curve. “It seemed a shame to maim what is apparently such a fine specimen.” Already she could feel his heat stealing through her, making her weak, and she began to struggle. “Let me go, damn you.”

“I think not.” He pried open her fingers so that the dagger slipped out of her grasp.

He was playing with fire, he thought as he looked down at her. Her hair was spread out to the side, inviting him to bury his face in the black curls. Her breasts rose and fell quickly beneath the thin white shirt, inviting the touch of his hands. The breeches and hose revealed her curves, inviting his body to fit itself to them.

“I didn’t come here for this.” Even as the words left his mouth, he pressed his body against hers. “I swear to you, Bianca, I didn’t come here for this.” His hands released her wrists and slid down to cover her breasts. “It is the truth,” he whispered, and lowered his head and took her mouth.

The moment that he tasted her, everything changed. The desire that had been quick and hot and simple was transformed into something infinitely greater. What had been quick became slow and languorous. What had been hot became hotter still—a quick-burning blaze that became the eternal sun. And what had been simple became infinitely complicated as Alessio felt his heart open to Bianca.

Had she ever felt anything like this? His hard body cleaving to hers as if they were one? Hands that fit her breasts so perfectly? A mouth that caressed, tasted, tempted? Had she ever wanted, needed so badly that the desire was as painful as a thorn in her flesh? A minute, she thought. Another minute and she would tear the clothes from her body and beg him to take her now, here, on this rock, with the dawn breaking in the east.

They were meant for each other. The thought struggled through the haze of passion, a single pure lily in a field of florid blooms. It was no longer a mere matter of two bodies that fit together as a hand fits its glove. It was a meeting of hearts. No, it was as if there were a single heart that beat between them, making them one.

It could not be. The realization of what was and what could never be came together, and she pulled away. This time, when she began to struggle, he let her go.

Bianca rolled away from him. Because she wanted to curl up into a ball and weep, she sat up and, with her last bit of strength, recast her tears as furious words meant to conceal her new, terrible understanding.

“What a sorry excuse for a man you are, Alessio! You warn me of outlaws who would rape me and then you do naught but attempt the same thing yourself.”

Remorse, which lay like ashes on his tongue, turned to fury, but he stayed the hand that would have lashed out at her. Once he had touched her, he knew, the anger would turn into passion as surely as ice would turn to water in the heat of the summer sun.

“If I had joined my body to yours, Bianca, you know full well that it would have been your doing and your wish as much as mine.” He shifted closer to her. “Look into my eyes and deny it.”

She met his gaze squarely. “I would have lain with you, Alessio, because my body wanted yours. And it would perhaps have been my doing, but not my wish.”

“Do you truly speak the truth, madonna, or only what you would have be the truth?”

Bianca turned to look out to sea, wanting the water to chum and roil to match the upheaval of her own emotions, but the pale gray water was stubbornly placid as it lapped against the sand. Turning back, she met his gaze again.

“Can something be both truth and lie at once?” Her hands moved in a baffled gesture. “It would have been my wish because I wanted to he with you as I have not wanted aught else in this life.” She saw the flare of triumph in his eyes and raised a hand against it.

“But it was not the wish of my mind or my conscience.”

And your heart? a voice within her whispered. Was it not the wish of your heart?

Her words touched off an echo within him. “Nor did my mind wish it, Bianca. Or my conscience.”

“That makes us even, then.”

“No.” Alessio shook his head. “Do not make it less than it was. It was not merely the desire of a male body for a female one. It was the desire of this man for this woman. Alessio for Bianca.” His mellow voice lowered to a seductive whisper. “For no other.”

“Did I deny that?” She glared at him. “Did I? It was the desire of your body for mine, my body for yours. No more and no less.”

“Why do you demean it?” Bleakness threaded through his anger, blunting its edge.

“There is no ‘it,’ Alessio. You cannot demean what does not exist.” She threw up her chin. “There is nothing between us. Nothing!” She heard the desperation in her own voice and hated it.

“Nothing?” His voice was deceptively soft.

“All right,” she snapped. “A kiss, then. I gave you a kiss, naught else.”

“Bianca, if I had pushed you this much—” Alessio held up thumb and forefinger with barely a space between them “—you would have given me anything. Anything.”

She battled down the thought that she had already given him far more than she had reckoned with.