Dark Rider (24 page)

“Not while I’m here to rescue you.” Lani sighed. “But I’m afraid it’s too late for me to take your place. At this point I doubt if he’d accept Venus as your replacement in his bed.” She smiled with an effort. “I feel in the mood to play a game of cards. Shall we?”

Cassie shook her head. “I want to watch the porpoises for a while and then go down and check on Kapu.”

Lani nodded. “I thought as much. I suppose I’ll have to find Bradford to substitute.” She turned and strolled away. “He’s usually willing to accommodate me if he’s not too deep in his cups.”

Cassie turned back to the porpoises. Bradford was not only willing but eager to do anything Lani wished, she had noted. He was almost painfully anxious to please and accepted Lani’s sharp jabs and cool words with equanimity. Yet Cassie had an idea Lani enjoyed Bradford’s wry wit. During the past weeks the two had established a guarded relationship that was almost as unusual as the one Cassie and Jared shared—No, what was she thinking? There was no comparison. Blazing heat, instead of coolness. Civilized banter, instead of tense, explosive ejaculations.

Someone was watching her.

She glanced over her shoulder. Jared was standing on the bridge a few yards away. She inhaled sharply as
she saw his expression. Though fully dressed and impeccably groomed, this was the sinuous, naked savage who waited for her in his cabin, not the elegant daylight stranger. Lord of the Underworld, not the Duke of Morland.

When you’re not watching, he stares at you as if he wants to devour you
.

She could feel her body ripen, ready, as she gazed helplessly up at him. It was not supposed to be like this. She had thought she could keep the lines drawn, but they were merging, melting. Sunlight and darkness … one.

Something flared in his face, and he took a half step toward her.

No! Panic seared through her. The lines must be forced apart and kept apart.

She turned her back on him and stared blindly out at the porpoises.

She heard his low exclamation. She tensed, expecting him to come to her in spite of the rejection.

He did not.

A few minutes later she glanced over her shoulder.

He was gone.

But it was not over. Her rejection had been too blatant, and she would pay for it later.

But not now. Now the barriers were still in place. He had not been allowed to come out of that secret darkness to dominate the daylight.

Cassie stopped in the doorway in surprise. Not even the dim glow of a candle lit the cabin.

“Come in,” Jared said.

“I can’t see you,” she said as she took a hesitant step toward him.

“I know, but I can see you. Shut the door.”

Now that her eyes were becoming accustomed to the darkness, she could discern him on the bunk across the cabin—a paler silhouette against the deeper shadows. She shut the door, and an immediate uneasiness rippled through her. Now she could see nothing at all. “Light the candle,” she said.

“Afterward.” She could hear the rustle of movement across the cabin. “I don’t want you to see my face at the moment.”

“Why not?”

He was there before her, untying her sarong. He threw it aside. “It might frighten you.”

She took an involuntary step back but collided with the door. Smooth, cool wood pressed against her naked back and buttocks. The darkness sharpened every sense: the sound of his breathing, the scent of him, the warmth of his body only inches from her own. He was looming over her, and she was suddenly acutely aware of the power of his body and the fragility of her own. “I’ve never been afraid of you.”

“You’ve proved that by coming here tonight. I was wondering if you would.”

She had not even considered not coming to him. She had been drawn as inevitably, blindly, as if answering a siren call. It was night … and he was waiting. “Tonight is no different from any other.”

He took her hand and pulled her toward the bed. “Wrong. You’re an intelligent woman, and you realize that one response requires another.”

“I suppose you’re saying you’re angry with me.”

He pushed her down on the bed. “Extremely.”

“There’s no reason.”

“I can be an unreasonable man. Turn over.”

“What?”

“You appear confused. You were eager to turn your back on me this afternoon. Why not now?”

“Because I don’t know why—” She stopped and rolled over on her stomach. “Satisfied?”

“No, but I will be.” He sat down beside her and began to stroke her. He started at her shoulders and moved slowly down her spine. Her stomach muscles clenched; his callused palm was a sensual abrasion against the softness of her own flesh. The darkness made him a stranger, and yet his touch had the same familiar mesmerism. He asked in a low voice, “Why did you turn your back on me?”

Her heart was beating so hard and fast she could barely breathe. “You know why.”

“Perhaps. You think I broke those damnable rules you set.” His hand moved down to her buttocks, stroking, squeezing. “But don’t ever do it again. Do you understand?”

She didn’t answer.

He muttered a curse and his hands were suddenly beneath her, lifting her to her hands and knees.

“What are you doing?” she asked, startled.

“You seem to have taken a dislike to facing me.” He moved behind her on the bed. “I thought you’d prefer accepting me this way.”

He held her hips steady as he positioned himself. Then carefully, slowly, he slid into her.

She gasped as the tightness resisted and then gave way. His hands were on her buttocks again, squeezing, petting. The position was incredible; her breasts hung heavy, ripe, and she was so full of him, she couldn’t move.

He bent over her, pushing, letting her feel all of him. “Do you know how I felt when you turned your
back on me?” he whispered. “It was as if you’d slapped me and then pushed me away.”

It was what she had meant to do, she thought in despair. To push him back where he belonged.

“I wanted to come down from the bridge and bend you over the rail.” He started to move, punctuating each word with a deep thrust. “I wanted to lift up the skirt of your gown and come into you like this … and this … and this …”

Her mouth was open as she tried to breathe. Her arms were so weak they could barely hold her as waves of pleasure struck her with every touch, every stroke.

Wildness. Fever. Possession without surcease and without mercy. She didn’t want mercy. She wanted
him
.

But, suddenly, she didn’t have him. He was gone. No, he was there in the darkness, plucking at her breasts, arousing her to fever pitch but not giving her the fullness she needed.

“Jared …” She started to turn over but he stopped her.

“No, stay where you are.” He was in her again, moving, caressing her stomach, folding her around him. “I want it like this.”

Arousal and withdrawal and then arousal again. Madness. It went on until she thought she could bear no more. When he finally allowed them both the explosion they craved, she was sobbing with frustration and need.

The climax was without parallel.

She collapsed onto the bed, exhausted, nerveless, and totally helpless. She could not have lifted a hand if she’d tried.

He lay beside her, his breathing as labored as her own. “Don’t do it again.”

She felt a frisson of annoyance through the haze of pleasure enveloping her. “Was this supposed to be punishment? I thought you’d learned you couldn’t succeed in chastising me in this manner. I enjoyed it very much.”

He stiffened.

“And I think when I regain my strength, we will do it again.”

“The hell we will.” He was silent and then suddenly began to chuckle. “I can’t believe you. You’re not like any woman I’ve ever met.” He pulled her into his arms. “Thank God.”

He wasn’t angry any longer. She relaxed against him. “Don’t the other women you bed like this way? I found it very interesting.”

He kissed her temple. “But, then, you like everything I do to you. You’re delightfully pagan … Kanoa.”

He had not called her by that name since the first night. She felt a pagan when she was with him. This wild coming together in the erotic dimness of the underworld was becoming a sensual ritual she found irresistible. “But I don’t believe I like to be taken in anger. It will be better next time.”

“Will it, indeed? You’ll have to wait awhile for me to recover. I’m not sure it wasn’t myself I was punishing.” He added dryly, “Someday I’m going to find a way to avoid being the victim in our encounters.”

“It’s very simple. Don’t become angry without reason. I only turned my back on you. Why should it matter?”

“It mattered. It hur—It bothered me.” He stroked her hair. “I found my response as peculiar as you do. I
must be growing weary of this damnable arrangement.”

She felt a pang at his words. “I don’t have to come to you.”

“Yes, you do.” His arms tightened around her. “Every damn night.” He paused. “But that’s not enough. I want you to move your things to my cabin.”

She went still. “No.” She pushed him away and sat up. “I told you that—”

“I know what you told me. I don’t care. I want you here when I want you.” He pulled her back down beside him. “I want to reach out and touch you. I want to be able to have you when—” He kissed her roughly. “God, I wanted you this afternoon.”

“Let me go,” she whispered.

“You don’t want to go.”

No, she didn’t. She wanted to stay and be one with him. But if she didn’t leave now, she might give in to him, and that must not happen.

You won’t betray him if you get up and walk away
.

Lani’s words. True words. Darkness and sunlight. Already bits and pieces of their lives were becoming revealed to each other. A casual comment, a question, every word brought them closer. She must not cross the line from passion into intimacy, or she would be lost.

She pushed him away again, sat up, and swung her legs to the floor.

For an instant she thought he would try to hold her, but he did not. She stood up, searching for her sarong in the darkness.

“Someday you’ll stay.” His quiet voice followed her. “Every time we come together, you yield a little more.”

She found her sarong and hurried to the door, trying
to shut out his words and his certainty, which frightened her more than any boast would have done.

“I can wait.”

“I love your hair. Sometimes in the middle of the night long after you’ve left me, I think I feel it brush me.” He spread her long hair over his shoulders and pulled her down on top of him. He was silent a long time, and then his voice came out of the darkness. “It’s not going to matter, you know.”

“What?” she asked. The beating of his heart sounded like golden thunder beneath her ear, she thought dreamily.

“This. I can’t let it matter.” His hands stroked her hair. “Delilah …”

She was jarred from the euphoria. Papa. He was talking about Papa. Jared never mentioned her father, and neither did she. He was always there in the background, but as time passed, he seemed to fade in and out of her memory like a phantom. Everything was blurred by the fever of her coming together with Jared. “I’m not Delilah.”

“So you said.” His hands moved down her back. “Then why can’t I let you go? I thought I’d grow tired …”

That had been her hope also. After that explosive night two weeks ago she had tried to convince herself the hold Jared had on her senses was lessening, but she knew it wasn’t so. Lani had said passion seldom lasted, but she could not get enough. Perhaps there was something wrong with her. She had only to catch a glimpse of him on deck, and she began to tremble. She couldn’t wait until she walked through his door, and she knew it was the same for him. He took her each time as if he were starved for her.

His words were muffled in her hair. “I don’t want lies between us. I just want you to know. I can’t let it matter.”

But it already mattered or he would not say this to her. Despite his denial, she had reached him. Lani had been right: he was not completely hardened. It bothered him to know that the daughter of his enemy was bringing him pleasure. If she continued to please him, he might soften even more. She should feel happy, even triumphant. That she was neither frightened her. She would have to face that fear soon, but not now. There was time, and she instinctively sought to lose herself once more in the erotic realm that had become her haven.

“We’ll talk about it later.” She raised her head and looked down at him. “That’s not what I want from you now.”

He smiled sardonically. “What a demanding wench you’ve become. No, conversation isn’t what we want from each other.” He rolled her over and moved on top of her. “I beg pardon, Delilah.”

She closed her eyes to hide the hurt she should not have felt. She had only thought of remaining close to him; never had she considered it her duty to play the temptress.

He was inside her, his lips tugging at her breast.

She gasped, her nails digging into his shoulders as the rhythm started.

“So tight … mine. Christ, so much mine.” His eyes were closed, sensuality heavy on his face. She had seen that expression innumerable times in the past weeks. But the soft breath of a word that came from his lips she had heard only twice before.

“Delilah …”