Enchantment & Bridge of Dreams (48 page)

“The same way that you knew, Cathlin.”

“Dreams?”

“Of us. Together. Yes to all of it, no matter how bizarre it sounds. I remembered the desire, Cathlin, and all the unbearable loneliness.”

“No, you're lying. You're just like all the others. They told me to wait, that my memories would come back when I was ready. But God, they never told me about this second set of memories.”

Dominic held out his hands, and Cathlin saw they were trembling. “Am I lying about
this?
Am I lying about wanting you so much I can't sleep or eat or breathe for the pain of it?” He cursed savagely. “You think I enjoy being ripped in two, feeling another man's thoughts hammering inside my head? Do you think I enjoy lying awake night after night and seeing you, cool, beau
tiful and naked, waiting for me? Wanting me. Dear God, wanting me so much that I can't ever be free of you.”

Cathlin shivered. He couldn't lie, not in such a tone, not with eyes that blazed with such fury. She, too, had seen his body hotly naked, wanting her in a way she'd never been wanted before. She had felt the same wrenching loneliness, a dark emptiness that reached out beyond the years, across a bridge of dreams, tormenting her with a happiness she had known too briefly and then lost.

She tried to argue. The small, sane part of her mind shouted he was lying. But she was already beyond reason. It was a matter of blood now, of yearning blood and hot wanting muscle. While the fog drifted, coiling about her legs, Cathlin finally accepted that.

Past and present swam around her, inexorably entwined, kindled minute to minute, hour to hour, lifetime to lifetime.

Dominic caught her hand to his lips. “Tell me you can't feel it, Cathlin,” he challenged her hoarsely. “Tell me you don't want this as much as I do.”

She couldn't. Her eyes betrayed her dark secret. His touch left her skin hot, hungry, wounded by a thousand memories.

Of Cathlin O'Neill. And of Geneva Russell.

“No!” Cathlin closed her eyes, trying to tear herself from the past, from memories that tore at her sanity.

 

S
HE WORE ONLY THE FINEST
cambric chemise, now damp and nearly translucent. She was all soft shadows beneath the moon.

 

D
OMINIC'S EYES WERE A
blaze of green. “You remember. You're seeing it now, aren't you? God, just the way I am.”

 

H
IS FINGERS WERE NOT
quite steady as he slid her chemise from her shoulders, following the fine fabric with his mouth, kisses like
a dark storm. He had no gold nor stars to give her. All he had was his touch and his wild joy in her.

 

“T
ELL ME
C
ATHLIN
,”
Dominic said hoarsely, his fingers in her hair, his lips pressed to her satin cheeks. “Tell me I'm not going mad alone. Tell me that and I'll stop.”

How could she when it was true? Too many memories bound them and too many regrets.

Above them the roses danced. Fog swirled noiselessly as a great gray cat flicked his ears and then slipped off through the shrubs. A dim shimmering, the faintest trace of light, outlined the edges of the little grove.

Cathlin tried to hate Dominic Montserrat but she couldn't. She couldn't even distrust him. There was too much living, breathing past between them. And right now Cathlin's body was remembering every silken second of that past.

She felt him tense slightly. Because they were so closely attuned, she could read every one of his gestures. “Your shoulder's hurting you,” she said accusingly, expecting him to lie.

Before the fog, before the river, he
would
have lied. But not now. “It…does hurt, but not badly.”

“Why didn't you tell me?”

“Because it's not my way, Cathlin. I've been trained not to show pain—as far as possible not even to feel it. That was my career, and it became my whole life.” He laughed bitterly. “Yes, that was at the very top of Ashton's rules—never let them see you sweat. Never show a hint of weakness, because there's no room for weakness when you're doing close protection at the top.”

“But you gave it up, Dominic. The old rules are gone.”

“I had to. It was that or lose everything I valued, everything that kept me sane.” His eyes closed. “What do you want from me, Cathlin?”

“I want everything, Dominic. All that Geneva had—and lost.”

“We can't go back, Cathlin. If there's anything I've learned, it's that.”

“Maybe we don't have to. Maybe it's all here.” She ran her hands over the warm skin atop his heart. “Deep in here. Maybe we're here to finish all that wasn't finished then.” Her lips slid to his jaw.

“The timing's wrong, Cathlin. What if something happened to you now—”

“Officer?”

“What?”

She placed her hands on his shoulders and pushed him backward until he was cushioned by the mossy bank.
“Shut up.”
She tugged open his shirt. Her lips grazed the warm skin at his neck. Her hand slid down his chest, exquisitely slow.

With a low curse he pulled her beneath him, a dark gleam of determination in his eyes.

“Dominic? What are you—”

“Be quiet, beauty.” His fingers jabbed at the little buttons on her blouse. He watched her skin come free, warm and hungry and flushed. Inch by inch the cool silk slid back, while his eyes locked on her face.

The last button pulled free. “Sweet God, Cathlin,” he said hoarsely. She was lush ivory skin capped with tight nipples of dusky coral. His head fell and he took one pouting crest, smiling when she moaned.

“Dominic, I—” She swallowed. “Oh, God, you—”

He circled her wrists and shoved them to the cool, soft moss. His body fit the perfect mold of hers as he explored her, stroking crest and hollow and every bit of velvet in between. He groaned to find a tiny beauty mark just above her breast. A smoky crescent, it inflamed him, bringing memories of another time, another pair of lovers.

 

H
E SWEPT HER INTO A DARK
storm of feeling, in a place where all memories stopped and all wounds were healed. He felt her arch against him, a single word on her lips.

And the word was his name.

 

H
AD SHE WORN HIS
mark into another time, a reminder of all they had once been to each other?

Dominic closed his eyes. Every muscle screamed out, urging him to take all that beauty revealed before him, to spread her wide and fill her. His fingers tightened on her wrists with the fury of his need.

Not yet, he swore fiercely. Not until he'd watched her climax in her pleasure, not until he heard her cry out his name in wonder and delight as she had the night before.

Her skirt was long and soft, covered with roses. It moved easily beneath his fingers, rising over her thighs to cluster at her waist. He pulled aside the delicate swath of lace.

And then looked upon her, long-legged, beautiful, with another smoky birthmark nearly hidden by the graceful inner curve of her thigh.

He cursed darkly, at the very edge of his control.

There were no more words as he found her heat, pleasure hanging upon them like a haze. Cathlin's breath caught and she gave a soft cry. Her back arched, taut like a bow as she drove upward against him.

He watched, enthralled by her beauty, enslaved by the wanting and her elemental sensuality. With her fire summoning him, he spread her and laid his mouth against the silken skin which wore the dark mark of her beauty.

She twisted, cast against him anew, her breath a wild cry that echoed through their silent, rose-covered bower. And Dominic held her, his hands playing lovingly over her flushed skin as she fell back from heaven into the wonder of his arms.

He watched her, heat in his eyes, heat in his heart.

“Dear God,” she managed. “I haven't ever—” A ragged laugh. “That is, I didn't expect—”

“I'm delighted to hear it, my sweetest love.” Smiling gently, he eased deeper inside her. Instantly she opened, yielding around him, all heat and silken skin. All flushed woman.

Deeper, gently deeper. Finding, learning.

Loving.

It was all that Dominic wanted, this joy, this fine delight reflected in Cathlin's love-hazed eyes.

Moving deeper, he molded her to his conquest.

Her hands opened, nails sharp at his shoulders. “Sweet God, Dominic, no! I—”

She arched against him and cried out wildly, Dominic's name on her lips as she was hurtled into another storm of pleasure.

Slow, breathless moments later she opened one eye.

A rose, broad-petaled and red, nestled at her neck, silver with dew. Dominic's smile told her he thought of different petals.

Her eyes widened. “I couldn't possibly, Dominic.”

The rose brushed her lips, then slid to her neck, crimson petals scattered in its wake. Cathlin watched, breathless, as the bloom made its way lower, petals shedding with every inch.

Dominic's smile grew darker as the lush petals traced the hollow of her stomach and eased downward.

“Dominic, I'm not at all sure that—”

But
he
was. God, how he was. Years of uninvolved emotion gave him the ironclad certainty now, and he used every shred of it in his silken conquest.

Then petal met dewy petal, crimson met softer crimson.

Cathlin's breath caught, desire swiftly rekindling. She moved to meet him, rapt.

Then her eyes opened. “Stop,” she said breathlessly, shoving at his chest. “I felt a rock.”

He stopped instantly, concern in his face as he slid aside.

But Cathlin was quicker. She followed her advantage instantly, slipping over him and pulling his shirt free, popping buttons with ruthless disregard. His belt hissed free and then a new set of buttons challenged.

Dominic frowned and stilled her hand.

But Cathlin tackled the buttons and watched his tantalizing inches emerge.

She reached out awed by the heat of him, the extravagant thrust of him.

Dominic cursed low and pulled her closer. His voice was like gravel, one final question necessary before turning back grew impossible. “Are you sure, Cathlin? Any more and I won't be stopping.”

Her eyes rose, smoke and amber. High above them a single beam of sunlight pierced the drifting fog and slanted down into their quiet corner of paradise.

“I'm not changing my mind, if that's what you're hoping for.” Her soft hands clutched his shoulders and sunlight glinted off her glossy hair. She inched against him, her eyes hazy with passionate intent. “Is this the general idea?”

“God…”

Lower. Soft and yielding. Hot ache spreading, joy building. Then the sudden barrier. Her eyes opened, pleading.

Dominic took a harsh breath and cupped her hips. With a hard thrust he brought himself deep and Cathlin cried out with the shocking joy of feeling him tight inside her.

Pleasure trembled, shimmered, any discomfort burned away by the fire of his fingers where they joined. She gasped and let her body fall, poured over him like a rain of roses. “Please, Dominic. All I want—is this, this with you.”

Her thighs slid warm against him. Dominic drove himself into her, gentle conquests forgotten, amusements irrevocably past.
Now his only need was to claim her, to possess her as completely as she had possessed him.

With every dark inch he came closer to that hot, still core, closer to the vow he had to pledge with body and soul.

Suddenly her body tensed and Dominic felt the pleasure rippling through her. His own followed, all dark fire and jagged fury, wilder than anything he'd ever known.

But in that moment he felt the mystery of a deeper joining, breaths and molecules fused, thoughts and memories and spirits bound together like sunlight amid the drifting fog.

And at that moment the scent of lilacs seemed to rise around them.

 

“T
OGETHER
,” G
ABRIEL
swore hoarsely, driving home to heaven.

“Forever,” Geneva answered, following him there.

 

S
LOWLY THE FOG LIFTED
.
A pair of otters glided through the green river and a thrush called from the roses.