Nicole Jordan (2 page)

Her heart began to pound. No man had ever looked at her this way, with something very much like desire. Was it possible he felt desire for her?

“Major Leighton…”

“My name is Max.”

She thought perhaps he intended to kiss her, but instead his other hand closed over hers, where unwittingly she had crushed the orchid between her fingers.

He took the bloom from her and lifted it to her cheek, running the delicate petals over her lips.

Helpless to move, she could only stare up at him.

“I need healing, sweet Caro. Can you heal me?”

Her heart lurched crazily at the question. He seemed to be asking for more than simple comfort. And she wanted to give it to him….

Suddenly he gave a start, as if waking from a daze, and took a step back, distancing himself with a muttered oath. “Forgive me. I didn’t come here to seduce you.”

Caro felt oddly bereft. That simple contact had left her shaken—yet his curse had filled her with hope. Perhaps he truly had wanted to kiss her but remembered that he was an officer and a gentleman. An honorable man would be reluctant to take advantage of their isolation.

But what if I want to be seduced?
The unbidden thought caught her off guard.

“My coming here was a mistake,” he said in a low voice, starting to turn away.

A feeling of panic swept through Caro. “No! Please don’t go.” She couldn’t bear to see him leave. “You haven’t tried the bath. And I promised to show you the techniques of massage.”

“I don’t want to put you to such trouble.”

“It is no trouble, truly. And you need it, Major. You know you do.”

He must have heard the plea in her voice, for he stood there in indecision. “This isn’t wise.”

Striving for calm, Caro adopted a mock sternness in her tone. “I have far more medical expertise than you do, Major. You should heed my advice.”

The shadows in his eyes softened slightly with a faint hint of amusement. “Or what? Will you bully me into doing your bidding the way you did Yates?”

“Indeed. I have a variety of methods to deal with recalcitrant patients, which I won’t hesitate to use if necessary.”

“Your threat sounds ominous. Very well.”

Stripping off his shirt, he tossed the garment down beside the stone wall. Immediately Caro felt her pulse leap at the sight of his powerful torso, rippling with muscle.

“Which pool should I use?”

“The middle one is the deepest—and the warmest. You’ll find it more appealing, despite the warmth of the night.”

“Do you intend to join me?”

She hesitated for a heartbeat. “Yes. A massage will be more effective in concert with the heat of the water.”

He gave a deliberate shrug, circling his shoulders as if trying to relieve the ache. “I would give a year off my life if you could give me some respite from the pain.”

Turning, he made his way across to the middle pool. “You told me your Dr. Allenby sometimes employs the Eastern arts here on Cyrene. Is massage part of the Eastern philosophy? You were constantly working Yates’s limbs to keep the blood flowing and to ease the pain.”

“Yes,” Caro said. “Eastern medicine puts great faith in the healing power of touch.”

She watched then as the major silently shed his breeches.

She had studied human anatomy before. And she had seen unclothed men countless times. But they were all cadavers or patients who were ill or injured. There was nothing frail or infirm about this man. He looked more like a Greek god, long-limbed and perfectly sculpted. There was a wild, primitive beauty to his body. The silvery light accentuated every hard muscle in his wide shoulders, his powerful back, which tapered to narrow hips, his taut buttocks, his sinewy horseman’s thighs….

The brazen sight of him took her breath away, while his casual nudity flustered her. But then, he evidently didn’t suspect she was sexually inexperienced. With her unconventional vocation, he would likely assume she knew about men and lovemaking. In the army, the only female medical orderlies to attend wounded soldiers were camp followers.

He eased himself into the pool. The lower side sloped much like the head of a chaise lounge, and he lay back, reclining so that the surface level came halfway to his chest. Shutting his eyes momentarily, he gave a harsh sigh of contentment as the heated water washed over him.

“You were right,” he murmured at last. “This is paradise.”

The silence that ensued, however, had the opposite effect on Caro. Her tension had returned with a vengeance.

She knew now that she couldn’t remain professional and indifferent with Max Leighton, as if he were any other patient. How had she ever thought she could?

“Are you coming in?” He was waiting for her, she realized. Watching.

It struck her then that she also had been lying to herself. She’d thought she had persuaded him to come here tonight out of simple compassion. Because he was hurting and she had never been able to turn away from anyone in pain.

But had she secretly hoped for something more?

She could hear her heartbeat vying with the low hum of the cicadas in the warm night and wondered if her inner turmoil showed.

Was this her chance to indulge her wild yearnings? Her feverish imaginings? She had controlled her restless longings for years, content to live her life without passion, on the shelf by choice. Yet tonight that could change….

“Caro?”

When he called to her again, she obeyed, as if lured by some irresistible force. She halted at the edge of the pool, and after a moment’s hesitation, let her gown drop to the ground.

When she lowered herself into the bath, her cambric shift floated around her hips. The warmth of the water caressed her body as she waded toward him, but it was the heat in Max Leighton’s eyes that made her feel flushed and feverish. His intense glance set her quivering.

By the time she reached him, she felt clumsy with nerves, yet she tried to keep her tone even. “Give me your back.”

He eased away from the wall and turned so that his back was to her. Kneeling behind him, Caro raised her hands and gently curved her fingers over his shoulders. At first contact she could feel the rigid tightness of the muscles.

“Close your eyes,” she ordered softly.

With a light pressure, she began massaging, making small circles with the tips of her fingers. The flesh beneath his skin felt as hard as wood, the tendons in his neck as taut as bow strings. His body was one massive knot, no doubt from both physical exertion and keeping his dark emotions bottled inside for so long.

“Just try to relax and feel my touch,” Caro murmured. “Let the water’s warmth soothe you.”

She heard him exhale as he surrendered to her ministrations, and she earnestly set about her task, using her fingers to work the strained, tight muscles in his shoulders, her thumbs pressing more deeply into the worst knots. When she struck a particularly painful spot, he arched in protest but made no sound.

Eventually she shifted lower, moving over the slick wet skin of his upper back. She faltered when her thumb found a long ridge near his right shoulder blade. “What is this?”

“A bullet graze.”

The answer disturbed her, reminding her of the dangerous life a military officer led, but she moved on, slowly kneading down his back with her fingers, pressing with the heels of her hands.

She covered every inch of skin, feeling the texture marred by other scars of war. At last the hard muscles seemed to be softening, even though the tension in his body was not relaxing as she’d hoped. Worse, an unmistakable tension was rising within her own body. The sleek flesh beneath her fingers seemed suddenly hot.

Abruptly leaving off, she moved up to his neck again. He gave a faint groan of mingled pleasure and pain as her fingers gently dug into the tendons there. After a moment, she lifted her hands to his ebony hair. It felt soft and satiny to the touch as she began massaging his scalp. She heard him sigh in pure pleasure this time, a sound that filled her with pleasure as well.

Caro drew an uneven breath, aware of the erotic sensations flowing through her. The rippling warmth of the water was somehow seductive, the silver hush of the night as unreal as a dream.

Was he feeling any of the same primitive feelings that were claiming her?

Slowly she let her hands slide down his back again, her palms molding to the warm skin, the sculpted muscles. He must have sensed the difference in her touch, for she felt a sharpened tautness in his body at her unintentional caresses.

And yet she couldn’t stop herself. Of its own volition, her thumb returned to the bullet scar. She let her fingers linger there, brushing the grooved ridge, wishing she could have prevented his pain. With a murmur of sympathy, she bent to press her lips against the scarred flesh.

She felt him stiffen, felt his long hesitation before he slowly turned to lean back against the sloping wall once more.

Her heart beat an erratic pulse in her throat as he looked at her. She was no longer a healer now; she was a woman. And the molten heat in his gaze only heightened the wild urges rioting within her.

He lifted his hand to touch her cheek, holding her gaze with his passionate intensity. “You must be some kind of dream…a lovely figment of my imagination. But if I am dreaming, I don’t want to wake.”

“Nor do I,” she said, her voice scarcely a whisper.

He drew her down to him to lie fully against his hard length while his arms came around her. Only the wet fabric of her shift lay between their naked skin.

Caro felt her stomach flutter violently.

His mouth almost touching hers, he brought her even closer, pressing her lower body against the rigid, swelling flesh at his groin, letting her feel his arousal.

She had seen animals mating, so she understood in principle the act of lovemaking. And her dearest friend, Isabella, had shared risqué tales of her various lovers. But nothing had prepared Caro for the reality of this man, for the feel of him, so swollen with male need. Or for the hot, shameless sensation that washed over her helpless body.

His warm breath caressed her lips when he spoke. “I want you.”

The fierce declaration took her aback. No man had ever said those words to her. His desire for her couldn’t be more clear. Yet she thought she understood: he wanted her for physical solace. He wanted to feel
life
, not death—and passion was a most profound expression of life. No doubt Max Leighton would respond this way to most any warm female body.

Even so, Caro couldn’t deny the responsive desire his words stirred in her.

His mouth covered hers then. His kiss was hard and fervent, demanding and desperate at the same time. She could feel the dark need in him as his tongue slid urgently into her mouth, stealing her breath completely.

An aching sound came from her throat, and her fingers clutched reflexively at the taut muscles of his shoulders. She had never experienced anything like Max’s dark, almost savage kiss.

Long moments later he broke off with a groan. Shutting his eyes, he rested his forehead against hers, as if struggling for control.

“You should stop me before this goes too far,” he urged, his voice undeniably hoarse.

Bewildered and more than a little dazed, Caro shook her head. “I…don’t want you to stop,” she said shakily.

For a dozen heartbeats he didn’t respond. Then he drew back, his eyes searching. “What
do
you want, angel? Tell me.” His hands came up to cup her breasts, his palms pressing against her nipples, which pebbled beneath the cambric bodice.

A streak of fire shot through her, and Caro had to fight to suppress an instinctive whimper. What she truly wanted was scandalous. She wanted
him
. To hold her. To touch her. To show her what pleasure was.

What if she was to give her body to him? an insistent voice asked. She never expected to see Max Leighton again after tonight. Once he returned to the war, he was unlikely to have any other reason for coming again to the island. And he could be killed….

The thought of this strong, vital man dying wrenched at her heart. But it only made her internal argument stronger. This could be his last night for passion.

And hers.

She couldn’t deny her yearning to be fully a woman. And now it was like a fire burning deep in her heart.

For once in her life she wanted to experience a man’s lovemaking. One moment to last her a lifetime.

Absurdly, though, she couldn’t bring herself to declare her need so boldly. In her role as a Guardian she had faced danger and intrigue countless times, but now she felt ridiculously awkward and shy. She could only answer indirectly and hope he understood.

“I…am not as experienced as you think me.”

He went very still. “Have you never been with a man?”

“Truthfully…no.”

A new silence lay between them. Moonlight played over his chiseled features while she waited for his response. Water lapped at her breasts and eddied between her legs, further sensitizing her feminine flesh, awakening long dormant desires, making her keenly aware of the hollow ache inside her.

“You had better go, then.” His voice was raw, almost harsh.

“I want to stay.” Her own voice dropped to a nearly inaudible whisper. “Please…I want to know what passion is. Will you show me?”

His hesitation drew out for an eternity. “I should be shot for even considering what you’re suggesting.”

“Please, Max?”

A tenderness stole over his expression. “Are you certain?”

She had never been more certain of anything in her life.

Tonight she would finally understand the mysteries between a man and woman. She could surrender to her most secret desires. She could be as wild and needy and womanly as she wished.

She had little doubt this man’s lovemaking would leave her breathless. She had no doubt whatsoever she would cherish this memory for as long as she lived.

In answer, she reached up to touch his lean cheek. “I know sometimes there is pain, so please…be gentle.”

“You needn’t even ask.”

He
was
gentle. Incredibly so. She could feel his determined control as he brushed kisses soft as butterflies’ wings against her lips, along her jaw, the skin of her throat. Still nuzzling, he lifted her up and eased her legs on either side of his hard thighs.