Nicole Jordan (24 page)

When he joined her, to her surprise he lay down behind her, and pulled the blanket up to cover them both against the October night air.

When he began gently massaging the stiff, tired muscles of her shoulders and arms, she sighed in weary contentment.

“You are working too hard,” Max murmured, his hands moving on to lightly rub her back.

Caro nearly groaned with pleasure and relief. “It can’t be helped. Dr. Allenby still is too weak to leave his bed.” She closed her eyes, letting Max’s hands work their magic. “Perhaps it’s selfish of me, but I hope he recovers soon, for more than his own sake. I cannot leave Cyrene as long as he is ill.”

“You’re concerned you won’t be able to participate in Isabella’s rescue.”

“Yes. I don’t want to abandon our islanders with no one to care for them.”

“It seems to me that you need another doctor to take Allenby’s place.”

“I know.” She was glad she no longer had to keep up the pretense with Max. He understood now why she couldn’t become the island’s full-time doctor—because it would leave her no time for missions, and she had no desire to give up her role as a Guardian. “Dr. Allenby is growing more frail with each passing year. Yet it will be difficult to lure another qualified doctor here to Cyrene.”

“Why?”

“Because any surgeon with an ounce of ambition would far rather practice in London than our little backwater. I had hoped that someday we might build a real surgery and hospital on Cyrene, but that seems an impossible dream.”

“Not so impossible, but you can worry about it tomorrow. For now you need to sleep.”

Pressing his lips against her hair, he left off his ministrations and slipped his arm around her waist, drawing her back against him, cradling her in the curve of his body.

Caro silently savored the contact. She felt the heat of his arousal against her buttocks and knew Max wanted her, but evidently he intended just to hold her until she drifted peacefully to sleep.

With another sigh, she relaxed against him. She could feel his heartbeat, his heat, the strength of the arms that sheltered her.

She meant to draw from that strength, to take the comfort Max offered her. It had been so long since anyone had taken care of her, so long since she’d felt as if someone was guarding
her
, someone who would be strong when she was too weary to fight any longer.

His tenderness made her feel so cherished. The soft touch of his lips against her hair was so gentle, it made her throat tighten.

She wanted Max to keep holding her like this. She wanted to continue feeling this safe, this protected forever.

He was a protector at heart, she knew. Max possessed the same natural instincts to safeguard and defend that all the Guardians had. The same leadership skills she had seen in her father. That indefinable quality that would make men follow him into hell if need be. He would make a wonderful Guardian.

But it was foolish to hope he might become one of them. She doubted he would remain on Cyrene after their rescue mission was accomplished. Once he healed from his tormenting nightmares, there would be no reason for him to stay.

Even now the shadows in his eyes were lessening. He still wasn’t completely healed, but he was growing less restless day by day. And when he was whole once more?

He would leave her like the last time.

Even if he remained, even if he became a Guardian, it didn’t mean they would ever be anything more than lovers.

Caro squeezed her eyes shut as a wave of longing flooded her. She wanted more than to merely be Max’s lover. Tonight when she had held Mrs. Tompkins’s new baby in her arms, she had felt a fierce yearning in her heart. For a moment she had let herself wonder what it would be like to bear Max’s child.

But she couldn’t let herself think about such things. Max had told her clearly that he didn’t want children, didn’t want a wife.

She couldn’t afford to dream such fantasies. Couldn’t afford to let her emotions slip out of her control and leave her so utterly vulnerable.

It would be too easy to fall in love with Max then, and she would be left with only heartache and pain and regrets for the rest of her days.

Chapter

Thirteen

Golden brightness flooded the grotto when Caro at last stirred awake.

This was no sensual dream, she thought languorously. She could feel Max’s heat at her back, the soft stroke of his hand in the unruly mass of her hair, the thick, pulsing shaft that lay heavy and welcome against her bare buttocks where her shift had ridden up.

She opened her eyes slowly. Judging by the sunlight streaming through the crevice in the grotto roof, morning was half gone. Max must have awakened long before her but allowed her to sleep. He had already shaved in deference to her tender skin, she could tell from the fresh scent of his shaving soap and from the smoothness of his jaw when he nuzzled the column of her neck.

“Did I wake you?” His voice was low and husky and as caressing as his hand in her hair.

“Mmmm. I was dreaming about you.”

“A pleasant dream, I trust?”

“Indeed, although not as lovely as the real thing.”

As if reading her mind, Max slid his hand from her hair, around over her arm to cup her breast through the thin cambric of her shift.

Caro inhaled sharply. He could make her breathless with just a touch. Then he spread his hand flat against the quivering softness of her belly, moving lower between her thighs, feeling the heat and dampness and need of her.

She arched against him as unbidden, sensual images assaulted her, memories of everything his fingers had ever done to her…wildly wicked things that had left her gasping.

He gave a murmur of satisfaction when the liquid evidence of her arousal drenched his fingers, but to her surprise, Max only nipped at her earlobe before easing out from under the blanket and rising.

“Your bath awaits, milady,” he said, a teasing note to his tone.

By the time Caro realized that he didn’t intend to make love to her just yet, he had left the grotto.

Yet his absence gave her a moment of privacy to answer nature’s call and to make use of the sponges. When she was done, she followed him out of the grotto, into the bright sunshine.

Max had already waded into the lake up to his thighs, Caro saw. At the sight of him, she paused, registering the sheer physical splendor of his nude body, his potent masculinity. And when he turned to face her, her attention was drawn to that masculine flesh that could give such wild pleasure, and her mouth went dry.

“What are you waiting for?” he asked, raising an amused eyebrow.

She felt color warm her cheeks as she realized he had caught her staring. Her flush rose even higher when she drew her shift off, for Max stared back, his eyes hot, touching her everywhere.

Her pulse beginning to race, Caro entered the water. The lake was still moderately warm at this time of year after baking in the sun all summer, but the temperature of the falls was rather chilly, so she was surprised when Max swam toward them and stood up near the plunging cascade, where the swirling water was waist deep.

“The falls are a bit cool for my taste,” Caro protested.

“Never fear, I will keep you warm.”

He gave her that achingly familiar smile, and her pulse throbbed even harder.

Obediently she waded over to him. She could feel his gaze like a caress, drifting over her nudity as he scooped up water in one hand and let it run over her shoulders.

In his other hand he held a sliver of soap, and he began running it slowly over her neck, along her arms, down her belly, but not where she ached the most.

“Touch me,” she whispered.

“I intend to. But you need patience.”

He washed her bare breasts then, his hands moving against her pale skin, stroking possessively. His touch sent a pulse of pleasure shafting in her loins. The pale mounds were slick, her nipples dark and fully aroused, and Max’s eyes were a heated, brilliant blue as he watched his own ministrations.

“Now for the rest of you.” His knee came between hers and gently spread her feet apart, while his hand moved down between her legs, seeking and caressing, arousing.

Yet Caro didn’t need arousing. She was already hot and aching for him. His touch burned her.

“Max, please…”

After another moment, he tossed the soap onto the rock ledge behind her and rinsed off her body. Reaching up, he covered her breasts with his hands.

“Your nipples are such hard, delicious points.” He bent down to her, his tongue circling the dusky crests, now pebbled and urgent. “They taste like ambrosia.”

His devouring lips dragged across the taut peaks, pulling at the flesh, nipping softly, his tongue teasing and tormenting by turns while his lower body moved provocatively against hers, hardness against aching softness.

Her nipples hurt now, hard and pointed and chafed by the delicious arousal of his tongue and the sweet, hot suckling of his mouth.

Finally he left off and led her beneath the waterfall. Caro gasped as the water poured over them.

Unapologetically, Max smiled and dipped his head to drink a kiss from her lips. Then he drew back and put both hands on her waist, lifting her up to sit on the ledge so that her knees were nearly level with his chest.

The falls no longer spilled directly over them, but the sun barely reached her through the mist.

Caro shivered as gooseflesh rose along her wet skin. “Max, I thought you said—”

“Hush, you’ll enjoy this, I promise,” he murmured, holding her gaze with those astonishingly warm eyes.

She believed him when his hand splayed over her belly. His caress moved lower, his fingers encountering her thatch of fleecy curls. He teased her a moment, then parted her thighs, leaving her slim body open for his pleasure.

Ruthlessly his eyes devoured her; Caro felt she might melt from the blistering heat of his gaze. But then he moved between her legs, sending cold drops of moisture dripping off his wet hair onto her most sensitive feminine flesh.

An instant later, he bent to place his hot mouth on her. After the chill of the water, his touch was like fire, and she nearly moaned.

She did moan when he slid one finger inside her and his damp mouth found the nub of her sex. Her skin heated like a fever as a second finger joined the first.

His mouth gently suckled her then, his fingers buried deep inside her, dredging a groan from deep in her throat.

Caro shuddered helplessly, her flesh clamoring for release. She was trembling by now, her hips arched in desperation as she sought to press herself harder against his mouth.

But Max seemed to be in no hurry. Draping her legs over his shoulders, he slowly sucked and licked, bringing her dangerously near the peak, delving his fingers deep inside her while his tongue played over her…arousing her ruthlessly, then denying her for the apparent pleasure of hearing her moans grow wilder.

“Max, I can’t bear any more. Please…”

“No, not yet,” he answered.

He seemed to savor the breathy sounds she made as she thrashed feverishly beneath his caresses. Then suddenly she flowered for him. Her hands sank deep into his scalp as she gave one last keening cry.

“Easy.” His voice was soothing, but she didn’t need him to whisper gentle, calming words. She needed
him
. Desperately.

“
Now,
Max, please…”

He required no further encouragement. In one smooth movement, he lifted himself onto the ledge, then repositioned Caro to lie beneath him.

Shifting his weight to cover her body, he eased between her thighs, stroking his velvet-sheathed hardness against her feminine folds. He slid into her while she was still pulsating with pleasure.

His face rigid with desire, he buried his hands in her hair. Caro saw his eyes, fierce with tenderness and intent as he sank into her, heavy and hard and deep.

She groaned to feel his rigid fullness inside her, filling her.

“God, I love being inside you.” His voice was heated and devastatingly sensual. “Each time I slide into you I want more.”

So did she, Caro thought, dazed. His possession brought her such bliss she thought she might faint with it.

“You feel so incredible, so warm and wet and tight.”

His hips began to undulate while his voice murmured words of praise and pleasure in her ear.

He tortured her with exquisitely slow thrusts, each drugging stroke heaven. Whenever he drew back, Caro strained to hold the hot, sweet shaft buried inside her, whimpering with relief when he filled her again, but he kept moving, changing the rhythm, the pace, the depth. His hands and mouth caressed her body in unison, tantalizing her almost beyond endurance.

When at last he slid home to the hilt, plunging deep, Caro responded with equal fervor, trying to melt into him as he surged inside her.

He kissed her again, his mouth hard against hers, his tongue moving in the same demanding rhythm as he filled her again and again. Her hips met each plunge, her body straining for release, and she groaned, a pleading sound of need. This was desire, she felt it surging through her body. Felt herself shaking with it.

She could barely hear the rawly sexual things Max was saying to her over the rasping sound of her breaths, the frantic thudding of her heart, the rushing waterfall. She was writhing beneath him as he took her with urgent, deep strokes, her body soaring wildly out of her control.

A wave of stunning sensation hit her, colors and blinding light blurring before her eyes, yet Max never ceased his primitive possession. He seemed oblivious to her fingernails clawing his naked back as she surged and contracted, but when a raw cry ripped from her throat, he pressed her face against his water-slicked shoulder to bury her scream.

Long, long moments later Caro regained some of her fragmented senses.

Max was watching her, she realized, his eyes lustful as they lingered on her heaving breasts and jutting nipples.

And he was still hard and full inside her.

Without giving her time to protest, he bent to lave the aching peaks while he reached down to grasp her buttocks. He held a cheek in each hand, gently squeezing the soft flesh as he pushed into her again, deep and sure and powerful.

Reflexively Caro clenched him tightly within the depths of her body, even though she had no energy left.

He kept thrusting heavily into her and it happened again; she came in an explosive climax that was even more forceful than the one before, dredging more helpless cries of pleasure from her.

This time when she shattered, Max could no longer resist the delicious clasping and gripping of her inner muscles around him. Letting himself surrender, he drove into her, knowing a pure, raging joy as he unleashed the wildness in him. His own body ignited with a fiery urgency, and he came in his own fierce explosion as she wept soft, mindless sobs of rapture.

Afterward they lay tangled in each other’s arms. The ripples of pleasure faded eventually, but the soft mating of their breath continued as Max’s lips lingered on hers.

The mist was still cool on their overheated bodies, yet Caro knew the tremors that still shivered across their skin had less to do with the temperature than the searing passion that had claimed them both.

Caro shut her eyes, curling against him in sated contentment. She hadn’t meant to respond with such raw unbridled need, but the racking pleasure had exhausted her. She had been twisting and straining with such ecstasy she’d been mindless with it.

“Oh, no, angel. You can’t fall asleep now.”

Wearily she forced her eyes open, to find Max gazing down at her with a lazy, breathtaking smile.

After the fierce demands he had made on her body, she’d thought herself beyond arousal, but his eyes were hot and held dark promise. Instantly she felt another fierce wave of longing sweep over her.

Wetting her dry lips with her tongue, she managed a smile. “Sleep,” she said hoarsely, “is the last thing on my mind at the moment.”

He pressed his hips closer, sending quivers of wanting shooting through her.

“Good,” Max said with satisfaction, “for I still have any number of other ways to keep you warm.”

“I want a word with you, sir.”

Max raised an eyebrow at Dr. Allenby’s brusque greeting. The elderly gentleman was sitting up in his bed, looking weak and pale but still full of vinegar.

Max had been surprised by the doctor’s summons to visit that afternoon—yet judging by Allenby’s surly reception, he didn’t intend for this to be a social call.

“I hear you have been invited to join the Guardians,” Allenby growled, narrowing his craggy brows. “Do you mean to accept?”

In the days since Caro’s remarkable disclosure about the Guardians of the Sword, Max had thought of little else, but he had come no closer to making a decision. “I haven’t yet made up my mind.”

“If you don’t intend to stay on Cyrene, it would be better if you left.”

“I’m not certain I take your meaning,” Max replied.

“My meaning? I wish to know your intentions toward Caro, sir! Are they honorable or not? Are you courting her, or merely trifling with her to pass the time?”

“I should think that is a matter between Caro and myself.”

Allenby glared in a manner designed to intimidate. “I am making it my business, young fellow. I have stood in place of Caro’s father since his death, and I have a responsibility toward her.”