Nicole Jordan (29 page)

“You seem distraught, angel. I think you need soothing.”

For a moment Caro thought he meant to take pity on her. But then Max leaned forward, the heat of his breath searing her. Caro trembled at his brazen intimacy, but she was incapable of defending against her longing.

With infinite delicacy, he ran his tongue over the bud of her sex as he pulled another sphere free.

It was sweet agony. The slow, deliberate drag of the necklace against her moist, sensitive flesh. The wet suction of his mouth. The languid strokes of his tongue.

The sensation was overwhelming.

At the next heated lick, reason fled. Too weak to support herself, Caro reached out helplessly to clutch Max’s shoulders. She was wildly aware of his dark head between her spread thighs and the wanton way it made her feel.

His lips burned hot against her as another bead slid free. She whimpered at the blatant carnality of it. Unconsciously her fingers twisted in the waving thickness of his raven hair, while her pelvis surged forward to meet his feasting mouth.

His consummate skill was driving her mad. He knew exactly how to touch her, how to create an exquisite pressure that left her craving more, dying for more. His tongue played over her, rolling against the taut, erectile nub of her sex, while the beads continued to fall.

Half swooning from the staggering pleasure, Caro arched her back, seeking surcease.

“You’re primed for climax, aren’t you?”

She was whimpering now, unable to reply.

“Are you ready to come, sweeting?” He kissed her again, his lips suckling her swollen, plump flesh. “You
sound
ready.”

She
was
ready. The stabbing pleasure was too much to bear. Fountains of fire leapt from his mouth into her flesh, making her cry out. She exploded an instant later, his scorching mouth forcing jolt after tormenting jolt from her.

Her body quaking with pulsating release, Caro sagged weakly against the wall.

Yet Max wasn’t finished with her. He was still suckling her while she trembled with orgasmic fever, holding her body in thrall. He milked her senses for every last ounce of passion as he drew the final spheres of the necklace from their secret hiding place….

The next moment another climax began, surging after the first, a spasm so savage and intense, so prolonged, she screamed.

The wild, turbulent seizure left her gasping.

It was a long, long moment before she even began to recover her dazed senses.

Panting softly, Caro gazed down at Max.

He was looking up at her, so she could see the fierce glitter in his eyes, the wetness of his mouth as it curled in a gratified smile.

He brushed one last kiss against her quivering flesh, then rose.

To her utter surprise, he turned and casually walked away, swinging the beaded necklace from one finger. Still dazed, Caro watched the muscles in his bare, tanned back coil and slide under satiny skin, his hard buttocks flexing.

Lowering himself to sit on the edge of the bed, Max draped her silver necklace over his jutting manhood. Then he leaned back, bracing himself on his elbows, the length of him splendidly naked, utterly masculine, dangerously sensual.

“Now it’s your turn to service me,” he declared. “Take off your clothes. I want you naked.”

Caro stiffened at his haughty tone. Even if he was deliberately provoking her with his lord-and-master affectation in order to distract her, she wouldn’t suffer being his slave. “I have no intention of obeying you.”

“I’m certain you will.”

“How can you be so confident?”

“Because you want me inside you. You’ll find my cock much more satisfying than your necklace.”

That much was true, she had no doubt.

When she continued to defy him, his blue eyes ensnared her with a steady gaze. “I am waiting.”

Caro felt herself weakening. It mattered not a whit that she was still angry with Max. Or that he was well aware of the potent sexual power he held over her, the devastating charm that could so easily breach her defenses. The way he was looking at her was enough to shake her resistance.

Just now his eyes were so intense, so hot, she felt the invading heat burn right through her clothing to the bare flesh underneath.

“Is this your notion of proper submissiveness?” he demanded. “You’re my slave. It is your duty to cater to my sexual wishes.”

His arrogant air of command aggravated her so intensely, Caro almost told him to go to the devil. But her blood was up and she was spoiling for a fight.

And the simple truth was, she didn’t want to face the dawn without knowing Max’s passion once more. For a short while she wanted to pretend that danger didn’t exist. She wanted to make him forget his nightmares—and her own: the fear that they might fail.

When slowly she reached up to remove her robes, his mouth curved in a sardonic smile at her capitulation. Caro gritted her teeth, resolving to have her revenge.

She made a show of undressing slowly, letting her robes drop to the floor. She left on her necklaces, though, aware of the sensuous feel of the gold and silver curling around her bare breasts.

Max’s eyes sparked at her nudity, but his expression remained impassive. “Come here,” he commanded.

Moving to stand before him, she pointedly gazed down at his naked arousal. His dark, pulsing shaft, exquisitely thick and long, thrust proudly out from his sleek loins. The sight was so rawly masculine that it made her stomach quiver. Even more erotic was his adornment: the contrast of the delicate silver spheres looped around his hard flesh only compounded the hunger surging through her.

“You want me, don’t you.” It wasn’t a question, and his tone was faintly taunting.

Caro shivered with insatiable longing. “Yes.”

“Yes, what, slave?”

“Yes…master.”

“Very good. You’re learning. Let’s see now how skilled you are at pleasuring a man.”

He sat up then and drew her between his spread thighs. He was all warm, taut muscle against her softness, and Caro inhaled sharply, feeling the rigid, heated length of his sex brand her like searing steel.

When he reached up to fondle her breasts, she could feel the peaks hardening and thrusting out to seek his touch, could feel her nipples throb against his palms.

Heat flared through Caro as she watched his dark hands play over her pale skin…but then she deliberately pushed him away.

“You said I was to service you, master.” She kept her tone cool, making it sound more like a threat.

“So I did,” he replied casually.

She knew, however, that Max was not quite as unaffected as he pretended. His eyes were like heated sapphires, and his gaze never left her as he lay back among the cushions, her beaded necklace still adorning his loins.

Joining him on the low bed, Caro knelt beside him, reaching out to caress the hard, velvety smooth flesh of his erection. His arousal was enormous, throbbing, burning hot, yet she knew from experience that Max could be aroused further. And she was determined to torment him the same way he had done to her.

With a sweetly taunting smile, she stroked his inner thighs slowly, then let her hand slide under his heavy testicles. She saw his phallus jerk hungrily, a tear of moisture weeping from the swollen tip. When she squeezed gently, Max drew in a sharp breath, but then she wrapped another loop of the silver necklace around him, and his breathing faltered altogether.

Her own hunger overwhelming, she bent over him, tasting the tip of his rigid phallus as she tightened the strand of silver around the base.

He sucked in a harsher breath. “Merciful God,” he rasped, his voice heavy with desire.

She could imagine the vivid sensations he was feeling—the friction of the beads rubbing along his entire length as she increased and loosened the pressure.

For long moments she went on attending him, until suddenly Max made a sound in his throat, a low growl. When he pushed her up, Caro narrowed her eyes at him in surprise.

“Not just your mouth. I want you as aroused as I am.” At her puzzled look, Max glanced down at her loins. “Use your own wetness to make me harder,” he ordered. “Stroke your fingers between your thighs.”

When Caro obliged, she felt the dampness of her own need. She was dripping wet for him, aching for him. In fact, her whole body throbbed. Her pulse was reckless, her skin oversensitive, her breasts tight and feverish.

“Now touch me.”

His raw-silk voice seemed to stroke her senses and played havoc with her desire for revenge. Fighting her yearning, she let her slick fingers glide up and down his magnificent member till his own flesh was glistening.

At her erotic caresses, Max arched his back involuntarily and groaned, his eyes bright with fire. As if unable to wait any longer, he pulled the beads off his arousal and tossed them to the floor.

“Now,” he said, his voice ragged, “mount me.”

Despite her resolve to torture him, she had no wish to refuse. The way he looked at her made her feel utterly desirable.

Caught by his brilliant, intent gaze, she eased one leg over his narrow hips and sank down on him, gasping in pleasure as the huge, hard shaft slid relentlessly between her silken walls. It was exquisite after such long torment to feel him so enormous and hard and fiery hot, filling her to bursting—yet she needed more.

She needed to feel pulses of life flowing between them.

Purposely giving no thought to sponges or any other barrier between them, Caro captured Max’s wrists and pushed his arms over his head, pinning him down with her hands as she stretched out over him. The jewelry around her neck jangled faintly as it splayed over his chest.

She saw surprise darken his eyes as she slowly began to move her hips.

Max willingly let her have her way, surrendering to her evident need for control. It was several moments, though, before he became aware of the change that had come over Caro. She was no longer fighting him or herself, no longer taunting him.

Instead, her lovely face was set and intense, her eyes tormented.

With every rasp of her necklace-adorned breasts on his chest, every soft surge of her thighs, her passion became more feverish. Her hips began to move faster, with more urgency, her rhythm almost violent.

Bending, she kissed him wildly, and in a dazed corner of his mind, Max thought he understood her fierceness. The danger they faced had unleashed something dark and primal in her, and she was using their joining to express what she would never allow herself to say in words.

He found himself caught up in her savage intensity. When Caro shuddered convulsively, each tremor burned through him.

She was sobbing by the time she pushed herself up and threw her head back. And when she shattered, her cry stabbed into his soul.

Swept up in her storm, Max clutched desperately at her as a matching cry tore from him, a deep, raw sound that echoed the tumult pounding through his body.

In the end Caro collapsed upon him, her hair a cloud of waves around them. Max lay there, stunned, feeling her shivers, the aftershocks of passion and craving and release mingled with something deeper. Fear.

She might be unwilling or unable to admit it, but she feared losing him, possibly as much as he feared losing her.

When Caro finally moved again, she only wrapped her arms more tightly around him and buried her face in the curve of his neck, seeking comfort in a wordless plea.

His heart heavy, Max felt the same foreboding. And the same longing. To cling to the night, to deny the dawn. To somehow escape the danger that tomorrow would bring, yet still hold to the merciless commitment that duty and honor demanded.

Chapter

Seventeen

At half-past three, in the deepest hours of night, Caro left Max to return to the women’s quarters. They had made love twice more before resting. Not sleeping. Merely holding each other, tangled together, breaths mingling, drawing strength from each other.

No doubt it had been shameful for her to seek pleasure with Max under such dire circumstances, Caro reflected, but she felt no sense of guilt. She had needed his passion, needed the courage she derived from simply being with him, in order to face what lay ahead.

On the way through the dark house, she met only one guard, which encouraged her. The women’s quarters were silent, for all its occupants seemed to be slumbering.

All but Isabella. Her friend was wide-awake when Caro stealthily entered her room.

Wordlessly they dressed in black robes and turbans and girded their waists with daggers and primed pistols, before slipping into the corridor where Max awaited them.

He was just bending over the body of the guard, Caro saw.

Behind her, Isabella faltered, lifting shocked eyes to Max.

“He isn’t dead,” he murmured. “Merely unconscious.”

He propped the guard up in a sitting position so he appeared to have fallen asleep.

“This way, my lady,” Max added quietly.

Isabella showed no further hesitation as she followed Max through the corridors to his rooms. Caro remained behind her, protecting her back, until they reached the courtyard outside.

The sunken moon had nearly disappeared, and in the cool night, pale light illuminated the stone wall at the rear.

Max led them directly to an apricot tree that grew near the wall and hoisted Caro into the limbs first.

She crawled out along the sturdiest branch, then swung down to drop lightly to the ground. She found herself in a narrow alleyway. Turning, she stretched her arms up to assist Isabella, grasping her friend’s waist and lowering her carefully.

When Max followed the next moment, Caro released the pent-up breath she’d been holding.

Max gestured to his right, indicating the direction they were to take. Then he moved swiftly, unerringly along the dim alleyway, the two women close on his heels.

Upon attaining their rendezvous point, he held up a hand, silently ordering them to wait while he slipped through the door. Several taut seconds passed before Max returned to usher them into the dark stables.

Caro’s heart jumped when a shadow appeared in front of her, and her hand reflexively went to her dagger. But it was only Santos Verra, she saw in the faint moonlight that filtered in through a window.

Pressing one finger to his lips, the Spaniard pointed to a near corner. There were two figures lying on pallets—Berber grooms, evidently sleeping soundly.

When Caro raised an eyebrow in query, Verra nodded, acknowledging that he had managed to drug the grooms. Then, his white teeth flashing in the dim light, he turned to Isabella and took her slender hands in his strong ones.

With a bow, he kissed her fingers gallantly. The lady acknowledged his joy with a regal smile before pressing her palm against his swarthy cheek as an admission of her fervent gratitude.

“Now we wait,” Max murmured with barely a breath of sound.

The Spaniard showed them to a stall near the center, where they would remain hidden until it was time to leave. It came as no surprise to Caro that Saful’s stables were as magnificent as his house. Berbers reportedly prized their horses and pampered them far more than their own children.

All but a few of the horses were lying down, pleasantly snoozing, she saw. Four that had not been drugged were already saddled in preparation for a swift departure.

Caro settled in a comfortable pile of straw next to Isabella and took her hand, but she knew it was as much for her own reassurance as for her friend’s. She could hear the quiet snuffling of the horses and the snores of the Berber grooms above the beating of her heart.

They waited for over an hour before Verra began bridling their horses. He had wrapped the animals’ hooves with cloths to muffle the sound, so when they mounted and crept out of the stables, they made little noise that would alert the Berbers to their escape. Bracing for a confrontation, however, Max had drawn his saber.

Both Verra and Caro were also armed with sabers, since a blade was more useful in close quarters and could be wielded repeatedly, unlike a pistol or rifle that had to be reloaded after a single shot. A blade was less lethal than a gun as well, and they didn’t intend to kill their Berber hosts unless given no other choice.

Caro held her breath as they rode through the dark, silent streets, but there were no sudden cries of alarm to indicate they had been spied. When Max halted a hundred yards from the gates, she saw no sentries on the walls. Ryder most likely had disabled the guards as planned. And the huge wooden beam that should have barred the gate had been removed so that the massive doors hung open a mere crack.

Caro silently blessed Ryder for his proficiency, and blessed him again a few minutes later when the explosion came.

Their horses all startled at the powerful boom, and Isabella had difficulty controlling her mount, who clearly wanted to bolt back to his stable. Fortunately Caro caught the panicked animal’s rein as it tried to flee past her.

“Keep close,” Max ordered as he rode for the gate.

Willingly obeying, Caro spurred her mount to follow him, pulling Isabella’s along in her wake.

Max had already opened the gate when she reached it. He went first, his saber raised in anticipation of trouble.

Swiftly glancing behind her, Caro saw that flames had lit up the southern sky. And she saw movement in the streets as the Berbers were rudely roused from their beds.

Verra, at the rear of their little party, turned to defend the gate while the ladies escaped. By now Isabella had regained command of her horse, and she rode through, with Caro immediately following.

A group of mounted horsemen awaited them outside the stronghold in the shadows of the wall.

Thorne, leading a spare horse, was the first to greet them. “Welcome, my lady Isabella. A great pleasure to see you, as always.”

Hearing the high-spirited humor in his voice, Caro could tell that Thorne was enjoying himself. But his attention quickly shifted to Max, as if waiting for orders.

“We will ride ahead with Lady Isabella,” Max confirmed, “while you wait here for Ryder.”

“Very well.” Thorne’s tone turned deadly serious. “But keep her ladyship safe, will you?”

Max glanced at Caro, locking gazes with her. He was responsible for escorting Isabella from here, since with his experience he could best protect her if it came to a real battle. But he would far rather keep Caro safe.

“He will,” was all Caro said, yet he read her unspoken plea as clearly as if she had said every word aloud:
I trust you with Isabella’s life. Upon your honor, keep her safe as you would me.

Her silent entreaty made Max renew his vow to succeed. Nodding brusquely, he edged his horse closer to Isabella’s.

At just that moment a black-robed figure burst through the gate. When he ran straight for the spare horse, Max realized the man was Ryder.

And that he had been followed.

Several Berbers rushed through the gates after Ryder, swords raised in an attempt to prevent his escape. They wore no turbans or boots, yet even in their nightclothes, they seemed prepared to fight to the death.

In the dim light of the gathering dawn, Max thought he recognized Saful in the lead. Evidently the warlord hadn’t been fooled by the diversion for long.

When the Berbers charged the group of rescuers, Max responded to the danger out of sheer reflex. Keeping Isabella safely behind him, he wielded his saber expertly, holding off the assault with grim determination.

The familiar sounds of clashing blades sent blood surging hotly in his veins, and in a small part of his mind, he realized that at least one concern had been unfounded: When the time came to fight, his training and his instincts took over, his long years as a cavalry officer standing him in good stead.

Caro had less training in hand-to-hand combat, though. Out of the corner of his eye, Max saw that she had insinuated her horse between Ryder and the attackers, trying to give her colleague time to mount as she wielded her own saber against the fierce Berbers.

Fresh fear coursing through him, Max started to wheel his mount toward Caro before he heard her cry.

“Max, for God’s sake,
go
!”

“To me!” he shouted at his men.

Energized by his command, the Guardians closed ranks around him and Isabella like a swarm of locusts, surrounding them, protecting them. As one unit, they spurred their horses toward the mountains.

Max rode furiously with the exodus, shoulder to shoulder with Isabella. After a few strides, he threw a glance behind him. It vastly relieved him to see Caro and Verra were close. And bringing up the rear were Thorne and Ryder, bending low over their horses’ necks.

They set a swift pace across the valley, the hooves of their mounts pounding in Max’s ears. How many times had he played out this same scenario in battle? His heart pumping to the violent rhythm of churning hooves, the explosive report of muskets and rifles reverberating like cracks of lightning…

Hearing the unmistakable sound of gunshots behind him, Max glanced back again to see a dozen Berbers galloping after them in hot pursuit. Evidently they had found mounts elsewhere in the stronghold, and Saful looked to be one of the leaders. Worse, the eastern sky was beginning to lighten, which would make the Guardians easy targets for the Berbers’ rifles.

Thorne and Ryder must have understood the danger as well, for suddenly they both swerved to their left, heading west, no doubt in an attempt to draw off the pursuers.

A moment later another sharp crack from a rifle sounded and Ryder’s horse went down; the man was thrown head over heels, while his horse somersaulted over him.

The animal instantly began flailing, trying to rise, but Ryder lay still.

Max felt his heart falter, yet it alarmed him even more when he saw Caro abruptly draw rein. Her mount reared for a brief moment, but she held on, then spun to her left, chasing after her fallen colleague.

Max’s heart stopped altogether as he recognized her purpose. She would never leave her fellow Guardians behind, any more than he would have abandoned one of his soldiers in battle.

But it was his worst nightmare come to life—that she would sacrifice her own life for her friend.

Unconsciously he started to slow his mount, but Verra shouted at him, “Leave them! Your duty is to Isabella!”

Please. I trust you. Upon your honor, keep her safe.

Caro’s plea ripped at his conscience, at his very soul.

It was the hardest thing Max had ever done, but he gritted his teeth and kept his horse racing beside Isabella’s.

The group of pursuing Berbers split up then, a few breaking off to the left after Caro, while the main body continued north.

Max saw the distress and fright on Isabella’s face when she realized the implication of this disastrous turn of events, and knew his features showed the same anxiety. With sheer force of will, he tried to divorce his mind from all emotion, to concentrate only on the task of bringing Isabella to safety.

By now they had reached the far edge of the valley and begun the upward climb to the mountain pass. Their horses were already laboring before they had gone two hundred yards up the rocky slope.

These were not the magnificent Barbs that the Berbers prized so highly. These were fleet-footed Arabians, but without the strength and stamina necessary to outdistance the other, more powerful breed for long. The strides of the Guardians’ horses slowed almost to a crawl as the incline grew steeper.

Dawn broke in full-fledged glory just then, lighting the sky with rose and gold. Another backward glance showed Max that Saful’s warriors were gaining on them.

In the part of his mind that still functioned logically, Max knew they would be fortunate to make the pass before being overtaken. They’d been wise to keep fresh horses ready. And Hawk would be standing by with gunpowder to blow up the pass and halt the Berbers’ pursuit….

His whole body went cold with fear as he recognized the new danger. If Hawk’s explosion succeeded, Caro and her compatriots would be trapped on this side of the barrier, at the mercy of the Berbers. Already Ryder could be injured or even dead, which would make escape nearly impossible.

Gut-wrenching panic seized Max. He clenched the reins, his fiercest instincts warring inside him.

What decision to make? They were about to enter a canyon that would force them to ride single file, and his retreat would be blocked.

But it would be foolish to try to return for Caro now; not only was he too late to help her, he would only jeopardize their mission.

With sickening fear knotting his gut, Max bent grimly forward, helping his struggling horse lunge up a boulder-strewn bank. A moment later the cold shadows of the pass closed in around them.

When the trail leveled out, he glanced up at the rugged rock above. At first he saw nothing, but then some hundred yards ahead, he spied several figures poised above the narrowest part of the pass.