Nicole Jordan (35 page)

Max seemed to be wondering the same thing. “Say it again, angel. Tell me that you love me.”

“I love you, Max Leighton. I will love you now and forever and always.” She raised her hands to his raven hair. “But I think I would rather show you instead.”

She kissed him again, letting her lips brush his slowly, fervently, this time.

Raw need bolted through Max, and he wrapped his arms around her tightly, drinking her in, absorbing her. After all the apprehension and uncertainty of the past weeks, he was like a parched desert, craving the life-giving rain that was Caro.

And like rain, she brought all his body to vivid life; he suddenly felt white-hot with desire.

Max heard himself groan, heard the soft whimper Caro made as she responded to his impassioned kiss. Yet with a herculean effort, he wrenched his mouth from hers.

Breathing hard, he gazed at her in frustration, clenching his teeth in an effort to ignore the burning in his loins. “Enough!” His voice held an unmistakable hoarseness. “If you keep that up, I’ll wind up taking you here and now. As much as I want you, angel, I don’t intend to make love to you until we are well and truly wed.”

Escaping her embrace, Max flung himself on the bed and pushed back against the bed’s mahogany headboard, creating a safer distance between them.

Caro stared at him, obviously bewildered.

“I’m told,” Max said with a pained grin, “that I can petition the bishop at Gibraltar for a special license to wed, so we won’t have to wait three weeks to call the banns, but it will still take the better part of a week.”

Her confusion easing into a smile, Caro climbed onto the bed beside him. “If we were at sea, Captain Biddick could marry us.”

“But I want a proper wedding. I want the whole world to know that you are mine.”

Shifting onto her knees, she leaned closer to Max. “Must we really wait that long?” She reached out to run a provocative finger down his chest, lingering on a button of his waistcoat.

Flinching, Max caught her hand and held it away. “I’ll thank you to behave yourself, witch. Thorne would carve out my liver if I made love to you again without the benefit of matrimony. It was all I could do to convince him to write that note to summon you here.”

Caro frowned suddenly. “Thorne was in on your ruse? Devil take him! I will carve out
his
liver for terrifying me so.”

“You can’t blame him. He only wanted to be certain that I proposed to you again. In fact, he’ll be waiting below to learn if I succeeded.”

Caro pressed her lips together, not at all mollified. “I suppose I should inform Isabella as well. And I should let her know that you aren’t on your deathbed after all. She came here with me because she feared for your life, as I did.”

“By now Thorne will have told her why I resorted to subterfuge.” Max regarded Caro thoughtfully. “How will she take the news of our marriage?”

“She will be delighted, no doubt.” Caro gave him a sugary smile. “
Despite
the fact that only an hour ago she was encouraging me to take another lover so I could get over you sooner.”

Max’s gaze narrowed. “Was she, now?”

“Only because she saw how miserable I was when I thought I had lost you.”

“I can see I will need to have a serious discussion with Lady Isabella. I warn you, as long as I have a breath left in my body, you won’t be taking any other lovers.”

Caro’s smile softened. “You needn’t worry, Max. I would never, ever want anyone but you.”

“And I only want you, my bewitching angel.” His voice was rich and husky, while a hard and beautiful vibrancy shimmered deep in his eyes. Caro glimpsed such love there that it rocked her soul.

Her fingers rose to caress his cheek. Her aching heart was too full of joy, yet she wanted to give him one last opportunity before he sealed his fate.

“Max, are you
truly
certain you want to wed me?” she asked. “I would be content to just be your lover.”

Max turned his face to press a kiss against her palm. “But I couldn’t be. I want you for my wife, Caro. I want to be your husband, the companion who grows old and gray with you, as well as your only lover.”

Her smile was tremulous. She still couldn’t accept how desirable she was, Max knew.

Despite the danger of losing control, he gathered Caro fully against him. Resting his cheek on her hair, he simply held her, letting his embrace communicate how much he desired her. He could feel the shaky breath vibrate through her body, and a fierceness took him.

He wanted Caro as his lover for all time. Yet while he would claim her body, he knew it would never be enough. Even her love would not be enough. He wanted to possess her soul, the way she possessed his.

He wanted every part of her, for the rest of his days. And he would take great pleasure in convincing his lovely bride of that unalterable fact.

Epilogue

Torches blazed on the walls of the rock chamber, casting a brilliant glow over the small private ceremony where Max was being knighted as a Guardian.

The initiation rites to welcome him into the order were simple but solemn. He stood before the altar, with Sir Gawain presiding, and solemnly swore an oath to protect and defend the ideals that the Guardians held so dear. Then, commanding Max to kneel, Sir Gawain raised the magnificent sword Excalibur.

Light flashed and glittered on the jeweled hilt, infusing Max with the same sense of awe and wonder he’d felt when he first spied the legendary weapon. And when the heavy steel blade touched his shoulder as he was dubbed, he could swear that a sizzling current of energy leapt from the metal into his flesh, almost burning him. At the same time he was filled with a powerful feeling of calm, of peace, of rightness.

“You are now a Guardian of the Sword,” Sir Gawain pronounced gravely.

When Max rose, his bride of four hours moved forward, her joyous smile bright enough to rival the torch flames.

Caro intended merely to embrace him, Max knew, but he drew her into his arms and captured her mouth with a fierce kiss. She tensed in startlement at first, then returned his caress with obvious fervor, her hunger matching his, revealing how difficult it had been for them both to endure their abstinence.

Their kiss went on for such a long moment that eventually Sir Gawain cleared his throat. When Caro emerged from Max’s embrace, her face flushed with embarrassment, the jovial sound of male laughter rang out from their sparse audience.

Behind the baronet, Thorne looked on like a benevolent older brother. John Yates beamed, while Santos Verra grinned ear to ear. Ryder, much recovered from his thigh wound, was there, as was the Earl of Hawkhurst.

“Evidently, Leighton,” Hawk drawled wryly, “no one informed you that kissing is not part of the customary initiation.”

Max grinned but kept one arm possessively around his bride, feeling no remorse. This was the first time he’d been able to do more than touch Caro since their espousal hours earlier.

They’d been married in the great hall shortly before noon. It seemed fitting that Sir Gawain had acted in place of Caro’s father, to bestow her hand on Max.

The wedding breakfast that followed was a splendid feast that had gone on all afternoon. The guests were still merrily celebrating when a handful of Caro’s closest friends and fellow Guardians had slipped away, into the depths of the castle, and rowed across the underground lake to the chamber where the legendary sword was kept secreted.

Now Sir Gawain carefully restored the sword to the altar. Then one by one, the Guardians heartily shook Max’s hand and embraced his new bride.

Sir Gawain was last, and his eyes had grown misty when he kissed Caro’s cheek. “I wish you a long and happy life together.”

Her smile was radiant as she slipped her arm through Max’s. “I have high hopes that it will be.”

“Well then,” the baronet murmured, “we should return to the wedding celebration before we are missed.”

Max gave the resplendent sword one final look before descending the stone steps after Caro. The Guardians separated into two boats, with Thorne rowing the newlyweds.

Taking the lead, his boat retraced their earlier route, entering the giant cavern with its fantastic shapes and hues and crossing the dark, shimmering lake, both of which still held Max spellbound. After docking in the sea cave, they climbed up from the dungeons and negotiated several castle corridors and storerooms to emerge in the great hall.

The sound of musicians tuning up greeted them. There would be a supper soon and a ball afterward, which would continue long into the night.

“You must promise me a dance later, love,” Thorne murmured wickedly to Caro. No doubt, she surmised, because he knew how much she had once despised dancing. Yet that was before Max had taught her to waltz.

Before she could reply, Max shook his head. “Sorry, old fellow, but you will have to claim my wife’s hand some other time. We won’t be remaining long enough for her to dance.”

“Spoilsport,” Thorne gibed.

“Go find your own bride if you’re so keen for a partner.”

Laughing, Thorne held up his hands as if to ward off the very thought. “Pray, don’t wish such an appalling fate on me just because you found the one woman in the world who is worth a kingdom.”

“Much more than a kingdom,” Max said softly, gazing at Caro.

His intimate, loving glance warmed her down to her toes. And when he drew her to his side, she was intently aware of the strength of the arm that lay draped so casually over her shoulders, and the heat of his body.

Just then Dr. Allenby broke from the crowd and came toward them. The doctor had not been part of the ceremony, for he was not officially a Guardian, but he knew enough about their order to guess what had just happened.

He clasped Max’s hand, offering his congratulations, before kissing Caro’s cheek fondly. “You look positively radiant, my dear. And I retract all the derogatory remarks I made about this chap of yours. He isn’t as bad as I feared.”

“No,” she agreed, laughing, “he isn’t bad at all. You might even say we are extremely fortunate to have him here.”

Dr. Allenby gave a reluctant grunt.

Max broke into their musings. “Doctor, pray excuse us.”

Without waiting for a reply, he drew Caro to one side of the hall. When he bent to whisper in her ear, the brush of his warm lips made her shiver. “I think it’s time for us to take our leave, don’t you?”

The sensual heat in his eyes began to work on her pulse, and she had no trouble reading his unspoken message: He badly wanted to make love to her.

“I must say good-bye to Isabella first,” Caro replied, an aching need for Max welling up in her.

“Very well, but do it quickly. I can’t vouch for my control much longer. I’m likely to throw you over my shoulder and carry you off so I can ravish you.”

They found Isabella holding court among a half-dozen male admirers, but she soon spied them and excused herself.

With a loving smile, she embraced Caro in her soft, perfumed arms. “It does my heart good to see you so happy, my dearest girl.”

“I
am
happy, Isabella. Deliriously so. But will you forgive us if we take our leave now? It is our wedding night after all.”

“Go,” Isabella said with a laugh. “I still remember what it was like to have a handsome rogue for a husband.”

They were mostly silent when they stole from the hall and walked hand in hand to the stables, where Max had already made preparations for their escape, including horses and supplies to last several days.

He helped Caro up, then mounted behind her and wrapped his arms around her. The waning November afternoon was bright with sunshine, so there was no need to warm her, yet Max was driven by the compelling need to hold her.

They turned north as they rode away from the castle, for they intended to visit their secret grotto before consummating their marriage at the Roman ruins. By the time the horses began the climb through the tangle of myrtle and pine, perhaps a half hour of daylight was left, and the setting sun cast a golden hue over the wild terrain.

A feeling of great contentment settled over Max. He was home now. He belonged on Cyrene. Yet he would always be home as long as he held Caro in his arms.

This island was a haven, but it was Caro who had sheltered him, who had healed him. Who had made him see the beauty in life again.

This island was a sensual paradise, with an uncanny ability to arouse the senses, but the soul-deep pleasure he felt was due wholly to this remarkable woman.

When she leaned back against him and sighed, desire, heavy and urgent, began tightening his body.

Wincing against the relentless ache, Max shut his eyes. He was grateful the waiting was almost at an end so he could make her his wife in truth. In his mind he was already inside her, tasting her, feeling her, giving her pleasure…. Loving her.

He had become a Guardian in more ways than one when he’d sworn the oath to protect and defend the order.

He was Caro’s protector now, the guardian of her heart. And she was his.

He pressed his lips against her hair, telling her wordlessly of his love.

“What are you thinking?” she murmured.

“How fortunate I am to have you.”

She gave another dreamy sigh and laid her head back on his shoulder.

The sun was setting majestically when they arrived at their secret hideaway, the brilliant, rose-gold rays casting a radiant light that set the jeweled lake ablaze and turned the misting waterfall to molten lava.

Struck by the spellbinding sight, they paused to take in the view of their own special paradise. Then driven by a more corporeal desire, they spurred their mount forward.

Caro saw to the packhorse while Max made brief forays into the grotto to carry supplies and to light the brazier for when they returned later that night. When he joined Caro outside, he found her standing at the entrance, gazing at the incredible sunset.

“This is so beautiful,” she whispered almost reverently.

Max couldn’t refute her. The splendor had the power to make his breath catch. But he shook his head as he wrapped his arms around her from behind. “Not as beautiful as my lovely wife.”

She gave a soft laugh. “Max, you don’t need to shower me with flattery any longer. I know you desire me.”

“But you aren’t yet sufficiently convinced.” He gave her a hard squeeze. “Repeat after me. ‘I am the most alluring woman a man could ever want. Desired and cherished and adored by my wonderful husband.’”

Her laughter rang out, disturbing the quiet hush of their hideaway, but she obeyed, repeating his declaration word for word.

“Not good enough, my sweet temptress,” Max declared. “I still hear a measure of doubt in your tone.” He turned her to face him. “You really
are
extraordinary, you know.”

Smiling, Caro reached up to loop her arms around his neck. “Whether I am or not, I am glad you believe it.”

“I do. And I believe our children will be extraordinary as well.”

She went still, searching his face. “Do you truly want children, Max? I know you couldn’t possibly be anything other than a devoted, caring father, but you will be risking your heart.”

“I realize that, my love. But I am ready for it. I want a family of our own.”

She was mesmerized by the emotions playing in his eyes. “Then give me a child, Max.”

His smile held a quiet brilliance that touched her deep inside. Taking her hand, he led her to their waiting horse.

Night had fallen by the time they reached the Roman ruins, but the moon rose silently above the dark horizon to light their way. They halted at the foot of the baths, drinking in this new scene of spectacular beauty: the calm, shimmering Mediterranean beyond the cliff’s edge. The silver, terraced pools rippling luminously in the night shadows.

To Caro the ruins seemed just as enchanted now as they had over a year ago. More so, since Max was now her husband as well as her lover. But this time the serenity of the ruins matched the serenity she felt in her heart.

Max escorted her up the terraced steps and made a bed of blankets beside the center pool, where they had first known passion together. With the steamy warmth given off by the waters, the night air was pleasantly temperate, but they undressed each other without lingering, eager to be together at last.

While he shed the last of his clothing, Caro slipped beneath the blankets, waiting in an agony of anticipation for his touch. Max roused a wild yearning in her blood, and only he could assuage it. She drank in the raw power of his beautiful, moonlit body before he joined her beneath the covers, and relished his heat as he lay close beside her.

There was a rich, welcoming glow in his eyes as he eased his weight over her. He cupped her breasts in his palms, running his thumbs lightly over her nipples, then bent to kiss the taut peaks.

When she arched against him, he set about exciting her with all the sensual skill he possessed, using his hands, his mouth, his hard body. In only moments her flesh was hot enough to burn.

“Please, Max…now,” she pleaded with him.

“Yes, love, now. I want you sheathing me….”

Willingly she opened to him, wrapping her limbs around him to bring him closer. His hot, tender look held her enthralled as he entered her, while joy whispered through her with heavy urgency.

Max felt the same joy. For a moment he was content to watch the lush sensuality suffuse Caro’s lovely face, but then sensations began to shimmer outward, taking control.

He seized her hips with feverish hands, desperately wanting more of her. His roughly muttered words of love and lust and need were harsh against her lips as they cleaved to each other, shattered together.

It was a long while later before the wondrous ecstasy ebbed away. Max could still feel the ripples caressing him, feel the tremors that flowed through her body as she lay replete beneath him.

Finally easing his weight from her, he lay back and gathered Caro against him, her cheek on his shoulder, her hair a wild tangle across the breadth of his chest.