Jennifer Horseman (43 page)

For Garrett knew the nightmare she had witnessed.

She slowly shook her head as he came around the side of the bed, too terrified by this nightmare to do anything more than say, "No . . . Garrett — "

"Yes, love. Yes. I'll never let him have you. . . . Never."

"Twas only a dream! A dream!"

"Nay, not a dream ... a prophecy."

The torrent of her pounding blood sounded loud in her ears. Her senses heightened with unnatural intensity, though fear drained her strength and she could do nothing more than weakly shake her head as he lifted her up under her arms, so that she knelt on the bed before him. Held against his body, she felt each rise of his chest, the encasement of hard muscles above his hard, flat stomach, the threatening blade of his desire. "You are mine, Juliet. Mine."

The whispered pronouncement came with a blast of emotion. A hand caught her hair while the other held her still as he silenced her denial with the force of his lips. Her entire being rose to fight him, those words, the prophecy of that nightmare. Her clenched fists pushed against him with all her strength, but he might not have ever known as his mouth covered hers, demanding, his tongue sliding over her teeth before pushing through, and still she tried to fight—

Until the world burst into a sea of hot, shimmering colors and she was sinking, sinking, laid to the soft cushion of pillows as he came over her. He kept her trapped in his arms. The heat of his body came as a burning shock and her breaths raced, faster still as his muscled thigh pressed intimately between her legs, sending warm licks of flame rippling through her.

He drew back a bit to draw a gasping breath himself. "Nothing will separate us ... nothing," he said in a whisper as he reached down to pull her nightgown up over her hips and breasts and head; yet he left it gathered around her arms. The heat of his gaze followed the cool caress of night air and she whispered his name, an evocation or a plea, she couldn't know, as his warm, firm lips lightly grazed her flushed cheeks and closed eyes.

"God, girl, I need you ... I need you as I need the air I draw into my body, more . . . even more. Let me have you, love ... let me," he whispered against her ear, gently biting the sensitive lobe. A rush of shivers raced from the spot. Confused, still she tried to escape it, she turned her head into the loosened waves of her hair. Catching her chin, he offered her a deep sensuous kiss, deepening until she was damp and helpless, no longer struggling against the warm pressure of his body.

She couldn't struggle or fight him, his desire, though part of her mind was saying over and over again, no, this was not really happening . . . this could not be happening. Yet even that brief thought ceased altogether as he broke the kiss to let his lips slide to the arch of her throat, the palm of his hand rotating light as a feather over the rose tip of her breast. Chills exploded through her, her heart pounded in the depth of her being as he made her say his name over and over.

"I want you . . . God, how I want you girl ... I want to fill you, to dissolve your will beneath my own . . . always and forever," he whispered as she felt his mouth seek and find the other breast, rocking back and forth over the nipple, drawing hard until it grew taut and large. She threw her head back and forth and cried softly under the onslaught of whirling colors and sensations, all of them, the hard, waiting pressure of his body,hishandsliding overhersilken belly,moving lower and lower with slow circular movements until she was trembling and ablaze by turns, until she was hot and flushed and breathless, mindless with the warm pulsating pleasure he orchestrated.

In the dark hours of the night, the place where dreams and reality merge, he owned her will and made her his again, carrying her on the wings of wild, untamed passion. Wings that carried her to the very peak of ecstasy, where he watched as wave after wave of shimmering pleasure peaked and fell away, only to rise shimmering again, higher and higher until the ecstasy burst in one fiery explosion that carried him in a triumphant last victory.

She felt herself sinking then, sinking, teetering between oblivion and life, only vaguely aware of his lips on her forehead, a tender atonement or good-bye. The gown came over her love-soaked form. The great warmth left all at once, but his hand was entwined in hers and he said, "You were right after all. It was only a dream, Juliet, only a dream. . . ."

A dream ... A dream filling with the images of her uncle, the terror of those days and her mother crying over the broken chain of their hair. "Forgive me my darling . . . forgive me. . . ." Tomas appeared to comfort her, and she started toward him but her legs wouldn't move. Tonali hissed and she looked down to see his tail wrapped around her feet like a chain. "I'll never let him have you. . . . Never ..."

Juliet woke to a cold, grey morning. She looked dazedly from one corner to the other in the quiet room. The curtains fluttered in the cool breeze. Her heart quickly escalated and her breathing quickened. "It was only a dream ... a dream." She wanted desperately to believe that. If only he had no magic that let him come in the dark dead of the night when she had no defense, not the will of the waking state or even the redemption of being able to accuse him. If only his will did not seem to change the very shape of reality. "I want you

. . . always and forever. . . ."

The knowledge made her tremble, and in her desperation she said his name over and over again. "Tomas . . . Tomas . . . Tomas," his name was her only reassurance, a reassurance paired with the thought that it would all be over. Today it would be over, over forever. She would never see Garrett again. Never, if she could just survive these next few hours. She thought of all she had been through, everything; her life ran before her in a quick succession of painful pictures. If she had survived this far, then she could survive the next few hours.

She rose shakily. Take a bath and get dressed, she gave herself the simple instructions as she moved through the room to the dressing room, stopping in front of the vanity glass. She stared at the tousled mess of her hair, the small marks on her flushed skin, but her horror came as her wide, frightened eyes rested their gaze on the wrinkled gown.

Where she saw small splattered spots of blood.

"A fag for his lordship!"

Garrett held up his hand and the footman stopped. "Nay."

Juliet was not aware of the people staring at Garrett and his small party as they waited out side the steps of the Connaught. The stares were provoked less by the knowledge of his name and title than by his unconventional height, the natural ease and grace of his movements, and the supreme aristocratic air surrounding him, an air accented by the rich, expensive clothes he wore: tall, shiny black boots, the fine grey riding pants and loose-fitting white silk shirt, a heavy black cape parting slightly to reveal a thick grey wool lining beneath. She stood perfectly still at his side, wondering only how the passion of the night contrasted with the cold withdrawal of his emotion now, wondering at how badly it hurt, how badly his magicand passion alwayshurt her.

Please, God, no more. . . .

Tomas, save me from him. . . .

Garrett led Juliet to the waiting mount as they were brought around, Leif behind him. The inn's staff gathered just inside the doors, watching the proceedings with a mixture of horror and fascination as Garrett mounted a stallion, letting the mount dance a bit before reining him into control. Leif reached gloved hands around the lady and lifted her onto Garrett's saddle in front. Gar-rett's arms circled her as he checked his mount, then waited for Leif.

" 'Is lordship '11 'ave the lady ride the saddle!"

"Just like the olden days. I'll be damned," a footman said excitedly as Garrett tossed his cloak back, revealing the worn leather shoulder harness and two ivory-handled pistols. "That ought ta make some thief very sorry indeed."

"Why, I never-"

"Aye, but the- lady looks like she belongs there, doesn't she? As if riding a stallion with his lordship is an everyday thing."

"What are they doing now?"

Kyle came running with two saddlebags, followed on each side by another man, armed with a musket. The saddlebags were secured to the mount.

"Looks like money bags, doesn't it?"

"Aye, it does indeed."

"Look! She's kissin' the Scots boy."

Garrett kept the horse in check and held her as Juliet leaned over and said a fare thee well to Gayle. A tender exchange, until she promised to write him soon. He seemed first surprised, then anxious, as if at a loss.

"Gayle?"

He shook his head again and looked away, yet kept her hand in his. Juliet misunderstood the fear in his eyes as he clasped her hand tightly, afraid to let her go—just as she misunderstood Garrett's impatience, the barrier he put over his emotions, for she could not survive the full force of his anger and he knew well to keep it from her now. Once Leif mounted alongside, Garrett tapped his booted foot to the stallion's side and they were off.

With his eyes closed, Tomas heard the horses' hooves and he jumped up. Garrett rode into the glen with Juliet. The pirate leered, grinning wickedly until the moment he saw the pistol in Tomas's hands. "Get off the horse!" Tomas said. "Now."

Garrett slowly dismounted, staring at the pistol, his fear increasing with every step Tomas took toward him. "Juliet, this is for you," Tomas said, as he swung the pistol hard into Garrett's face. Garrett stumbled backward but Tomas was on him again. Again and again he raised the pistol, slamming it into the pirate's face until it was nothing but a bloody pulp and the man fell back unconscious. Then Tomas stepped back and raised the pistol. "Open your eyes!" For several tense moments Garrett struggled to do as he was told. The swollen lids opened to his last sight on earth.

"No . . . no," Garrett said his last words before Tomas pulled the trigger, shooting twice point blank into the dead center of his chest. . . .

Tomas imagined the scene a hundred times. If only he could. Yet fear kept putting the rum cask to his cold lips as he waited. The cheap rum did little to warm his insides against the cold chill of grey overcast skies on this day he had so long awaited. The reunion had been made for noon and he had waited here in the small glen near the university chapel since the ninth bell, nearly three hours now. He had waited alone, just as the note stipulated. The rum had done nothing to ease his fear but plenty to numb the anxious train of his thoughts.

He looked past the leafy maple trees to the grey sky above and closed his eyes again. His fear went in many directions. He felt a gross fear of the man Black Garrett, of seeing this nightmare in real life. What would he do and what would he say? How would the desire—nay, the need-to kill the man manifest itself? If only he were strong and courageous enough to shoot him! To make him pay for all he had put him through. . . .

Once outside of London, Garrett pushed the stallion to a gallop. His arms held Juliet as his body braced hers against the jostle. The wind whipped across her face and the landscape flew past, blurred patches of green upon green, brief thickets of bush and maple trees, occasional houses and farms. The great blanket of his warmth enclosed her, even as she felt his anger, as if he wanted to hurt her. There was nothing he could do now, nothing, she told herself over and over, letting the thought take hold as she closed her eyes. Using all her strength, she forced her emotions back to a safe place where he could not touch them.

Just a short while longer . . .

Garrett reined the stallion in, quickly putting the beast through its paces, slowing the trot to a fast walk for her comfort as they turned off the main road. Leif reined his mount in at their side. She opened her eyes. Maple trees lined both sides of the deserted well-kept road. A stone chapel rose in the distance at the end.

This must be the meeting place!

Tension and fear shot through her as she frantically searched through the trees for Tomas. Her heartbeat escalated and her breaths quickened, keeping her ignorant of the steely tension rising in the arms that still held her.

"Over there," Leif pointed through the trees.

Garrett turned the mount and braced. Using the great force of his will, he braced as Juliet's eyes flew in the direction. She took in the sight with a small pained gasp—joy and relief—emotions edged with a desperation that went through him like the cold steel blade of a knife.

Tomas stood against a large grey boulder, a rock that matched the sky overhead perfectly, and as the mount drew closer she took in everything: the crown of blonde curls, the wool coat he wore, brown breeches and boots, the pain and fear in his grey eyes as he saw her. Garrett heard the strained whisper of her voice call, "Tomas!" as she tried to slip off the mount before it stopped. Gloved hands came around her waist, lowering her small weight to the ground. Her feet touched the soft brown earth, but Garrett held her still, unable to set her free at last.

So taken with the sight in front of her, it took Juliet a long moment to realize his hands still encased her waist. She pushed against them with a pained, "Oh please!"

Watching, Leif quickly pushed his mount to Garrett's side. The weight of Leifs hand on his shoulder made him release her. Once free, she ran through the clearing to where Tomas stood, and Garrett forced himself to watch her fall into the young man's open arms. As he had forced himself to imagine it over and over in preparation of actually seeing it. Still, the sight was a rude awakening to a violence he had never before felt.

"Civilization is a thin veneer, indeed," Leif swore softly, seeing Garrett's struggle. "Will I, dear God, have to stop you from spilling the boy's blood?"

"A comforting thought," Garrett said, "that is, my dearest friend, if you could stop me."

Tomas held Juliet tightly and she clung to him desperately as the final climax of these last long months told her everything, everything. He still loved her, he always had and always would love her, and nothing, not even Garrett, could change that. "Oh Tomas, how I've longed for this moment!"