Creole Fires (26 page)

Nervously, she wet her lips. “Alex, I—”

“I’ll deal with you when I get back.” His hard look sent a shiver down Nicki’s spine. With his jaw set and his mouth grim, he turned and headed out the door.

Nicki raced after him. She opened the door enough to look out, and peered through the crack. Hearing Alex’s voice in the taproom below, she inched toward the rail until she could see him striding toward the Frenchman.

“Merde,”
the innkeeper swore just as Alex grabbed the front of his shirt. One-handed, he yanked the big, bearded man across the bar and punched him hard in the mouth, drawing a stream of blood. A second blow sent him stumbling backward, crashing into the
rough wooden benches and knocking over tables. None of the men in the tavern made the slightest move to help him.

Growling low in his throat, the Frenchman charged. Alex sidestepped a skull-crushing blow, and punched him two more times. The man flew back against the wall, landing with a loud crack that snapped his head back. His eyes fluttered closed, and he slid down the wall.

When Alex turned toward the stairs, Nicki sucked in a breath. Never had she seen his eyes so dark, his features so angry. His mouth was a thin grim line, and a muscle bunched in his jaw. He spotted her and flames seemed to leap in his eyes. Nicki squealed and raced back into her room, locking the door behind her.

Alex turned the handle, found it locked, and, cursing, inserted the key he still carried in his pocket. He entered the room to find Nicki standing in the middle, her feet splayed, both hands gripping the pistol she pointed in his direction.

“I—I don’t want to hurt you, Alex. I really appreciate your help, but I’m not going back with you.”

He had never seen her this way, so wild, so pagan. Her hair gleamed like flames in the lamplight, her breasts heaved in the open front of her nightshirt, her nipples were rosy. Her eyes glistened with spirit and determination.

“Put that down,” he commanded, moving nearer.

“I’m not going back.”

“You have nowhere else to go.”

“I’ll find somewhere else.”

One step closer, one deft movement, and Alex wrenched the pistol from her hand, accidently discharging
the hammer. The gunshot echoed across the small room, knocking chips of wood from the ceiling above their heads. As Nicki backed away cursing, Alex examined the weapon more closely, the barrel still warm and smoking. One dark brow went up. He’d expected her to have a pistol—his pistol—but this gun wasn’t his.

“Where did you get this?” he asked, fixing her with a gaze so hard she blanched.

“Well, I …”

“I’m waiting,” he prodded.

“I—well—I …” She ran her tongue across her soft pink lips, reminding him that only moments before another man had been plundering their sweetness—reminding him of the danger she had been in.

“We both know what a very poor liar you are,” he said coldly, his temper straining at the tight leash he held on it.

Nicki squared her shoulders and lifted her chin, meeting his hard look squarely. “I fired the pistol I borrowed from you. Since I needed another, I took it from the man I shot.”

“The man you shot?” He couldn’t quite believe his ears.

“Yes. He was trying to rob me. I needed every cent I had, so I shot him. In self-defense, of course. He was trying to attack me.”

“Sacrebleu
, that’s it. That is all I can stand.” Two long strides and he swept her up in his arms. Ignoring her flailing fists and salty protests, he carried her to the bed and sat down on the edge. Nicki found herself draped across his knees, his hard thighs pressing into her stomach.

“Let me go!” she shrieked, squirming against his efforts to pin her down.

“Twice Tve let you off easy when I should have given you the thrashing you deserve.” He hoisted her torn nightgown, exposing her smooth, round bottom.

“Stop it, Alexandrei Don’t you dare!”

But he did dare. All her squirming and all her efforts to evade his stinging palm were to no avail.
Whack, whack, whack
, his big hand came down, searing her tender flesh.

“Damn you!” she swore.

“You run from me when I try to take care of you!”
Whack, whack, whack.
“You put yourself in danger, time and time again. I won’t have it!”

“I won’t be your whore!”

One last sound smack and he jerked her to her feet. Tears of anger stained her cheeks, but she didn’t look away.

“Understand this, Nicki, and understand it now. You are a bond servant. My bond servant. Where I tell you to go, you go. What I tell you to do, you do.” He tightened his grip on her arm. “From now on you will bow to my wishes. Do I make myself clear?”

Nicki set her jaw.

Alex shook her. “Do I make myself clear?”

“Quite clear, your grace,” she said through clenched teeth. “But be forewarned. You may own my body, but you don’t own my soul.”

Eyes still dark with anger, he picked her up and tossed her onto the bed. Ignoring the vile expression she cast his way, he strode to the door and jerked it open, slamming it behind him so hard the window rattled.

Bastard, she swore. Dominating, infuriating—bastard!
She rubbed her bottom through the folds of her nightgown. Though her flesh still burned like the fires of Hades, he hadn’t given her the beating she’d half expected. She would never forget the blows he had rained on the man he’d found in her bed, or the swift, hard justice he’d delivered to the innkeeper, a man of powerful proportions himself.

Apparently he believed in restraint when dealing with a woman. Not like the others she had known. Not like Armand Laurent, or the guards at the prison. She wondered if in truth he hadn’t acted partly out of worry for her. By nature, Alex was protective of the people in his care—and he definitely considered her his.

Listening to every passing sound, Nicki crawled between the blankets and fluffed her threadbare pillow. Where had Alex gone? she wondered, then prayed he wouldn’t return until morning. It wasn’t long before she heard his heavy footfalls, then the door opened and he stepped inside, his saddlebags slung over one wide, muscular shoulder.

Feigning sleep, she watched him from beneath her thick dark lashes as he tossed the bags carelessly onto the bureau. With only a brief glance her way, he sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled off his tall black boots, letting them fall to the floor with a heavy thud. He tugged his shirt free of his breeches and shrugged it off. When she heard the sound of fabric sliding down his muscular thighs, Nicki sat bolt upright.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“Getting ready for bed.” He didn’t bother to glance her way.

“Not this bed,” she told him.

“Exactly this bed.”

“Then I’ll sleep on the floor.” Grabbing one of the blankets, she started to rise, but Alex towered above her in an instant, his grip on her arm tight with warning.

“Get back in bed.” The darkness in his eyes confirmed that his anger had little abated. One look at his muscular body, and the arousal she had already stirred, proclaimed his intentions.

“I won’t let you touch me. I’ll fight you every inch of the way.”

His mouth curved into a mocking half smile. “You’re mine,
chérie.
Tonight I intend to prove it.”

“You’re wrong, Alex.” Nicki backed away.

His jaw tightened. “Your soldier said you wanted it rough. It appears he was right after all. You want it rough. Then that’s the way you shall have it.”

“He wasn’t my soldier,” she said with growing alarm. “I’ve never seen the man before.”

“That,
chérie
, is most fortunate for both of you.”

Watching the rise and fall of Alex’s broad chest, the angry set to his features, the hands he clenched at his side, Nicki felt a coil of the old familiar fear. She had only experienced their one encounter, only known what it felt like to be taken with gentleness and compassion. Still, she was not a coward. Not anymore.

Jerking free, she scrambled from the bed and raced to the bureau. Grabbing the first object she saw—her silver-backed hairbrush—she hurled it at Alex, striking him viciously on the cheek. He growled low in his throat and dived for her. By inches, she darted away.

Her fingers curled around the handle of the pitcher, half full of water. She hurled it at him with all her might, but he ducked, and it smashed against
the floor, spilling water everywhere. The basin flew past the side of his head to shatter against the wall behind him.

Alex was grinning now, enjoying the game, it seemed. “So,
chérie
, as I’ve long suspected, my sweet little minx is a fiery-tempered vixen after all.”

“Get away from me!” She dodged him by climbing across the bed. “I hate you!”

“We shall see,
mon amoureuse
, we shall see.” With a quick turn and step, Alex wrapped an arm around her waist and pinned her body solidly against his. Fists flying, trying to bite him, she fought until her muscles ached and her strength began to ebb. Still, he held her fast.

With his free hand, he caught the front of her nightgown and tore it away. A second rending tear, and she stood naked, forced along the muscular length of him, feeling his hardened shaft where it pressed against her flesh. In the eerie glow of the lamplight, his eyes seemed to glitter with anticipation, while his mouth looked hard and unyielding.

Nicki started to tremble, for the first time genuinely afraid. He would rape her now. Hurt her and make her forget the beauty of the night they had shared on their pallet before the fire.

Alex pulled her roughly down on the bed, and the image of the guards rose up before her. She could hear the sound of their fists pounding against flesh, hear the women screaming. One man laughed as he forced a woman’s legs apart and thrust himself into her.

Nicki moved her head back and forth from side to side, trying to deny what was happening, trying to still her mounting fears. She felt warm hands on her
breasts, but saw only the mocking face of the guard, expected any moment to feel his fingers plunging inside her, tearing her apart, then his member thrusting into her body while she cried out in pain.

Tears welled and trickled down her cheeks. “Please,” she whispered. “Please don’t hurt me.”

Alex’s movements stilled. His breath seemed frozen, caught somewhere in his chest. His hold on her gentled, became the merest touch of his hand. “Never,” he said softly. “Never.” He pulled her into his arms, one hand sinking into her hair while the other cradled her against him, holding her as if he’d never let her go.

“It’s all right,” he soothed. “I wouldn’t hurt you. I would have loved you. But I would never have hurt you.”

She looked up at him and saw that he was telling the truth. She clutched him tighter and didn’t ask herself why.

“I was so worried,” he said, smoothing back her tangled mass of hair. “So afraid you’d be hurt.”

She drew back to look at him. “I could have made it, Alex, I could have. You must let me go.”

He cupped her face between his palms, his eyes searching hers, willing her to understand. “I can’t,” he said softly. “I can’t let you go.”

Then he kissed her, a kiss so filled with yearning, so loving and tender that Nicki opened to it. She couldn’t deny him, couldn’t turn him away. Her tongue touched his, tangled with it, then slid inside his mouth. Her arms went around his thick neck.

With a soft groan, Alex pulled her closer, deepening the kiss, thrusting his tongue into her mouth while his hands smoothed over her body. He cupped
a breast with one wide palm, then lowered his mouth and claimed it, his tongue laving, teasing white-hot flames that seared her from the inside out. He moved lower, his mouth trailing kisses along her body, his tongue delving into her navel. His hand skimmed along her flesh to cup her bottom and bring her closer.

She gasped as the heat of his hand touched the fire that still pained her there. Alex lifted his head, but didn’t speak. Just bent over her and began to apply soft, sweet kisses across her stinging flesh. Each place his lips brushed felt soothed. He kissed her until he’d covered every inch he had pinkened with his hand. Then his fingers caressed where his mouth had been, slipped between her legs, and began to stroke the creaminess that his soothing touch had wrought.

Nicki moaned softly at each practiced stroke of his fingers. She rolled to face him, and he continued to caress her, his mouth returning to her lips, his kiss so deep and exciting she could think of nothing but the feel of him inside her, longed to know the length and breadth of him, wanted the surge of raw wonder and beauty only his passion could give.

Alex rose above her, as if he knew her thoughts. His shaft pressed against her, sought the wet warmth of her passage, and slid inside. He felt hot and hard and pulsing, so huge he filled her until she seemed a part of him. Surging up, he drove into her with a need she hadn’t seen in him before.

She returned each thrust with equal abandon, lifting her hips to him, her muscles expanding and contracting, drawing him farther inside. She could feel it building then, that strange surge of pleasure she’d known before.

“Alex?” she whispered, clutching his neck.

“Let it come,
chérie.”

And it did. A rising wave of passion that swelled and rippled with beauty and awe, then flooded her with a pleasure so intense she was certain to die of it.

Alex felt her contractions, felt her muscles bunching, sucking him inside her so deep he thought he might drown. His own body tensed as he pounded into her, riding her like some fiery, tempestuous force. He couldn’t remember if he called her name out loud or only in his mind. He denied the words that followed, for surely they were just a man’s passions speaking of the pleasure in his loins.

In moments they lay spent and entwined, but he didn’t pull away. He couldn’t bear the thought of being apart from her so soon. Not after all his worry. Not after his fears.

Eventually, they slept, until a sound in the night awoke him and he realized he wanted her again. He took her more leisurely this time, bringing her to climax gently, following in her wake, then both of them drifting back to sleep. When he awoke in the morning, sunlight streaming in across his naked chest, he found her already up and dressed. He did a poor job of hiding his disappointment—since it crested beneath his blanket.