The Eye of the Wolf (34 page)

He
watched her sleep, carefully running a hand over her hair, holding her hand
when it clutched into the darkness, seeking something or someone. He sang
softly to her to soothe and comfort. And he worried. He remembered the terror
that had filled his heart when the inspector had called the palace with the
information that Dejeune was dead and Mikayla had been found at the scene,
soaked in blood, the blood of the resident historian and preservationist. He
remembered rushing from his father’s office, his eyes wild, heart pounding,
knowing he had to protect her, knowing he had to keep her safe because it
wasn’t possible. She wasn’t the murderer. He knew she wasn’t the murderer, and
he swore to himself, as he watched her restless sleep, that she wouldn’t be
convicted of crimes she hadn’t committed. He would find the perpetrator; the
criminal would pay. Pay for his grandfather’s death. Pay for the pain caused to
this woman that had stolen his heart. Pay for the terror brought to his
peaceful island. Pay for the memories it brought back.

Will
rested his head on their joined hands as she lay peaceful, the early morning
sun just streaming through the windows, tinged in pinks and reds. He took a
deep breath and calmed his rapid breathing. He blinked back tears he hadn’t
known existed and willed calmness to wash over him. There was much to be done
that day; he would need to be in control of his own emotions to handle them. In
his mind, he kept picturing the murder scene, the blood on everything and the
knowledge that Mikayla had lain in the center of it, unconscious until some
unsuspecting tourist had wandered into the museum to discover the two bodies.

Scissors.

Scissors
sticking from the body like twin knives stabbed into a piece of meat.

A
gilded scepter lying nearby; its sharp edge used on the auburn head of the
unsuspecting victim.

The
terrified woman, screaming.

Will
shuddered. He lifted his head and looked into deep blue eyes that reflected
pain, fear, and wonder. He smiled weakly and brushed a kiss over her brow
before speaking, afraid his voice would be absent or tears would choke his
words. He needed to be calm for her; he needed to be there for her, even if she
didn’t want him, even if she didn’t trust him. He would protect her; he would
care for her.

“Hey.”
Was all he said.

Mikayla
smiled meekly up at him as he sat on the edge of the bed and brushed his lips
over her knuckles. His lips were soft, warm, a lover’s caress full of
tenderness. His eyes belied the tenderness his lips portrayed. Inside of them
warred emotions that Mikayla couldn’t comprehend: anger, grief, fear, and love.
This last made her blink with surprise and weep internally knowing that it
wasn’t real. There had been so much anger and hurt; it was impossible that her
own love for him could be returned, now when there was so much to divide them.
“I thought I imagined it.”

Will
brushed hair from her forehead. “Imagined what?” His voice was soft, melodic
British, soothing away the last of the pain in her head but creating a new one
in her heart.

“I
thought I imagined the prince who had come rushing in with his sword drawn to
rescue me from the evil dragon.” She tried for a grin, but it appeared more
like a grimace.

Will
did grin; his eyes sparkled brightly, the anger and grief disappearing, leaving
only the fear and love, with love shining the brightest from the stormy gray
depths. “Hmm, something like Prince Charming in a fairytale, rushing to the aid
of his damsel in distress.”

Mikayla
smiled, a little of her natural brightness shining through. “Something like
that, except I don’t believe in fairytales.” A small laugh escaped her lips
before the groan followed it as she tried to sit up and her head swam. Nausea
swamped her, making her head spin and her gag.

Will
supported her and arranged the pillows behind her while she closed her eyes,
waiting for the sickness to pass. She felt cool liquid on her lips and opened
her eyes to see Will, brow furrowed in concentration, slipping a glass of water
between her lips, cool and refreshing. When she had had her fill, he set the
glass aside and held her hand in his. His eyes watched her carefully until she
smiled at him again.

“What
are you doing here, Will? After the way I treated you, I would expect you to
have stayed as far away as this island would allow.” Mikayla grasped his hand
tighter in her own and pleaded with him to stay with her eyes, even as she
questioned why he was there. She hadn’t realized until that moment, when she
had opened her eyes to find him sitting beside her bed how desperately she had
missed him and how desperately she needed him.

Will
glanced down at their joined hands and held tight. He knew she probably didn’t
want him there, but he also knew he had to be there. He had to stay beside her,
protect her at all costs. She wouldn’t be an innocent victim in the horror that
now gripped the island. They were bound as one; he had known that since she had
first arrived. They were connected to solve the mystery of the Eye of the Wolf,
and they would do so, together.

He
looked back up and saw the pleading in her eyes. Her own need reflecting his.
He sighed deeply and kissed their joined hands. “The inspector called the
palace to tell us that one of our employees had been found dead and a guest of
the royal family had been found with the body. I knew it was you before he even
said your name.” He looked deeply into Mikayla’s eyes, telling her with a look
the words he couldn’t say. “I knew I had to be here with you, especially when
he said that Kankaredes was already here. I had to protect you, Mikayla.”

Mikayla
leaned forward. “What about what he said, Will? What about the fact that I am
their suspect?”

Will
smoothed the hair from her forehead. “I know you, Mikayla, and I know you
didn’t do anything.” He tipped her chin so their eyes were level. “I trust you,
Mikayla.”

With
his eyes on hers, he leaned in and laid his warm lips against hers. There was
no demand in the kiss; it was meant to comfort more than heat, but Mikayla
found that it did both. His fingers traced her jawline, feeling the silk of her
skin beneath his fingertips. A tremor went through her, reminding her of that
first kiss under the stars with soft music playing in the background. That heat
that fisted itself inside of her, a welcome tension that demanded release.

A
soft sigh slipped through her lips into his mouth as her fingers gripped his
shirt holding him in the kiss when he would have pulled away. He found that he
couldn’t pull away from her. He was lost in the sensations that had been denied
him, sensations that he needed more than food and air and water to live. He kept
his kiss tender but wished for more as the heat in her swept over him, warming
him and twisting him into knots. Killing him slowly.

He
eased back. Slowly, he released the breath he hadn’t been aware he had been
holding. He ached to pull her into his arms and love her, tenderly, gently,
like no one had ever loved her before, but he knew that time and place were not
right. It would have to wait.

He
swallowed and smiled. “The doctor released you earlier into my care. I didn’t
want to wake you so I thought I would wait. If you are up to it, I’ll take you
home now.”

Mikayla
nodded and with his help climbed from the bed. It was only then that she
realized she would have nothing to wear. Certainly she couldn’t wear the
hospital gown and she wasn’t going to wear the clothes from the previous day.
The clothes that had been soaked in Dejeune’s blood. At the thought, Mikayla
paled and set a hand on the edge of the bed to steady herself.

Will
watched the color drain from her face and knew she must be thinking of what she
had seen just the day before, of the strange twist her life had taken in the
last day. He reached under the edge of the bag and pulled out the duffle bag
filled with her clothes. “I had a servant bring you a change of clothing from
your house. I can help you change, or if you prefer, I can get you a nurse to
help you.”

Mikayla
looked up at him and then looked at the bag in his hand. Surprise at the tender
gesture flooded her. How had he known what she would feel and need when she was
ready to leave? How had he known that he was the one person who would calm and
comfort, even after the harsh words between them?

Mikayla
pulled the clothes from the bag and changed into the worn blue jeans and the
faded University of Michigan sweatshirt with the hole in the elbow. Comfort
clothes, she mused as she slipped her feet into sandals. Then, she followed him
from the room into the hall, ready to return to the world.

Will
led Mikayla into the bedroom of her sunny beach house and gestured to the large
bed. He set the duffle bag down at the foot of the bed. “You need to rest. I
promised the doctor I would make sure you rested if he would let you come home
with me.” He took her hand and led her to the bed. “Lay down, Mikayla, rest,
please.”

Mikayla
looked from the bed to his face and began to shiver. She gripped her arms to
stop the shivering but found only that the trembling was worse. “I can’t, Will.
I can’t.” Tears clogged her voice and she hugged herself. “I’m so scared.” She
whispered and buried her face in his shirt when his arms wrapped around her,
warm and loving, pulling her close.

He
whispered soft words of comfort, endearments that meant nothing and meant
everything. He eased back and pressed cool lips to her eyes, kissing away tears
that ripped at his heart. She turned her head, meeting his lips with her own,
pulling them both into a kiss that was again meant for comfort but opened those
wants and needs that had never been buried. Will’s hand wound through her hair,
wrapping it around his fingers, silk on rough skin. His tongue dipped between
her lips, gentle encouragement, willing her to open to him, to let him love and
comfort. To get lost in her.

Mikayla’s
lips parted and welcomed him. Her heart beating madly and breathing shallow as
the warmth spread from her toes through her body until she clung weakly to him,
hands fisted in the cotton of his shirt. She welcomed the blindness that
followed as his lips cruised over her neck and face, leaving her weak and
wanting. She willingly lost herself in his scent of fresh air and man, scents
that would always remind her of him even when he was not beside her. His hands
cruised mercilessly over her skin, leaving hot trails where he touched and
caressed.

He
murmured her name when her own hands snaked into his hair and pulled him back
into the kiss. He was lost to her, forever. He needed this, just her, even if
it was for only a moment, only for one night as he protected her.

He laid her carefully on the bed; its satin coverlet
dipping beneath their combined weight, rustling with the soft movements as he
sat beside her, bending into her, drawing her in. Her hands roamed over his
back, kneading the muscles there, slow circles that were killing him. The
hesitant touches were maddening, full of tenderness and strength. Those strong,
capable hands were gentle. Amazing. Her nerves jumped against his own, raising
his temperature, driving him to madness, driving his need just as her own
increased. As his kisses streaked over her face and neck, he reveled in her
shivers and shudders joined with musical sighs of delight.

He wanted to rip the clothes from her body and take
her. He wanted to get lost in this magical moment that was her, but he made his
greedy grasps slow. Enjoy. Tenderness. Her nails dug into his back through his
shirt and were like the sharp edge of the knife, driving through him, pushing
him towards completion. But he wasn’t ready yet. He wanted more than just that
moment. He wanted her to have more than just that moment.

She felt as if she were floating somewhere above her
own body; it was too deliriously wonderful to be real. It was too dazzling to
be anything but a mystical dream that came upon her when she was lost in the
deepest of sleeps. Her eye lids lifted slowly, wondering if it were all a
wonderful dream, but the sensations within her forced her eyes closed again in
pleasure. She moved to kiss him, to return the feelings he aroused within her
and sank into the kiss. Her limbs were heavy and her breath was lost in him as
a moan slid from his lips. Her mind was blank. The only thought was of him and
how glorious he felt beneath her hands.

His hands slowly moved down over her body, gripping
and caressing her curves. He trailed his lips along the curve of her jaw and
down her neck, nestling briefly at the base of her neck, between collarbone and
shirt. A soft moan escaped her lips thrilling him beyond comprehension. Her
fingers, once believed to be delicate, dug into his shoulders, clenching the
damp cotton in her fists.

Carefully, Will pulled the simple cotton shirt over
her head and laid it to the side. Milky white skin turned golden in the dying
afternoon sun. To his hands, her skin was like the finest silk, sliding beneath
him. Her small breasts heaved with her labored breathing. He smiled against her
skin as she murmured his name, music in the peaceful afternoon, waves crashing
outside the window.

Mikayla gripped his shoulders as he trailed his
tongue along her body leaving a trail of fire. She streaked her hands beneath
his cotton shirt and dug her nails into his back making him exhale one short
breath and grin against her skin. She pulled her hands from beneath his shirt
and tugged. He allowed her to pull it from his body and throw it, lost in the
room. Her hands cruised over his tanned chest. Fingers followed each line of
finely toned muscle. She pulled him down to her and kissed him long and deep,
losing herself in his taste, in the moment.