Enchanted by Your Kisses (34 page)

"He could still be alive," Ariel said, moving her horse alongside his.

But he wouldn't meet her gaze. "He could be dead, too."

She shook her head. "No. I do not think so."

But he didn't look interested in arguing the point. She watched as his hands clenched even tighter, his fingernails digging into his palm.

"We will find him, Nathan. I promise."

"How?" he asked, finally meeting her gaze. "Hire a sloop? Chase after him on an ocean that leaves no trail?"

"That is one possibility."

"Do not be absurd. We would sooner find a needle in a haystack."

Something inside her cringed at his raised voice, something that made her feel both hurt and sick at the same time.

"Nathan," she began again, "we can at least try. I am the First Lord's daughter. Surely there is something I can do."

"Yea, just as you've done already."

His words stabbed at her with hurt. She watched as he clucked his horse forward, stopping in front of an inn a few muddy blocks later. Ariel followed, feeling helpless and hurt and so sorry for him she could barely think.

"What are we doing?"

"Securing rooms for the night."

"Should we not ride back to
London
?"

"No. My best chance of finding
Wess
starts here."

His
best chance. So he didn't want her help anymore.

"Nathan, please—"

He refused to look at her, just entered the building. Not even as he talked to the innkeeper did he pay her heed. Not even as they climbed the stairs. Instead he gave her a key, turned and entered his own room, slamming the door behind him.

Ariel stared at the scarred oak door, wondering what to do.

Leave him be, Ariel. He needs time.

But she didn't want to leave him alone, she wanted. . .

What?

To comfort him. She wanted to comfort him.

She went to his door, stared at it, knowing what she did might change her life forever. She lifted her hand, only to drop it back to her side again. Fiddlesticks. He would not welcome her attention. She knew this, yet she lifted her hand again, only this time she knocked.

No answer.

Almost she gave up. Almost. But that same perverse desire that made her want to comfort him, that same emotion that made her care when she knew she shouldn't made her lift her hand again, and when he didn't answer a second time, to try the handle.

The door opened.

"What are you doing?" he snapped, turning to face her.

He stood by the window on the opposite side of the room, a fireplace to her left, the bed opposite. Nathan stared at her, his face as rigid as the hardwood floor.

"We should talk."

"There is nothing to say."

"I want to help."

"Help? Haven't you helped me enough?"

He said it as if his brother's disappearance was all her fault. She swallowed back a pinch of hurt. He felt wounded. Aching over the loss of his brother. She knew this. If only she could convince him of the fact that
Wess
Trevain
was not dead, not yet.

"Nathan, please. Try and believe me when I say—"

"No, Ariel. I will not listen. Leave." He swung away from her, his queue swishing angrily, his scar more pronounced as he turned toward the window.

She followed him, knowing it was tantamount to cornering a wolf in his den, but determined to do so anyway. "Nathan, please," she tried again, stepping around in front of him, her words dying in her throat.

He cried.

No. Not cried. A single tear made its way down his cheek, but for a man like Nathan
Trevain
, it was as good as a bucketful of sobs.

Men like Nathan
Trevain
did not cry. They blustered. They yelled. They did not cry.

"Oh, Nathan," she soothed, placing her hand against his jaw, just like he always did to her when she was upset. Something inside her shifted as she stared up at him, something that made her feel breathless and frightened. She looked into his silver eyes, eyes that had stared at her with so many emotions in the past. Loathing. Anger. Gratitude. Now they simply looked down at her with sadness and resignation.

"Leave, Ariel."

She shook her head. "You need me."

"I need no one."

"
Shh
," she soothed, touching his lips with her hands. "Just
shh
." She slipped into his arms, expecting him to thrust her away.

I love you,
she thought.
I love you Nathan
Trevain
. Don't push me away.

She pulled back before he could, stunned. Her eyes searched his intently.

And she knew.

She knew with an absolute certainty that the words were true.

Somehow, amazingly, she'd fallen in love with the man. It didn't matter that he'd kidnapped her. It didn't matter that he'd tried to use her. He was as different from Archie as sun was from rain, his motivation for doing as he did one Ariel wholly understood.

"Nathan," she hoarsely, a throat full of tears suddenly choking her. She reached up again, stroked his cheek.

He didn't move, his silver eyes staring into hers.

"Kiss me."

"No."

"Yes," she contradicted him. "Let me help you forget." She lifted herself up on tiptoe, drawing his head down, forcing him to do as she asked. He didn't move at first. She nibbled at his lip, sucking on it.

"
Demme
," he moaned, trying to push her away. But she wouldn't let him. Instead she held him tighter, her lips working his own more fervently. She thought he might turn away from her then, thought he might pull back. Instead he suddenly jerked her to him. Ariel gasped at the suddenness of it. His tongue plunged into her mouth.

Yes,
she thought. Yes. This was it. This was what she sought. The way he angled his mouth just perfectly. The way he smelled. Why hadn't she realized it before? She wanted to taste him. Wanted to feel his tongue inside her mouth. Wanted to suck in the essence of him as he did her.

"Ariel," he said, cupping the back of her head, his hands warm against her scalp. She tilted her head into those hands, the gold from his ring cold against her cheek. She let him kiss her deeper and then deeper still. Blood rushed to places that suddenly warmed, then began to burn. She knew the feeling, had been kissed enough times to know that the feeling promised something else, something wonderful, and that she wanted.

And then he pulled back, both of them gasping for breath in the wake of their passion.

"Ariel," he moaned again, staring down at her a second before kissing her again, but not on the lips. On the cheek, then on the forehead. She sighed in relief, having thought he might stop, but he didn't stop. Oh, no. He began to kiss her in a whole new way, biting, teasing kisses. On the temple. The line of her jaw. In places she'd never been kissed before.

"Oh, Nathan," she answered back.

His hands moved away from the back of her head to her cloak, parting it, his fingers slipping beneath it to flick it off her shoulders as he continued to kiss her, only now he kissed her neck. Oh, gracious heavens. Her neck. Her vision blurred, the world slipping away at the dizzying feel of his lips sucking at her flesh. Heavens, she didn't want it to stop. Didn't want the feelings that began to build inside her to end. She wanted. . .she wanted. . .

What?

Gracious, she didn't know, only knew she didn't want to stop being enchanted by his kisses. Ever. And then he shifted, air cooling the wetness where his lips had just been. She felt reality begin to return, only to fall away again as his mouth found her ear. She closed her eyes, groaning at the feel of his tongue.

"Ariel," he breathed, pulling back. "I want you. And if you do not leave, I will have you."

"Then have me."

"No. Not tonight."

"Yes, tonight," she answered, boldly touching his white shirt. She felt him tense beneath her hands. "I want this, Nathan. More than I've ever wanted anything in my life."

I love you,
she silently added, more certain of it now than ever. She loved him, there was simply no use denying the way he made her feel. She loved him more than she'd ever thought it possible to love a man who had treated her thus. She'd loved him for asking for her help. She loved him for trusting her right back. But most of all, she loved him because he stood here kissing her, loving her, even though she must seem more an enemy tonight then ever before.

"Why are you crying?"

Was she? She hadn't even realized. "I'm crying for you, Nathan," she said softly, touching his cheek again. "I'm crying because I know you must think your brother lost. But he isn't. I promise you this. We will find him. You need only believe."

He stared down at her, his silver eyes so beautiful. "Show me how to believe, Ariel. Show me."

She knew what he meant, though she didn't know how to do as he asked. "Kiss me, Nathan."

He didn't immediately. Ariel never looked away as he weighed his decision in his mind, and she could tell that he weighed one.

"We shall both regret this."

"No," she answered. "Never."

And then he did kiss her, only this time there was a frantic edge to his touch. His hands fumbled at her shirt. Ariel did the same to his shirt. She pulled on the fabric, Nathan doing the same. He undressed her. Ariel knew they were approaching the point of no return yet wanted what lay beyond that point with a desire such as she'd never craved. He ducked down, letting her tug off his shirt. She held still as he pulled her own shirt loose. They both paused at the binding that covered her breasts, and then a new rhythm began. A slow one. His hands lifted bit by bit, his gaze never leaving her own, as he gently, seductively began to unwind the fabric.

"Lift your arms."

Ariel did, she closed her eyes. She felt each brush of his fingers, each tug on the fabric, until at last she knew only one layer remained.

"Do you want me to stop?"

It was the last time he would ask her that question. She knew this. Now or never.

"Don't stop," she breathed.

He tugged on the fabric. Her breasts sprang free. She heard him gasp, though she might have been imagining it, but then he said, "God, but you're beautiful."

She stared up at him, for the first time seeing herself with his eyes. "I feel beautiful," she answered.

And she was, Nathan realized. More beautiful than he'd ever thought it possible for a woman to be. Her skin was as white as sunlight on pure silk, her shape as perfect as God ever intended it to be, and he wanted. . .how he wanted. . .Thoughts of his brother faded. He allowed himself to get swept up in the smell of her, the taste of her, the feel of her, the enchantment of her.

He reached out a hand, touching the top of her breasts, then dipped lower, finding her nipple.

"Nathan," he heard her moan.