“Like what?”

  “Like I’m going to eat you alive. You’re safe from my nefarious clutches tonight.”

  “You mean you’re releasing me from our stupid bargain?”

  The eagerness in her voice made him smile. “Not a chance, my love. Our bargain stands. But I wouldn’t complete it here, even if you were begging me.”

  “Your kindness and nobility astound me.”

  He grinned at her withering sarcasm. “Nothing to do with kindness. As delightful as a roll in the pine needles would be, I think we should hold out for a nice comfortable bed.”

  Her flush was charming. She took another long gulp of the drink and breathed in at the same time, which started an unladylike fit of spluttering. He shot her a knowing glance and carried on eating. “Sit down. The rabbit’s ready.”

  He ripped the carcass apart and handed her a portion.

  She sunk her small even teeth into the meat, closed her eyes, and heaved a blissful sigh. “Ohhh. That tastes heavenly!”

  Alessandro barely suppressed a moan of his own. Heavenly was the word. She had no idea how provocative he found her. Thank God. He adjusted the uncomfortable bulge in the front of his breeches, grateful for the concealing darkness.

  They settled into a companionable silence for a few minutes, but as soon as the meal was finished he watched the wariness reappear in her eyes. He rose and cleared away the food, packing everything away in the saddlebags. So many years as a soldier had ingrained in him the need to be ready to leave at the slightest notice. He checked Saraceno’s tether then padded back to the fire, kicking the embers back to life with his boot.

  She was pale, with shadows under her eyes. The poor little thing was tired out. In fact, he’d wager the only thing still keeping her upright was stubborn determination. She reminded him of his new recruits after their first taste of battle, numb with exhaustion but desperately trying to appear unaffected.

  A wave of tenderness washed over him. He wanted to gather her in his arms and hold her as she slept. “Time to get some sleep. Relax, I won’t touch you tonight, on my honor.”

  “Is that supposed to reassure me? You don’t have any honor, del Sarto.”

  “Fine. On my life, then. How’s that?”

  “It’ll do,” she sniffed. “Not that it’s worth much, either. Now if you don’t mind, I’d like a few moments of privacy.”

  She picked up the small bundle of her belongings and Alessandro frowned, realizing he’d have to let her out of his sight.

  “Go ahead. There’s a small stream just over there, behind those trees. Enough to wash in, anyway. Just don’t forget the boars,” he called after her. “And the wolves. Great big, hungry, fearsome wolves.”

  Cara breathed a sigh of relief as she ducked behind a tree, glad to be out from under his penetrating gaze. She was fairly certain the only thing remotely wolf-like in the vicinity was him.

  Pale moonbeams barely penetrated the canopy of leaves above her head and ominous rustling sounds took on new significance. Terrified that he would come looking for her if she took too long, she washed her hands in the trickle of water then unrolled the bundle of things she’d brought from San Rocco. The small glass vial containing the sleeping draught she’d made fell into her hand. If she could find a way to slip it into the wine she might still escape him yet.

  She returned to the clearing. He’d unrolled a blanket next to the fire and sprawled at his ease, propped on one elbow, using the saddle as a pillow. He looked like a Roman senator after an orgy, the very image of relaxed animal power.

  “Only one blanket, I’m afraid.” He crooked a finger at her, beckoning her forward. “We’ll have to use my cloak to cover us.”

  “How cozy.”

  “And here I was, thinking you’d admire my chivalry in offering to share.”

  “If you were truly chivalrous you’d give it to me and sleep without it.”

  He slanted her an enigmatic smile. “Give me your wrist.”

  “Why?”

  He picked up a thin skein of rope from his side. “So I can tie it to mine.”

  She rolled her eyes. “I swear I won’t try to escape.”

  “Forgive me if I doubt you,” he said. “I’m cautious, if not chivalric. It’s what’s kept me alive all these years.” His unwavering gaze assured her that obedience was the only option.

  Cara shrugged. She had her dagger in her boot—she could cut the rope if she wanted—but she was too tired to try to escape tonight. She would try to drug his wine in the morning. “Go ahead.” She offered one wrist like a queen awarding a knighthood to a courtier.

  His thumb stroked the sensitive skin of her inner wrist as he tied some complicated-looking knot, then he stretched out his arm and tied the other end around his own wrist. His deft fingers looped and twisted the rope around his tawny skin and when he pulled it tight with his teeth she felt a corresponding tug somewhere in the region of her stomach.

  “There. Long enough for you to turn over and sleep. But I’ll know the minute you try to escape. Remember that.”

  She folded herself down next to him on the blanket, noticing that he’d placed her on the side closest to the fire. He might deny all claim to chivalry, but the small gesture belied those claims. She stretched out on her side with her back to him, careful not to make contact, and tugged the cloak around her. The rope trailed loosely over her shoulder. He settled behind her, not touching, but she could feel the warmth radiating from his body. It was surprisingly comforting.

  She believed his promise not to touch her. Scoundrel he might be, but if he said he wouldn’t do so until she came to him willingly—then he wouldn’t. Besides, she must look entirely unappealing. Even when she wasn’t dirty and unkempt, she was hardly the sort to inspire uncontrollable lust in a man. She was too much the hellion, too unfeminine. He was used to taking his pick of the beautiful women of the Italian courts. He was probably as attracted to her as to a case of the plague.

  Suspended halfway between wakefulness and sleep, Cara closed her eyes and allowed herself a smile. Of all the positions she’d imagined she’d be in when she’d risen yesterday morning, lying on the forest floor with her nemesis less than a few feet away, physically tied to her, for heaven’s sake, was not one she’d imagined in her wildest dreams.

  Well, perhaps in her very wildest dreams . . .

  Alessandro listened patiently until Cara’s breathing evened out and when he was sure she slept, he raised himself onto one elbow to watch her.

  It was torture. No other word for it. Pleasure and pain all in one. He pondered the irony of having the woman of his dreams less than a foot away and being utterly unable to touch her. It was worse than being ten thousand miles away.

  He permitted himself the slightest brush of one fingertip against her cheek. They could have been back at San Rocco by now if he’d taken a less circuitous route. But he’d been enjoying his time with her, and he hadn’t wanted to share her with his guests. Soon he would force himself to hand her over to some dull, worthy burgher, someone who could love her as she deserved. But just for a few more nights, she was his. And he would savor whatever time they had left together.

  He reached over and pulled the end of the blanket over her body. It was going to be another bloody uncomfortable night. Staring up at the stars, he began naming constellations.

  Chapter 24

  A low, inhuman moan and a tug on the rope roused Cara. Her heart hammering in alarm, she rolled over and encountered del Sarto’s huge, shadowed back. His shoulder twitched. Then he flung out an arm with a yell as though trying to brush off an invisible insect. His movement made her own wrist jerk awkwardly in response.

  She sat up. “Del Sarto?”

  “From the flank! Now!” he murmured, rolling over onto his back, almost squashing her.

  His features were lit by the dull embers of the fire. His beautiful face was fierce. A muscle ticked in his jaw, as though his teeth were ground together, and his eyes were squeezed tightly shut. She shuffled her body closer, watching as his right hand made a fist.

  His head thrashed as if he had a fever. “No! You’re not going to bloody die. Come back!” he snarled.

  Silence.

  Her hand hovered close to his taut shoulder; his muscles strained against the fabric of his shirt. Then his eyes snapped open, staring and wild and he sat bolt upright. “Hold! Hold the line!” He ducked a blow from an unseen enemy.

  Cara touched him gently on the bicep. “Wake up! You’re dreaming.”

  He threw his full weight upon her, slamming her onto the ground so hard that every ounce of breath was forced from her lungs. He straddled her thighs, trapping her legs between his. The moonlight outlined his powerful shoulders and sleep-mussed hair. His eyes were wide, their dark glitter unfocused. He snarled something incoherent and closed his battle-roughened hand around her throat.

  Cara struggled for breath. “Stop!”

  His black, merciless stare held no glimmer of recognition. His face grew dim. At the periphery of her vision, little lights began flashing black and white, dancing and circling like snowflakes. Cara fastened her hands around his wrists and dug her fingernails into the corded tendons, desperate to break his grip on her throat. When that failed, she hit blindly at his head and ribs, raining blows wherever she could reach. It had no effect whatsoever.

  Then she remembered her dagger. She scrabbled for her boot, found the handle, and with a strength born of desperation, slashed the point towards his arm.

  Cold steel cutting his flesh cleared Alessandro’s vision. He deflected the blade in a reflex action that sent it skittering into the undergrowth and as the red mist dissolved he came to the horrifying realization of where he was. Cara—not some imaginary foe—was crushed beneath him. He was on top of her, his thighs straddling her hips. And one of his huge, murderous hands was around her throat.

  “Christ Almighty!” Bile rose in his throat and he let her go abruptly, sickened by the red marks his fingers had made on her pale skin.

  She lay where she was, gasping for air like a landed fish, and he pushed a shaking hand through his hair and risked a glance down at her. The moonlight showed her face all too clearly. Her magnificent eyes were huge in her pale face, staring up at him in fear and astonishment. He felt as though he’d been kicked in the gut.

  How had he lost control so completely? He’d been within a hair’s breadth of choking the life out of her. Oh God, he’d hurt her.

  What the hell was happening to him?

  He’d been dreaming of a battlefield, naturally. Bodies piled high, rivers full of corpses. And so much blood that it soaked him; on his hands, on his body, his face. He’d been wading through it, thigh-high, sticky, every movement an effort, like walking through treacle. His enemies had been all around, cutting him off from his men. He had to kill, survive, lead them out of danger—

  It frightened him, the savagery of his response, that blinding-hot flash of violence. God, she must think him deranged. It wasn’t far from the truth, but still, to have it revealed so openly, to have his charred and broken soul laid bare in front of her was the utmost humiliation.

  He rolled off her in one swift move, onto his back, suppressing a groan of despair as he covered his eyes with his forearm. He should apologize, explain, but he had no idea where to begin. Why the hell had he allowed her to sleep so close to him? He knew better than that.

  “What’s wrong with you?” she croaked.

  Alessandro wiped the trickle of blood from his arm. She’d made a shallow gash with her dagger, nothing more. “It’ll take more than that to finish me off.”

  “Well, I’m sorry,” she said. “But it was your own fault. I was only defending myself.” She sat up and brushed the leaves from her hair. “Are you all right?”

  Her concern for him—the very man who’d almost strangled her—made him want to kill himself.

  “How long have these nightmares plagued you?”

  “I don’t want to talk about it,” he growled.

  “What were you dreaming of? Tell me. Maybe I can help.”

  “I told you, I don’t want to talk about it.”

  This was exactly the reason he’d always made his squire sleep outside his tent rather than share with him, as was usual. Marco had thought it singular, as had his men, but at least they’d never uncovered the humiliating truth; that their fearless, untouchable leader regularly woke to find himself shaking and bathed in sweat, as confused and terrified as a stray dog in a thunderstorm.

  He’d managed to keep the galling truth from them for years. Even Francesco had no idea how bad it was. And yet in Cara’s company he’d managed to expose himself completely. What was it about this woman? Just being near her was enough to set his defenses crumbling.

  He wasn’t fit to be near her.

  He was a trained killer. He could have snapped her neck with his bare hands just now. Grown men cowered from him. But she, tiny slip of a girl, looked up at him with little more than surprise and confusion. And pity.

  The pity made his anger mount. He met her gaze and held it menacingly, watching as wariness crept into her expression. Good. She should be afraid. If she had one iota of self-preservation she’d run screaming into the forest. She needed to be taught to stay away from him.

  In a lightning move, he rolled back on top of her and pinned her wrists, pushing them flat against the blanket over her head, holding them easily in one of his hands. She gasped in alarm. The bones of her wrists were so fragile beneath his fingers, and the ease with which he could hurt her only increased his fury. “What the hell were you thinking?” he snarled. “I could have killed you!”

  Her eyes flashed. “What else should I have done?”

  “Left me alone.”

  “I was trying to help!”

  He gave her his best sneer. “This isn’t something you can doctor with your herbs and potions. Or were you going to offer a distraction?”

  Color flooded her face as she caught his meaning.

  “It’s not a bad idea,” he continued silkily. “Maybe the best way for me to sleep easy at night is to go to bed so exhausted I don’t have the energy to dream. A good fuck might do the trick.”

  Her eyes widened. “Don’t speak to me like that!”

  “I’ll speak to you any way I please, my lady.”

  He was acutely aware of his position. The ridges of his stomach pressed against her belly and his hard, aching groin was pressed between her thighs. Only a few layers of cloth separated them. His cock throbbed painfully and he ground his teeth. Christ alive, he wanted her.

  “Let me up!”

  “Oh, I don’t think so.” He gave her the smile he used to strike the fear of God into new recruits. It was equally effective on her. She paled and swallowed. “You’ve never had to deal with a real man before, have you sweeting?”

  “Of course I have. I deal with men every day of my life.”

  “Monks!” he sneered. “And servants. They don’t count. They left you alone because they respected your father, or because they feared him. They treated you like a Madonna, remote and untouchable.” She froze as he caressed her cheek. “I dare touch you. Now. Here. Whenever I like. Out here in the real world, courtly manners mean nothing. It all boils down to simple, savage things like which of us is stronger. Brawn wins again, Cara. I’m stronger than you. That makes you mine. To do with as I please.”

  Chapter 25

  Cara scowled up at him, her heart thudding painfully against her ribs. “All right. You’ve made your point. The next time you have a bad dream I’ll leave you to suffer. Now get off.” She bucked her hips and tried to roll over, but he didn’t move an inch. She was crushed by his weight, suffocated by his hot, hungry stare. She could only get up if he chose to let her go. And he did not choose.

  “I could take you now,” he growled. “You know my reputation. I plunder without mercy and give no quarter to the vanquished. What’s one more violated innocent to me?”

  She held his gaze. “You won’t force me.” For all his threats and bluster, she was sure of that. He was only lashing out because he was embarrassed at having shown any sort of vulnerability. Typical man. “Where would the challenge be in that?”

  His brows drew together, as if he were trying to come up with a counter-argument, and then all the tension left his frame. He sighed and released her wrists. “You’re right.”

  He sounded disgusted with himself. He shifted his weight, about to roll off her, and she was seized with the need to banish that bleak, defeated look from his eyes. Before she could think better of it, she caught his shirtfront, tugged him down, and pressed her lips to his.

  For a brief, stunned moment Alessandro’s mind went blank. And then Cara opened her mouth, inviting him in, and he was lost. With a groan of defeat he slid his tongue against hers.

  He’d meant to frighten her away, to scare her into never coming near him again. God, this was madness. Any minute she would come to her senses. She’d probably try to stab him again.

  He wouldn’t give her time to think.

  He kissed her again and again, long, drugging kisses that barely gave her enough time to breathe, let alone reason, lost in a desperate, driving rhythm that made his blood thicken and sing.

  He pressed his mouth to her cheeks, her closed eyelids, feathered kisses over her poor bruised throat in silent apology. He made a sound, somewhere between a sob and a groan, at the damage he’d done, but she just tilted her head back to grant him better access.

  Her simple trust decimated him. He raked a shaking hand down her body, from shoulder to the curve of her waist, then back up. She still wore his shirt. He traced the tie opening, pushed aside the fabric and cupped her breast. It fitted into his palm; a perfect handful. Like the cakes he’d watched her eat.

  She gasped and slid her fingers through his hair.

  He ducked his head, fastened his lips over the peak and sucked, using his tongue to flick and tease, and her hands tightened on his scalp. He breathed in her scent as though he were a man drowning. God, her skin. His senses reeled. He was dizzy with desire. He applied himself to the other breast, lavishing it with the same attention, and watched in satisfaction as her nipple beaded in the cold night air. Madness. Heaven. Sin.

 

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