Part 45 (1/2)

Alex stood at the head of the stairs, staring down into the inky blackness. There was no crash, or sounds of falling, but Alex didn't have a candelabra with him. He would not chance breaking his neck in pursuit of a phantom. d.a.m.n it all. It was someone within the keep. He had hoped that Wolf's disappearance was an isolated occurrence, that someone had gained access via the cove and had their revenge. But the culprit was still here and he'd been after Fayth.

Eliot. It had to be.

Alex went to the main staircase and whistled softly. Two men appeared from the darkness. He instructed one to search the lower floors for anything unusual and posted the other at the bottom of the unused servants' stairs.

When they departed, Alex returned to his candlelit bench. He started to sit when he noticed the gray rectangle of Fayth's doorway. The intruder had unlatched the door and it must have swung open. Alex walked quietly to the door and reached for the latch to pull it closed.

Moonlight streamed into the room from the open shutters, illuminating the room with a soft silver glow. The air left him at once when he saw her, standing an arm's length away, beside the open door.

Her hair floated around her shoulders, partially hiding her face. Her nights.h.i.+ft covered her from wrist to toes, but the neck gaped, exposing soft collarbones and neck. He recalled having his hands against that skin. His palms itched, hungry for the feel of her.

The eyes that gazed up at him were luminous, unblinking.

”What are you doing, standing there?” His voice sounded strange, raw and broken.

”I thought it was you.”

His mind raced forward, trying to find hidden meaning in her words. ”It is me.”

”I mean... I thought it was you at the door... coming to me.”

His heart slammed a painful rhythm against his ribs. Blood rushed loudly in his ears. I thought it was you... coming to me. She hadn't moved; neither had he. He still leaned forward awkwardly, his hand grasping the door latch. Why can't you rescue me?

”Were you going to send me away?”

She shook her head, curls brus.h.i.+ng her shoulders.

Alex gripped the latch so fiercely the metal bit into his palm. ”Fayth...” He didn't know what he meant to say. He hadn't the strength to tell her no again.

She wore nothing beneath her nights.h.i.+ft. Small toes peeked at him. When she stepped toward him, he glimpsed tiny, arched feet, the ankles so delicate he could snap them with one hand.

”You sit out there every night.” She gazed up at him, her skin limed in moonlight. ”And I can't sleep, knowing you're there... so close.”

The muscles in his arm trembled from how hard he gripped the door latch. He released it, flexing his cramping hand. He wanted to touch her, but knew if he did, it wouldn't be enough. Still, his hand rose, sliding over soft skin, to cup her cheek. Her fingers gripped his wrist and she lifted her chin, waiting for his kiss.

He lowered his head, until his mouth hovered over hers. ”If we do this-”

She closed the distance between them, pressing her lips to his and silencing his warnings. He pulled her into his arms, words forgotten in the warmth of her mouth, the stroke of her tongue.

Fayth tried to pull him closer. He was so tall and she, so much smaller. She wanted him over her, around her. She couldn't believe he was here, in her room. Every night she prayed he would come to her-and here he was. She would not let him walk away. When he held her and kissed her, she could forget who he was, who she was, and that's all she wanted tonight. To be man and woman, not Graham and Maxwell.

His hands slid beneath her arms, lifting her above him. She gasped, but understood readily. Her arms snaked tightly around his neck, her thighs gripping his waist. She laughed at his power, his strength, as he shut the door and carried her to bed.

He smiled back, wicked and knowing, before capturing her mouth again. He sat on the bed, so she straddled him, and she kissed him and kissed him, until she could hardly breathe from the pleasure of his mouth. His hands were beneath her nights.h.i.+ft, sliding over her back and waist, and lower, to cup her bottom.

She moved against him. Her body ached and throbbed, and pressing her groin to his sent ripples of excitement deep in her belly. He groaned into her mouth. His arms circled her so tightly she felt the rumbling timbre of his voice in her bones. Then his hands were at the neck of her s.h.i.+ft, inelegant and eager. When he could not untie the knot, he yanked, ripping the material open and exposing her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. She gasped, then laughed.

The hands that pushed the material from her shoulders were gentle, trembling slightly as they slid over her back. She was bare from the waist up, s.h.i.+vering in the breeze from the open window. He lowered his mouth to her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, his tongue swirling over the peak, while his hand slid down her belly, between her thighs.

She gasped his name between panted breaths; his fingers seeking, pleasuring. She clutched his shoulders, mindlessly receiving all he gave. He lifted her off him, laying her on her back. He spread her thighs, and to her profound astonishment, replaced his fingers with his mouth. The protest caught in her throat, her hands poised to push his head away. Her head fell back, her hands grabbing handfuls of sheet. He held her firmly as her hips writhed and jerked, his tongue and fingers working in rhythm with the pounding of her heart. She thought she would die. She could barely draw breath, her body coiled and tightened, the ache building inexorably to some climax she could not fathom. And then it burst over her and she heard her own disjointed cries and whimpers.