Page 22 of Secrets of the Highwayman (Immortal Warriors #2)

M elanie stepped inside the gloomy entry hall and the door shut hollowly behind her. She was freezing. Hugging herself, she ran shivering up the staircase, pausing briefly to glance at Nathaniel’s portrait. Her lips twitched at the sight of him—the Gentleman of the Manor. Was that what he would have been if Pengorren hadn’t come along?

Pengorren, he was like the rotten core in the apple.

Melanie reached the landing, her shoes squelching, and headed for the bathroom. With a prayer and cold, shaking hands, she turned on the hot water and almost sobbed with gratitude when steam began to pour into the big, chilly room. Stumbling, cursing, she peeled off her wet clothing and dumped it on the floor, stepped into the bath, and sank into rising water.

The water was only up to her hips, and her top half was still goose-bumped. She shivered, sliding down farther into the bath, trying to get warm. The combination of running water and the clanging of the old pipes was thunderous. The room was filling with so much steam, she could hardly see in front of her, but she didn’t care.

Nothing could be worse than what she’d seen over the past days. Pengorren had found her, somehow, after all these years, he had tracked her down, and now it felt as if she would never escape him.

He came out of the steam like a ghost out of mist and Melanie shrieked, and then covered her mouth, her eyes enormous above her hands.

“Don’t do that!” she gasped. “Don’t you do that!”

“I’m sorry.” Nathaniel hesitated, and then he sat down on the edge of the big old bath. “I was worried. When I got back, you’d disappeared. I heard the water running.” He quirked an eyebrow at her, but wisely he kept his eyes fastened on hers. “What was I to think?”

“That I was cold? That I needed a bath?” Melanie wrapped her arms about her breasts and slunk down farther into the water. It was deeper now but still not deep enough. She wanted to sink under it completely and vanish, and take her troubles with her.

She felt his hand on her hair and looked up. He brushed the wet strands off her brow, gently, as if she was made of glass. Then he bent and kissed her warm, damp skin.

“Are you really here this time?”

“What do you think?”

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered.

Her heart began to thud.

“Nathaniel?”

“Hmm?” He pressed tiny, comforting kisses over her temple, across her cheekbone, moving with leisurely pace toward her mouth.

She could have stopped him at any time, but he was warm and real, and Melanie heard herself make a little sound of need. His lips caressed, moving over hers. For a moment the image of Pengorren flashed into her mind, but it was so far removed from Nathaniel and what she was feeling now, that it did not affect her, and she simply shut it out.

“You’re wet, too,” she said, drawing slightly away from him. “Aren’t you cold?”

He met the look she gave him from under her lashes and smiled slowly. “Frozen,” he assured her. “Do you mind . . . ?”

“Be my guest.”

They were very polite, but their eyes, their mouths, were saying other more urgent things. His shirt was so wet it was transparent, outlining the curves and ridges of bone and muscle. He pulled it over his head, and Melanie reached out to touch him, trailing her fingers over his shoulders and chest and upper arms. His leanness was deceptive—he was all hard muscle. He pulled off his boots and tossed them across the bathroom, and then stood up and began to unbutton his breeches.

Melanie leaned back in the water, watching him through her lashes. She felt decadent, lying here naked, wanting him. Because she did want Nathaniel Raven, and for once in her life she wasn’t going to deny herself just because she feared the consequences. Things had gone beyond that. They had experienced some dangerous and intense moments together; they had faced a common and deadly enemy. Who knew what the next hour would bring, let alone tomorrow.

Nathaniel wanted her, too.

The evidence was there as he wrapped his hands around her upper arms and lifted her body up against his, slowly, every inch sliding and touching. Water trickled over her flushed skin, glistening. She smelled the musky scent of him, felt his erection hard and exciting against her. Her breasts ached as they brushed against the hair on his chest, and she heard her own breathing quicken. She’d never been this hot for a man before, not like this. She wanted to twine herself around him, touch . . . no, lick, every inch of him.

His mouth, she couldn’t get enough of his mouth. She clung around his neck, tugging his hair between her fingers. The dark ribbon slipped off, and she raked her fingers through the smooth shoulder-length strands.

They stood together in the bath, and their bodies moved together. He was exactly how she liked a man to be—she’d known that from the start—and she felt completely female, as if she could be as wild and wanton as she liked, and he would understand. He would accept her for what she was.

Nathaniel wound a short lock of her own fair hair around his fist, tilting her head up to his. His eyes were more gold than hazel, and his dark hair swung down to frame his handsome face as he gazed down at her intently. “You do want me,” he said, and it was a growl of satisfaction. And then he claimed her mouth again.

Melanie lifted her thigh, pressing the sensitive inner skin along the hard muscle of his, trying to get closer. She was hot, burning up, aching with need. It felt good as he gripped her, lifted her, and pressed her to the cold tiles on the wall. She gasped as her hot skin came in contact with the chill tiles, and then gasped again as he leaned his body in on her, his skin setting her on fire. He was cupping her bottom with his hands, stroking her, caressing her. And all the while he kept kissing her mouth.

And his mouth was hot. Nathaniel Raven was hot.

He lowered his head, and she felt his tongue on her throat, and then his mouth again, kissing, sucking. Melanie arched back, moaning softly, and felt his mouth against her breasts. He ran his tongue across the upper swell of one and then the other, and then he was covering her nipple with his mouth, sucking, rolling it with his tongue, tugging it with his teeth.

Melanie purred in her throat.

She clasped him with her thighs, and his erection pressed against the swollen folds between her legs. She wanted him inside her. She knew she had to have him inside her, completely. Melanie tilted her hips forward and felt him enter her that first little bit.

It was sensual heaven.

He groaned against her neck and reached down to adjust her thighs around his hips, but she realized he was holding back, keeping her prisoner between his body and the tiled wall, but not letting her end it. When he lifted his head she couldn’t take her eyes off his mouth. She leaned forward and took his bottom lip between her teeth, biting down hard enough for him to feel her but not to break the skin.

“Now,” she said, her voice husky with need. “Do it now.”

He slid inside her, and she closed her eyes, feeling him, savoring it as he filled her. Already she was trembling, on the verge of climax. He must have known it, and, wanting to control it, he stopped. His chest was rising and falling as if he’d been running. He let his head fall back, and she licked at the arch of his throat, tasting him, wanting more. He slid out and then thrust into her again, harder, and the climax hovered nearer. She was balancing on the edge of the precipice.

“Melanie,” he groaned.

Her name on his mouth was enough.

With a gasping cry she went over the edge, clinging to him, her hips moving frantically against him. Even while her body was soaring she felt him thrusting again, and then he cried out and followed her.

There were colors in her head, actual starbursts of color. It was like nothing she had ever known. She couldn’t speak; speaking was beyond her. It felt more than sex, more than an orgasm; it was an experience she would remember for the rest of her life.

Melanie took a breath and wanted to ask him if he’d seen the lights, too. If he’d felt his body lifting and flying. But she was too weak, too sated. She realized he was taking her very carefully in his arms, holding her boneless body against his, and then he was lowering them both, down into the wonderful steamy water.

It sloshed, puddling on the floor, but she didn’t care. For once in her life she didn’t care about anything but the moment. She was content to lie lifeless in his arms. She sprawled against his body, supported by him and the water, her cheek on his chest, his arms wrapped about her, and she had never been more content.

Melanie could feel his heart beating. She turned her face and kissed his skin, tasting it, and then wondered at herself. Usually she had trouble turning her mind off when she was with a man, but this was different. She felt renewed. A new woman, she thought, with a smile.

“Are you all right?”

She could hear his voice inside his chest and wriggled closer. “More all right than I’ve been for a long time.”

The colors in her head had receded, but there was still a strange echoey feeling in there, as if something had come loose. As if she’d gone to sleep and then woken up in a new body and now she had to get used to it.

Nathaniel liked her answer. He bent and kissed the top of her head. Melanie Jones had just succeeded in removing every other woman he had ever known from his memory. Who would have believed it? He was still trying to get his breath back. He cupped her breast, thoroughly enjoying the sensation of her smooth, full flesh in his hand. He’d wanted her since the moment he saw her; he’d felt the pull of attraction between them like the tug of a rope. Yes, he’d had reservations, but they had more to do with the fact that she was from now and he was from before, and that he had so little time to solve the mystery of Pengorren. He’d never doubted they would make wonderful love together.

He just hadn’t realized quite how wonderful.

She tilted her head and looked up at him, and her blue eyes were so bright they were almost luminous. For a moment he found it impossible to look away from them. From her. He took a breath and closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, the intensity had dimmed a little.

“Nathaniel?” she whispered, and shifted against him. Wherever her body touched his skin seemed to tingle, his blood to heat up. He felt himself rapidly getting hard again.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said quietly, and bent his mouth to hers.

The spark ignited, turning into instant fireworks.

Melanie straddled him in the water, the tips of her breasts brushing his chest. With her short fair hair and slanting eyes, she looked almost otherworldly. An angel fallen to earth. Or maybe not, he decided, as her smile turned wicked and sensual. She reached between them and stroked the hard length of him.

Nathaniel groaned. He hadn’t had a woman in almost two hundred years, but he’d be perfectly happy if he never had another one. Apart from Melanie. As she slid down over his body, using her tongue and her mouth, he just hoped he could survive what she had in mind for him next, without dying of pleasure.

M r. Trewartha wasn’t a sentimental man, far from it, but he had a few keepsakes from his past. A few mementoes. He had loved few people, but he loved his collection of antiques, and he loved his life.

There was one watercolor miniature he was particularly fond of. Awkwardly, he opened the case, holding the portrait up to the light.

She had really captured the look of him. She had talent, certainly, but as with most women it had been frittered away with self-destructive behavior. Time had taken care of the rest. Sadly, he’d fallen out of love with her quite soon after they’d met.

No use feeling guilty about it, it was just the way things happened.

Mr. Trewartha closed the metal case and slipped the chain back over his head. He shut his eyes, suddenly feeling very tired. So much to do. He’d have to ring the Jones woman again and let her know when he was coming. There were things she needed to hear, things he needed to tell her.

Before it was too late.