Immortal Hope: The Curse of the Templars Page 25

  It took every last fragment of his willpower to meet her curious gaze and confess what honor demanded. “Anne, we cannot continue this,” he murmured. “’Twas wrong of me to take what is not mine. You are another man’s intended. One of my brothers.”

  She rose to her knees, straddling him, and plucked her hands free. Twining them around his shoulders, her fingers toyed with the lengths of hair at the back of his neck. “No.” She leaned in close, brushed her lips against the side of his throat. “I’m yours.” Her teeth raked against his neck, a brief pinch of pain she eased with the velvety caress of her tongue. “Believe with me.”

  Lowering herself fully onto his lap, she ground herself against his hardened shaft. Merrick let out a groan, and his resolve crumbled. He shoved the ties of honor to a far corner of his mind where they could not threaten the amazing fantasy of her request. Another woman he would set aside. But no more with Anne. Mikhail, the Order, the Almighty himself could damn him. Merrick no longer cared.

  Fisting his hand into Anne’s long hair, he dragged her mouth to his and claimed her in a savage kiss.

  CHAPTER 25

  Merrick’s mouth was harsh and unrelenting, his hold upon Anne’s hair almost cruel. And yet the feral nature of his kiss held a strangely erotic appeal. Behind it, Anne felt his turmoil, the struggle between what honor dictated and his body craved. She answered the plunder of his tongue with her own hungry thrusts as pleasure oozed down her spine.

  She let her hands wander, slid them beneath the roughened fabric of his jersey. There, his skin was hot to the touch. His heart drummed fierce beneath her palm, and the intoxicating scent of aroused male engulfed her. She squirmed closer, craving the feel of his body flush with hers.

  He broke the kiss long enough to jerk his shirt over his head and give the belt of satin around her waist a harassed tug. It pulled free, and Merrick shoved the satin aside, exposing the delicate fabric of her spaghetti-strapped black negligee. A tiny thrill bubbled around in her belly as Merrick’s dark eyes glinted across the lace neckline. He traced a thick fingertip over the deep V, then stroked the soft flesh of her breast where it rose above the lace.

  He lifted his gaze, and what she read there shook her to the core. His eyes burned bright, dark onyx chips lit with stark arousal. To realize a man could want her the way Merrick did left her shaken. She didn’t quite know how to embrace the way her heart clanged into her ribs, or her sudden inability to breathe. She tried to suck in a steadying breath, but it lodged in her throat and strangled on a gasp. The need to feel him deep inside rose hard and fast.

  As if he shared the same ache, Merrick’s mouth crashed into hers. His hands gripped her waist, rolling her hips over the hard ridge of his erection. She shuddered as a wave of ecstasy ripped through her. Clinging to his shoulders, Anne held on, afraid the tingles that jetted through her body might sweep her into some unreachable place.

  God and heaven above, nothing about him was gentle. Not this time, as the warrior who ravaged long-ago battlefields took rapid command of her. He nudged her into the mountain of pillows, dominating her with his hands, his lips, the weight of his body. His thighs trapped her against the mattress. With one hand, he gathered her arms above her head and scored a trail of kisses down the length of her neck. The other gathered in the neckline of her nightgown and ripped it open.

  His breath scalded against her breasts, and she arched her back, lifting into him. He flicked his tongue against a puckered nipple, reducing her to putty in his hands. When his mouth closed over her flesh and he suckled, she let out a mewl of pleasure. Tugging to free her hands, she sought to capture his head, to hold him in place as she squirmed beneath him, but he forbade her the freedom and tightened his hold on her wrists.

  Anne tossed her head to the side, clamping down on her lower lip to silence a cry of frustration. Her entire body trembled, the pleasure of his loving a torment too great. She lifted her hips, rubbed against the straining fabric of his jeans, and gave in to a whimper.

  When Merrick moved to her other breast, treating it to the same exquisite torture, she twisted against the heady bliss. Captured so she could do no more than experience every prolonged stroke, each perfect nip of his teeth, heat swamped her body, gushed between her legs. Lord above, Merrick would kill her this way if he didn’t let her touch him soon.

  But contrary to his seemingly determined purpose, Anne caught the measure of his faltering control in the hardness of his breath, the shudder that rolled down his spine and vibrated into her. He tore his mouth away and pressed his hips hard into hers. Stilling, he closed his eyes and sucked in short ragged gasps. Opening them, his gaze locked with hers.

  “Let me go,” she whispered.

  Merrick let go of her hands and rocked back to his heels. As he reached for the button at his waist, Anne pushed his hands aside and freed him from the confines of his jeans. He wasted no time in shrugging out of them, then reached for her sock-clad foot. A moment of panic stormed through her at the possibility he would realize the truth behind her confession she was his, and she jerked her foot beneath her, rising up to meld her body against his.

  Hardened planes of muscle warmed her naked flesh, a heady sensation that momentarily rendered Anne unable to think. Slowly, her senses returned, and she tilted her head in search of his mouth. He gave it to her freely, his large palms wrapping around to cup her buttocks. Pulling her closer, his erection pressed against her sensitive feminine nub and sent another arc of pleasure rolling through her body.

  Consumed by need, Anne pushed against his shoulders, urging him to his back. As Merrick tumbled into the thick quilts, he took her with him. She straddled his hips, bent forward to brush her breasts against his chest.

  Yet Merrick would have none of her attempts at loving him. He turned his head, breaking their kiss and fastened his hands at her waist. Holding her gaze, he lifted her up, and in one swift thrust, impaled her. Shock rolled through her body, the sudden invasion more pleasant than she’d ever imagined. She moaned against the flood of sensation. Her nails curled into his forearms, as release pounded through her. Trembling, she gave into ecstasy, and held herself upright on his arms.

  * * *

  Around his throbbing shaft, Anne’s flesh gripped and squeezed, edging Merrick closer to his own release. But though he had claimed her quickly, though he had heedlessly sought his own fulfillment, he had no intentions of making this joining quick and insignificant. He rolled his hips backward, withdrawing from her silken folds, then sank into Anne again, marveling at the feel of her tight flesh.

  Saints’ blood, the woman was too perfect to be real. It would be too easy to become lost in her, to yield to the demands of his body. Yet he wanted naught more than to share her splendor and surrender in unison.

  As the last of her climax pulsed around his cock, she found strength enough to lean closer. He caught her mouth, tangled his tongue with hers. Her flavor soaked into him, honeyed and rich, a taste far more exotic than any foreign ale. When she settled her hands over his chest and her fingers burned into his skin, he dropped his thumb to the juncture of her legs and pressed against the sensitive nub there.

  She keened, a strangled noise that got lost in his throat. His body moved of its own accord, thrusting into hers, and he shook with the effort of holding himself in check. Impatient need demanded he slam into her, toss away the vain intent to see to her pleasure once more. He cast it aside with a vengeance and willed his body into a slow, even tempo. Nay, he would wait for her, no matter how it pained him.

  Anne moved against him, each roll of her hips scalding pleasure through his veins. He glided in and out of her body, focusing on the sweetness of her mouth. God’s teeth he was so ready he thought he might snap in half. His belly quivered against chained desire, his cock swelled near painful limits.

  When he felt the moistened folds of her flesh flutter around his shaft, he eased their kiss to a close and captured one hand in his. Threading his fingers through hers, he allowed her to gu
ide him, to take him at the pace she required. The undulation of her hips, the jagged gasps that tumbled from her lips spiraled him so far into her, he could no longer decipher where she began and where he started. She consumed him, and Merrick closed his eyes to the ecstasy she alone created.

  “Merrick…”

  Her quiet cry was all he needed. In one hard thrust, he plunged deep inside her. His body jerked upward, curling toward hers, and he wound one arm around her waist, holding her close. Pleasure burst forth, so bright and burning he felt dizzy. It stormed past centuries of darkness, lighting that distant part of his soul she somehow managed to touch. He sank his teeth into her shoulder, choking back his own hoarse cry, and spilled his seed.

  Long moments passed as Merrick held her, the velocity of their ragged breaths a shared intensity. Though his body slowed, and the pounding behind his ribs eased, his limbs quaked with the fierce effect of their loving. He lifted his head, pressed a light kiss against the side of her neck. There he tasted the faint flavor of salt that accompanied the fine sheen of perspiration.

  He found her mouth, drew her into a slow, sensual kiss. Her fingers twined into his hair, and he allowed his body to relax. Spent and boneless, he tumbled into the pillows, bringing her with him and reveled in the feel of her soft curves. No other woman had ever rendered him so utterly powerless, and yet this tiny scrap of one somehow weaseled her way beneath his skin far enough he could not even think. She commanded him as easily as any man of arms. His little general. His beautiful little demon.

  Throat so dry he dared not speak, Merrick tucked her head against his shoulder and closed his eyes. He recognized the evenness of her breathing, felt the limpness in her limbs. Long auburn tresses cascaded over his chest like fine strands of silk that beckoned to his hands. He stroked her hair, traced the delicate bones of her spine, content to bathe in all she was.

  CHAPTER 26

  Bright sunlight streaming through her window roused Anne to morning. She cracked one eye open, admiring the way Merrick filled up the bed. In sleep, he was even more handsome. His features softened as they did when he smiled at her. She let out a contented sigh and snuggled deeper into the covers, twining an ankle through his legs.

  On the heels of her contentment, despair bubbled through her veins. Last night she had confessed. Though she’d masked the slip with convincing words, in that moment, had he pressed her, she would have shown him the tattoo on her ankle. She wanted to—God knew she longed to spend eternity with this incredible man. But she could not sacrifice a career she’d devoted the majority of her life to, or risk Merrick’s inevitable death. Beyond her professional losses, pledging herself to him, revealing he was her intended, would see him to the grave. She couldn’t face that responsibility, even if the Almighty had written it in the stars.

  Add in her concern over Sophie, and she faced only one option—she had to leave. If it meant saving Merrick’s life, she’d leave before she learned the Church’s motivation. Though walking away from the knowledge in these halls would haunt her for eternity, she dared not stay. She frowned at the quandary. There had to be another way she could learn the Templar secrets, discover the truth among much rumor, without either breaking her promise to Merrick or revealing her tattoo.

  Maybe Gareth would tell her. He’d seemed amicable enough. Heck, of all the men she’d met here, he remained the only one who treated her with any decency—with the exception of Merrick. Declan was friendly, but he was still in the infirmary. Lucan had been civil, but his loyalty ran deep. Like Farran, he’d tell Merrick if she did anything that threatened the Order’s code of ethics.

  Yes, that’s exactly what she’d do. The next time Merrick left the temple for any length of time, she’d seek out Gareth and convince him into showing her the inner sanctum. Not exactly the most honorable thing she could contrive, but the only plausible option. When she left, Merrick would be angry, but at least he’d be alive. For that, eventually he’d thank her.

  An angry banging on her door brought her upright.

  Merrick rolled over and tossed a heavy arm around her waist.

  “Merrick!”

  Through the heavy pounding, Anne recognized Mikhail’s bellow. She shoved at Merrick’s shoulder, and he groggily opened his eyes. At the continuous thumping, he too sat upright, the sheet falling to his waist.

  Unabashed, Merrick kicked the covers aside and strode through the bedroom door to answer Mikhail’s unfriendly awakening. Anne gawked after him, stunned to see him so comfortable in his nakedness, so absolutely unashamed. Her cheeks heated, and she scrambled to cover herself.

  Thankfully, she righted the sheet just as Mikhail barged into the sitting room. His gaze flicked briefly to her, before he turned his back and folded his arms over his chest.

  Mortified, Anne wanted to vanish into the bed. With Merrick standing there in all his naked glory, and she clutching at the sheets like a frightened mouse, there could be no confusion about how they’d spent the night. To have an archangel witness what could only be sinful in his eyes, was a greater humiliation than Anne had ever considered.

  When Merrick beckoned to her, she almost died of shame. But she managed to find the courage to yank the sheet out of the bed, wrap it around herself, and stumble to the door. Halfway across the room, he gestured at his discarded jeans, and Anne salvaged the last of her pride to pick them up, enter the sitting room, and hand them to him. Without daring to look at Mikhail, she scurried back to her room and pulled the French doors shut. Leaning against them, she listened to their anxious exchange.

  “You, Caradoc, Lucan, and Farran shall go to St. Louis, along with Nikolas, Geoffrey, and William the Strong.”

  “Aye. ’Tis the disturbance significant?”

  “Enough I need the seven of you present. Again, Caradoc shall act as your second. I will instruct the others. You must leave at once, Merrick.”

  Anne covered a gasp with her hand. Leave? Mikhail was sending him to battle? Fear coursed through her veins, turning her blood to ice. Not to fight. Please, God, not to fight. In a moment of fleeting insanity, she considered hiding Merrick’s sword.

  “You do not send Tane?”

  “I cannot locate Tane. Another thing, Merrick,” Mikhail continued, his voice lower, less agitated.

  “Aye?”

  “Raphael’s scout mentioned he caught sight of Fulk.”

  Merrick fell strangely silent. The closing of the outer door was all that echoed through the room. For several never-ending seconds, she waited, debating whether she should go to him, or wait for him to return to the bedroom. Yet as she reached for the handle, opting to inquire on her own, Merrick’s footfalls approached the door. She stepped away, giving him room to enter.

  His expression was hard, the same grim lines she’d witnessed the first night they’d met. He moved at a slower gait, picking up his shirt as he approached the bed. There, however, he sat down, the garment dangling between his knees while he stared at the bathroom entryway.

  “Merrick?” Anne asked softly. She trudged to his side and peered down at him curiously.

  As if she drew him from some trance, his gaze snapped to her face. “I must take my leave. My men are needed in St. Louis. It will take us all day to prepare, travel, and seek the rest we must have before we approach the faltering gate.”

  Anne closed her eyes on a wince. Reaching for him, she found his shoulder and steadied herself against the sudden spinning of the room. Battle. She hadn’t heard wrong. Though no one had mentioned the nail, he’d been injured the last time he fought. What if this time was worse? “Why you?” she blurted out. “Can’t he send someone else?”

  Merrick covered her hand with his and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Your concern touches me, Anne. Yet ’tis my duty to command. I am the eldest. I am sent on every mission, unless I am away.” Though he offered her a smile, the light in his eyes didn’t match the gesture. He would never confess it, but he worried.

  “Don’t go,” she whispered.

&nb
sp; Chuckling, he released her hand to pull his shirt over his head. “I must. Hand me my sword, please.”

  Snatching what little courage she could from the knowledge that he was guarding a gate, not a sacred nail, Anne bent down and wrapped her fingers around the cool metal sheath. Standing, she hesitated, her gaze searching Merrick’s grim expression. He wasn’t telling her something—she could sense it in the depths of her soul. The last time he’d left, he hadn’t looked so preoccupied. True, he’d been angry then. But this was different. This hinted at danger Merrick didn’t feel the last time he went to fight.

  Desperate for answers, she set the sword on the bed and grabbed for his hand. Opening her mind, she reached for her second sight like a drowning man might reach for a floating log.

  Please, God.

  Merrick pulled at his hand, but she clung tighter. With a sigh of resignation, he wound his free arm around her waist and dragged her into his lap. She barely had time to realize his intention before he settled his mouth over hers and drew her into a leisurely kiss. The rapid beating of her heart subsided as his tongue glided against hers. Slowly, tenderly, he took her back to the night before, the way he’d loved her so thoroughly she’d fallen asleep in his arms.

  As he eased the kiss to a lingering close, he cupped the side of her face in his hand. “Do not worry for me, damsel. I shall return to you tonight, and we will resume this kiss.” His thumb brushed against her cheek, his eyes full of warmth. “Should you need anything whilst I am away, ask Gareth to attend to you.”

  That sealed it. Something wasn’t right. Anne didn’t know everything about Merrick, but the fact he would pair her with the man who inadvertently brought them together said more than Merrick’s words. A fresh burst of fear slid through her veins, restoring her heart to its same, erratic beat. What wasn’t he telling her?

  “Now dress yourself, damsel, so you may see me to the door.”

  Merrick didn’t give her opportunity to argue. Gently, he set her feet on the floor and gave her a push, dislodging her from his lap. With little other option, Anne snatched up her robe and quickly stuffed her arms inside. She belted it tight as Merrick shoved his feet into his boots.