Immortal Hope: The Curse of the Templars Read online

  Anne.

  He flung the door open before the SUV stopped, his boots hitting the pavement as Farran slammed the gear into park. Merrick willed himself to walk, not run, but as he approached, and Anne looked up at him, he struck a jog. Her eyes glistened with unshed tears, the glimmer tugging fierce on his heart.

  Halfway across the pavement, he spied Tane. ’Twas all it took to bring out the centuries-old warrior within him. As time ground to a halt, he was twenty-three and stood before the vile earl who dared to force himself on Merrick’s mother as a payment for rents she could ill afford.

  Logic fled. In one mighty blow, he drove a fist into Tane’s jaw. The thick bone gave with an unmistakable crack. Another fist doubled the younger knight over, and Merrick wasted no time in crushing his nose.

  Dimly, he heard Anne’s cry, “Merrick, stop!”

  Yet he could no more stop the force of his rage than he could reverse the damage Azazel had done to his soul. He grabbed Tane by the shirt, mindless of the blood that poured from his nose, and shoved him back against a crumbling warehouse wall to slam another fist into his face.

  Strong arms caught Merrick from behind. He twisted, struggling to break free, but the more he fought, the more crushing the embrace became.

  “Enough!”

  Farran’s bellow cut through Merrick’s blind fury. With a fierce jerk, Farran hauled him away from Tane. Merrick watched the traitor knight crumple to the ground where he made no attempt to rise.

  Farran spun Merrick around and gave him a shove in Anne’s direction. “See to the lady. I will deal with Tane.”

  Tears trickled down Anne’s face, each salty drop piercing through Merrick like a knife. For a moment, he knew not what to do. The sight of her unexpected sorrow left him speechless. Her sniffle, however, turned his heart with such force, he winced. God’s teeth, he had seen countless women mourn, yet not one had ever reached in and wound such a fierce fist around his core.

  His fury dissipated as he dropped to his knees before her. With a sob, Anne flung herself into his embrace. Her fingers dug into his shoulders, her dampened cheek pressed to his chest. Merrick gathered her close. “Anne,” he murmured against her hair.

  She turned dampened eyes to him, and he became lost in her watery gaze, wondering how this bossy little woman had ever worked her way into his heart. He dipped his head, touched his lips to hers. Soft and warm, her mouth parted beneath his, and she melted into his arms. The salty flavor of her tears reminded him she was not always brave, that behind the grand facade and stubborn will she was feminine and vulnerable. Mayhap as vulnerable as he.

  When she kissed him back, his blood warmed. The chill of November night disappeared, the gathered homeless faded from his awareness. Slow, languid strokes of her tongue erased all sense of time and place, and he tangled a hand through her long hair. Her perfume infused his thoughts, awakening a storm of desire. His shaft stirred against his thigh.

  On a shaky breath, Merrick eased the kiss to a lingering close. He loosed her hair, framed her face between his hands. His gaze searched hers. “Did he hurt you?”

  Anne shook her head. She wound her arms around his waist and burrowed deep against his chest. Her tremble shook through his limbs, and he realized for the first time that she wore naught but her nightclothes beneath the raggedy blanket. Leaning out of her embrace, he tugged his sweatshirt over his head and pressed it into her hands.

  She pulled the heavy garment on. “Take me home?”

  “Aye.” He could think of naught he wanted more.

  At his side, Farran ushered Tane to the rear of the SUV. A cloth pressed to his nose, Tane walked with his head bowed. His posture lacked resistance, and Merrick choked down another rush of anger. It would do no good to pound him with his fists now—to give in to the urge would only stain Merrick’s honor. Tane had suffered at his hands. What remained of his future would be price enough to pay.

  Merrick swept Anne into his arms and carried her to the vehicle. He crawled in the middle seat beside her, ignoring Tane. With Anne tucked against his side, he fell into silence and the twenty-minute trip to the temple passed quickly.

  There, however, Merrick’s simple plans of disappearing with Anne crumbled around him. Caradoc and Lucan waited on the doorstep. They swamped the SUV, determined to drag Tane inside and force Merrick to join them in front of Mikhail.

  “Merrick, you must make your wishes known,” Lucan insisted. “He should be removed from the Order, immediately.”

  “Mikhail will want your explanation of what happened,” Caradoc echoed.

  It took all of Merrick’s patience, and then some, to help Anne out of the SUV without flogging them. Farran, however, came to his rescue as Merrick collected Anne into his arms.

  “Cease,” he ground out evenly. “Tane can be dealt with on the morrow. ’Tis late. Too late for words. Take our brother to Mikhail and see that he is confined for the night.” He nudged Tane into Caradoc’s grasp and shoved through the gathering crowd to the door.

  Merrick followed in his wake, carrying a dozing Anne up the stairs into her rooms where he deposited her gently on her bed. She snuggled into the pillows and gifted him with her first smile of the evening. Though it trembled at the corners of her mouth, he could think of naught more beautiful.

  “Sleep, my sweet,” he murmured as he bent to kiss her good night.

  She shook her head and flattened her hand against his chest. “I was so scared when you left. Then you came back, and you were okay. I wanted to talk to you … Then Tane…” She trailed off, shuddering. “Make love to me. My heart craves you so.”

  A feeling of tenderness unlike any he had ever known overcame Merrick. It went beyond the pleasantry of knowing she worried for him, surpassed the rise of desire that accompanied her simple words. It swamped through his veins, thickened his tongue, and closed his throat. He stepped back from the bed to shed his clothes. At the same time, she shimmied out of her robe and gown. She leaned over and clicked off the lamp.

  The light of the moon shone through her window, bathing her skin with silver. Slender fingers beckoned him into the bed, and Merrick’s entire body trembled with emotion. Love her. Saints’ toes, he loved her beyond all reason. If she were but his, he would tell her until he exhausted all the words. But admitting such would only make things more difficult when she met her intended, and so he choked down the rising confession and buried it deep within his heart.

  He lowered himself into the bed, kneeling between her parted legs. Bending forward, he kissed her with all the pent-up feeling he felt for her, and slowly sank into her silken embrace. Her arms came around his neck, her fingers teased through his hair. In a slow, unhurried manner, he kissed her lips, her eyes, her throat. His hands explored her curves, traced the soft contours of her body, and though he knew them all by heart, he etched them into his mind with the thoroughness of a blind man’s touch. The whisper of her breath against his skin seared into his memory, her kisses more sweet, more tantalizing, than any sugar treat.

  * * *

  Anne luxuriated in Merrick’s mesmerizing warmth. The power of his hands amazed her. Moments earlier, she’d watched him shatter a man’s face. Now he caressed her body with such tenderness she had difficulty believing the two men were the same. Gentle fingers massaged her breasts, stirred the warmth that flowed in her veins down into her belly where it spread and fanned lower. They cupped and lifted, kneaded and stroked, until every nerve ending above her waist stood at attention and begged for the feel of his mouth.

  Something was different tonight. Between her legs, the hard evidence of his desire pressed into her moistened flesh, but Merrick showed no signs of impatience. Unlike the other times they’d loved, he seemed content to draw their joining out indefinitely. This was somehow richer, more sonorous. As if each kiss, each touch, each brush of his skin against hers spilled a part of him into her.

  And she responded with the same deep feeling he aroused, opening herself completely to the man who h
ad broken oaths to keep her at his side.

  When at last he dusted his mouth down her neck and closed his lips around her nipple, she sucked in a sharp breath and arched into his arms. Closing her eyes, she tipped her head to the side. Her fingers found his hair, and she hung on while sensations thrummed through her. Oh the idea of being his eternally—how tempting it was to tell him. To swear this oath the knights referred to and never have to leave his side.

  But in the back of her mind, she knew it was only a dream. While this pleasure defied her darkest fantasies, it wouldn’t last. She would pledge herself to Merrick, and he would forfeit his life. The only future they had would be if he’d leave the temple and come with her. Yet she was too weary to broach the subject of leaving with him tonight, too tangled up in bliss to instigate a fight. Later … Tomorrow when he—

  Merrick took her nipple between his teeth and nipped hard. A burst of pleasure chased away the disparaging thoughts of their polarized circumstances. She cried out, her fingers tightening against his scalp. But the swirl of his tongue soothed the painful pinch and heat washed across her skin.

  His hand slipped between their bodies, swept across her abdomen then lower. He cupped her sensitive feminine flesh, pressing fingertips to her moistened folds. She lifted her hips into his palm as need burned. Obliging her silent demand, Merrick slid a finger inside until the base of his palm pressed against her sensitive nub. Anne gasped at the taunting friction. She wriggled her hips, chasing the surge of ecstasy.

  Abruptly, Merrick withdrew his hand and his mouth. Lifting to his elbows, he caught her face between his palms and gazed down at her. His dark eyes filled with intensity. When he spoke, his hoarse whisper filled her to overflowing. “I have no right to ask, but swear to me you will never forget me.”

  She closed her eyes to the tears that swelled and swallowed hard. “Never,” she whispered.

  He nudged her thighs apart and entered her slowly. Pushing deep, she felt every thick inch of him fill her up and stretch her perfectly.

  His body glided in and out of hers, steady, unhurried thrusts that awakened far more than physical pleasure. The familiar tide of sensation built with the pleasant friction, but it was different too. Not so much a quest for ultimate pleasure, but a rising storm of feeling Anne couldn’t comprehend. It flowed from him, into her, and caught her on a crest so high she trembled at its ferocity.

  Love, she realized. He loved her. She recognized it in his kiss, tasted it on the velvety stroke of his tongue. Felt it in the reverent slide of his skin against hers. The discovery stole the breath from her lungs.

  Ecstasy slammed into her, and the building tide of emotion crested. “Merrick, I—”

  He silenced her with a possessive kiss as he thrust in deep and hard. Her body arced, and Anne surrendered to a staggering release. She hung suspended in his embrace, shaking as layer after layer of sensation slammed into her.

  Merrick’s body stiffened. Deep within her, she felt him shudder, a tremor that rolled up his spine and coursed into his arms. He lifted his mouth from hers on a ragged gasp, then went utterly still.

  Slowly, dark lashes lifted. His onyx eyes burned fierce. He lowered himself against her, his weight a welcome comfort. Unable to form words, they lay together in silence, the jagged sound of their breathing blending in the quiet.

  When their shared gasps leveled into a somewhat normal rhythm, Merrick gathered her into the shelter of his strong arms. His mouth dusted across her shoulder, settled at the side of her neck. He ran a roughened palm down one arm, found her hand, and twined his fingers through hers, whispering, “If such were possible, I would wish my seed to sprout tonight.”

  Anne shivered. She could think of nothing that could complete their loving more than a child. If he refused to leave with her, she would always have a piece of Merrick to remind her of these stolen nights together. But immortal knights couldn’t father children, and the wish was strictly fancy.

  CHAPTER 31

  Anne rolled over, seeking Merrick’s warmth. The gray light of morning seeped through the curtains, announcing the winter chill carried rain. She ran a hand down the hardened planes of his chest and traced the long scar that ran around his side with a nail. His skin jumped beneath the light touch, his belly tightened.

  Tipping her chin up, Anne found him watching her. Beneath the heavy pile of quilts, one large hand found her bottom, and he pulled her against his side. “Good morn,” he murmured.

  “Mm. Good morning.” She ran her fingertip over the crease in his smooth skin again. “What happened to you, Merrick?”

  His torso turned rigid beneath her palm, and he turned his head to the window. The all-too-familiar tick crawled along the side of his jaw.

  “Hey.” She gave him a gentle nudge. “I’m not trying to bring up bad memories. I want to know more about you.”

  Merrick let out a long, heavy sigh. “’Tis too long a story.”

  Determined, Anne lifted to an elbow and planted a kiss on the large vein that ran the length of his throat. “I have all morning.” She dragged her teeth down his neck to give his shoulder a playful nip. With a provocative wriggle of her hips, she promised, “I’ll make it worth the telling.” Besides, she could think of no better way to soften him to the discussion that would likely bring them to blows.

  Merrick turned to her with a tight frown. But when she draped her body across his, and slipped a hand beneath the covers to take his cock into her hand, his mouth quirked, and a chuckle broke free. She felt him swell and quickly dislodged her hand.

  “Little demon, cease your games,” he threatened.

  Anne rained kisses across his chest. “Tell me what I want to know.”

  Laughing freely now, Merrick rolled her over, pinned her to the mattress, and kissed her thoroughly. “How is it you take the ache away?” he asked quietly. Before she could answer, he propped himself up on an elbow. “Very well. ’Tis only fair, I do suppose.”

  “Tell me how you became a Templar knight.”

  He arched a dark eyebrow. “You ask for much.”

  “So did you when you dragged me out of my house.”

  His grunt made her giggle.

  “All right, demon Anne. Tell me what you know of Geoffrey Martel.”

  Anne scoured her brain, digging for names she had little cause to remember. The French territories were so vast, had changed hands so many times and shared a dozen different ties that crossed and recrossed between families, it was like one big jigsaw puzzle. “He was the count of Anjou, allied with King Henry I against William of Normandy and had a bunch of wives. Right?”

  Merrick nodded. “Only he sired no heirs. He bequeathed his holdings to his oldest nephew, Geoffrey the Bearded.”

  Anne propped herself up with a pillow, her interest piqued. “The Bearded fought with his brother, right?”

  “Aye. Fulk le Rechin coveted the inheritance, and seven years later, he imprisoned his brother at Sable. Pope Gregory II demanded Geoffrey’s release, and all seemed quiet in the country for a short time.”

  “Forgive me, Merrick, but I’ve forgotten the details. I’m sorry.” Anne ducked her head with a blush.

  “’Tis understood. Fulk imprisoned my father again, a year later at Chinon. There he stayed for twenty-eight years. He died shortly after his release.”

  It took a moment for Anne to realize what Merrick had said. As the dawning settled on her, her lips parted in surprise. “Your father?” she gasped.

  “Aye. My uncle imprisoned all who swore loyalty to my father. According to law, my mother, the blooded heir of two formerly royal families, was naught but a peasant. She cared for my father whilst he was in prison. They would have wed, had my father lived long enough. When I was conceived, he sent her from Chinon to keep my uncle from discovering me.”

  Anne stared, dumbfounded. A noble bastard. His blood gave him the right to join the Templars, his birth condemned him. Her heart twisted, envisioning the young life he must have suffered. She reached betw
een them and took his hand. “Merrick, I’m so sorry.”

  Bristling, he withdrew his hand. “Nay. I will finish before you give me pity. ’Tis unnecessary.” He ran his fingers through his mussed hair and heaved a sigh. “We lived in a small village near the Loire. I could see Chinon from my doorstep. There were several men in my village who once bore arms for my father. They took me in their tutelage, taught me the ways of swords and horses. Though ’twas forbidden to own weapons, we hid them beneath the floors, and my lessons were oft at night.”

  Unable to offer comfort she sensed he needed despite his staunch pride, Anne snuggled into his embrace and linked her leg through his. Merrick dropped his arm around her waist and held her close.

  “I joined with those who opposed my uncle. It mattered not what fight, so long as I could hold the hope of taking his life. There were victories, there were losses, but my mother’s health demanded my return. I was thirty-two, and some ten years earlier a baron of Fulk’s had forced himself on my mother for rents she owed. She never recovered. She died that year. After I sent her body down the Loire, I sought her distant family, de Payans.”

  “And rode to Jerusalem.”

  “Aye.”

  Anne lay quiet, absorbing his tale. Treachery, betrayal, the severed bonds of family, vows thrown to the wind—no wonder the man put so much weight in oaths. He’d known nothing but deceit. The full weight of his birthright wasn’t lost on her either. Almost two hundred years later, the mighty fortress at Chinon would hold his sworn brethren on charges of treason and heresy.

  She’d deceived him too. Was deceiving him still, albeit in a rather benign way compared to his past.

  Swallowing rising guilt, she ran her fingertip down the length of his scar. “And this?” she whispered.

  He covered her hand, stilling it. “The price I would pay for defending the Almighty. King Philip’s eternal brand.”