Seven

Sydney awoke late that afternoon in the room she had left nearly thirty-three hours before. Nicholas had wanted to give her a larger room, but she had remained firm that she would have the same small room. She would pay him back the ten thousand dollars, she told herself, plus the cost of the room and board. To owe Nicholas Charron anything might prove too costly. The emotional interest alone could bankrupt her.

Yet she had come back with him.

And although it was true that he was giving her a second chance to win the money that she needed for her father—and for that chance alone she would have done almost anything—there was so much more involved in her decision to accept Nicholas’s offer, and she knew it.

He waited beautifully. And he watched. And he seemed to know that deep inside her, emotions were churning and building.

He wasn’t a cold man; he was just a guarded man. She knew all about guarding. She had fought all her life to conquer her stutter. He, on the other hand, had spoken of death and suffering.

He was a man who walked the night, because daylight was too bright and memories were too harsh.

Surrendering to him would be to be wrapped in night. But there were stars at night, scintillatingly bright, she reminded herself. And some nights were so soft and sensual, they seemed made of velvet.

* * *

The gambling was going well, Sydney reflected as she made her way back to her room for a respite. Time was too short for caution now, and this evening she had played all out. Of course, the luck of the cards decreed that she lose a certain number of hands, but her mind was clear, her resolve strong, and she had no doubt she would win the money she needed.

She inserted the key into the door and started to push it open.

“So, you’re back.”

She turned to find Mike, but a different Mike from the one she had seen before. Gone was his easygoing smile. Gone was the twinkle in his green eyes that she had grown so used to. The man standing before her was rigid with fury, and menace was written in every line of his body.

“Mike, what’s wrong?”

“You might well ask. What was it, Sydney—a power play—leaving the island to see if Nick would follow you? You knew he would.”

“Mike, I’m sorry, but I have no Idea what you’re talking about.”

“First of all, you lied to me. It wasn’t like the first time you left. You never intended coming back, did you? When I inquired at the front desk, I found that you had checked out.”

“I’m sorry. I admit I misled you, but it was important that I leave. I knew that you would wake up Nicholas if I told you I was leaving for good.”

Her apology did nothing to appease him. “And that wouldn’t have suited your purposes, would it? You had to lure him off the island.”

Her brow pleated in bewilderment. “Lure? Mike, I had no idea Nicholas would come after me. You have to believe me. And I think you’d better tell me exactly why you’re so angry.”

Mike studied her closely for a moment, obviously trying to make up his mind about something. “Don’t you know? Didn’t he tell you?”

“Tell me what?”

“Sydney, Nick put himself in serious danger by going after you.”

“D-d-danger! What are you talking about?”

“If he didn’t tell you, then he’s not going to appreciate my giving you the details. All I’ll say is that he was warned not to leave the island. I can protect him as long as he stays here.” His face twisted grimly. “When I found out that he had gone after you, I nearly had a heart attack.”

“I had no idea.”

“Okay, I believe you, and I suppose I owe you an apology. But, Sydney, don’t leave the island again. It’s imperative that Nick stay where I can protect him.”

“Mike, I have no power over what Nicholas does or doesn’t do.”

Mike’s hard green eyes swept over her. “Don’t you?”

* * *

When some ten minutes later she opened the door of her bedroom to Nicholas, the shock of what Mike had told her was still plainly etched on her face.

Nicholas had only to take one look at her. “What’s wrong? I was watching you earlier and you were winning.”

“I did. It’s not that. Nicholas, Mike says you put yourself in danger by leaving the island to bring me back.”

His dark brows drew together. “Mike says far too much.”

“But is it true?”

He sat down and crossed one elegantly clad leg over the other. “Perhaps. But Mike takes his job too seriously. He’s protected me for so long, he forgets I can take care of myself.”

She dropped to the edge of the bed so that she could be close to him. “Nicholas, what is this danger? Why are you supposed to stay on the island?”

He smiled. “It seems I’m always telling you not to worry. Not,” he added dryly, “that it seems to do much good. But in this case, please believe there really is nothing to worry about.”

She crossed her arms. “Once again, Nicholas, you’re not answering my question.”

He eyed her thoughtfully. “And is it important to you that I do?”

“Yes, very.”

He lit a cigarette. “Very well. I will tell you a little story.” He gazed at the burning tip of his cigarette for a moment. “Some years ago I was captain of my own ship and involved in smuggling valuable art out of China during a time when, due to the political climate of the country, art was being destroyed. I had a rival, a very beautiful, intelligent rival, named Mandarin. She was at least as good as I was, and although she managed to slip away with treasures I had set my heart on, I didn’t mind too much. I respected her, and after all, there was plenty for everyone. We each were managing to accumulate large fortunes.”

He blew a heavy stream of smoke into the air. “As the fates would have it, Mandarin fell in love with my second-in-command, Josh. Josh was also my best friend. We played on the streets of Chicago together, and we tramped through the Jungles of Southeast Asia together. But somewhere along the line, something twisted inside of Josh and never righted. It happened slowly, before my eyes, and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it... except be there for him.

“Then one bright, sunshine-filled day, a trap was set for Mandarin and for me. I was lucky enough to escape, but Mandarin was caught and put in prison behind the bamboo curtain. For ten years I’ve worked to get her out, and I’ve finally succeeded.”

Sydney slowly let out the breath she hadn’t been aware of holding. “That’s an incredible story.”

His mouth twisted. “It isn’t just a story. It was my life.”

“I know, and that makes it all the more incredible. But I still don’t understand. Why are you in danger now?”

“Simple. Mandarin thinks I’m the one who betrayed her and set that trap. Mandarin has sworn vengeance against me. If she had my respect as a rival privateer, she certainly has my respect as an enemy. She’ll be deadly.”

“You didn’t betray her, did you.” It was said quietly, a statement.

His dark brown eyes shimmered with feeling as they rested on her. “Thank you. And no, I didn’t. Josh did.”

She gasped. “Your best friend!”

“And Mandarin’s lover. But Mandarin never knew, and the lady hates well. And now she’s discovered an additional reason for hating me. Besides thinking that I set that trap, she also thinks I killed Josh.” His voice dropped to almost a whisper. “She doesn’t know that I would rather have given my life than have something happen to him.”

Nicholas’s pain was great. He handled it well. He concealed it well. But Sydney heard, and she had to fight back the tears she wanted to cry for him. “What really happened?”

He ground out his cigarette. “I suppose no one will ever know for sure. The best information I can get is that the Chinese agents—the same people who promised Josh a great deal of money for the capture of Mandarin and me—killed him.”

Sydney was stunned. And she knew that nothing she could possibly say would come close to being adequate.

He stood and pulled her up with him. “So now you know, Sydney. But that knowledge alters nothing between us. You’re a woman capable of great compassion and sympathy, and your golden eyes are telling me that this is what you’re feeling for me. But once again, I must tell you that I don’t want your compassion or your sympathy.”

With his hands on her arms and his body so close to hers, Sydney’s blood began to stir. He was right. Instinctively she had wanted to take him in her arms and comfort him. But he was a man who wanted no comfort.

Instead, he wanted what she had given no man before. Her passion. And in spite of her doubts, excitement began to climb inside her.

Then his mouth covered hers with deep hunger, and the kiss felt so right to her. His hands claimed her; her arms went around him. Mind and body, she returned the kiss, her mind spinning, her body pulsing.

She was aware that every time he took her into his arms, she was able to retain less and less control over her clamoring emotions. And she was aware that she was on the brink of being taken over completely by a fire so hot that it couldn’t help but consume her.

But what could she do?

Nicholas felt her yielding. If she had been any other woman, he would have taken her then. But this was Sydney. And suddenly he knew that if he could give her nothing else, he would give her honesty. He managed to pull away, but he couldn’t manage to take his hands off her.

His voice came roughly to her. “Sydney, I’m not sure I have the ability to love. I think I possessed that ability once, but I don’t think I do anymore. I only know that with every day that passes, my need for you, my feeling for you, seems to wind tighter and tighter into me, becoming part of me, until I can’t draw a breath without wanting you to be there by my side to share that breath. I want you, Sydney Delaney, but you must want me equally. You must come to me.”

And then he left her, and Sydney stood in the middle of her room, feeling bereft and shaken.

* * *

The swans had seemed to call to her tonight, and Sydney had come. Standing atop the sunroof of Nicholas’s Glass Palace three floors up, she had an unrestricted view of the island, the lagoon, and the swans.

Gazing around, she wondered why she had never come up here before. It was a wonderful place, with plants and lounge chairs, tables and umbrellas. There was even a telescope set up so that the guests could bring the distant wonders of the island closer to them.

Yet tonight she had the roof all to herself. For most people, she was sure, would be in their rooms dressing for the evening ahead.

Feeling the swans pulling at her, though, she had dressed early and in one of her favorite gowns. It was of a bittersweet red silk that oddly enough blended magnificently with her unusual hair and warmed the ivory tone of her skin. The bodice would remind most people of a pinafore, but that’s where any resemblance to a little girl’s dress ended. It was true that the neckline demurely grazed her collarbone, but the back plunged to her waist, and the straps of the same material and color went over her shoulders to crisscross twice down her bare back.

Her gaze was drawn back to the swans. She wanted to see them fly tonight, and she wanted to see where they went. Now they sailed majestically on a gleaming amethyst lagoon, but soon she knew they would take flight into the remarkable golden-pink sky above them.

Curiosity drew Sydney to the telescope. Through it the swans appeared so close it seemed she could touch them. She swung the telescope around, scanning the island, the rain forest, and beyond, to the wild side of the island.

But then she heard the bell. She lifted her head and listened as it rang... once... twice... three times. As before, the swans stirred, then lifted their wings to the soft evening air. Sydney’s heart lodged in her throat as she followed their flight. Their graceful black bodies were outlined against the pink sky as they circled above her, then headed toward the other side of the island.

She lowered her head back to the telescope, intent on seeing exactly where the swans were headed. As she swept the scope back and forth, she could see nothing at first but a blur of vivid colors and green forest. Gradually, though, by keeping an eye on the birds and their path across the sky, she began to concentrate on one area. It became clearer. She could pick out details. Then she saw.

There, on a headland, jutting out over the untamed sea, a house stood, rising from the rocky promontory. She almost missed it, so naturally did it fit into its surroundings. She might even have missed the T-shaped post and the large bell hanging from it. But she could never have missed the man. He was standing on a wooden deck beside the bell, dressed in a tuxedo, his head thrown back, looking up at the sky.

The man was Nicholas.

And he had called the swans to him.

For a moment Sydney felt weak. She pulled away from the glass and rested her forehead against the metal body of the telescope.

Lord. He had rung the bell, and the swans, wild creatures that they were, had flown to him. And they did this every night!

He didn’t cage them.

But he commanded them.

They trusted him.

She raised her head to gaze through the glass again. Just in time to see the swans settle onto a lagoon in front of Nicholas.

His gaze was pensive as he watched them. His hands were inserted into the pockets of the tuxedo’s pants. Standing so still and alone, unaware that she watched, he nevertheless had the ability to make her ache with desire for him.

What could she do? she asked herself.

What could she do about a man so dark in spirit he kept himself apart from all but a very few people?

What could she do about a man so sensitive that for ten years he had bled inside for friends lost?

What could she do about a man so formidable and powerful that he required an island of his own and a strike force of men to surround him?

What could she do? She could love him.

She could love him for as hard and as long as he would allow. It would be a time in heaven, a time in hell.

And she was going to him.

* * *

She raced out of the hotel, the red silk of her gown flying around her. And as always, Sai seemed to be there when she wanted him.

“Sai, I need to get to the other side of the island. I need to go to Nicholas. Can you help me?”

As usual, his black eyes regarded her without expression. Yet this time, for the first time, he spoke. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m completely sure.”

Without another word he turned and led her toward a parking lot and a Jeep with a silver and gray canopy. “Take the path at the back of the hotel and follow it.” He withdrew a set of keys and handed them to her. “Good journey, Sydney.”

She realized that he was talking about more than the trip across the island. “Thank you.”

It was not night yet, but the rain forest allowed very little light. As she drove, she remembered that Nicholas had walked along this very path just before dawn. She at least had the headlights of the Jeep. He hadn’t even carried a flashlight. He must have eyes like a cat, she concluded. But then, he was very used to the dark.

There was a smell of dampness all around her. Occasionally she would hear the sound of running water over the noise of the engine of the Jeep and knew she was close to a stream or a waterfall. Now and again the headlights would pick out cords of orchids twining through the trees, and she could hear the laughter of a kookaburra.

Then, ahead of her, through a wall of leaves, she saw light—not much really. Just a lighter shade of darkness—and she knew she had nearly reached Nicholas.

She broke free of the rain forest to a pink sky producing its last glow. The lagoon now populated by the swans was almost directly in front of her. She circled it and pulled to a stop at the bottom of the path that led up to the house.

She turned the key and listened. On this side of the island the surf was louder. Waves rolled across miles of ocean, unbroken by a fringe of reef, stopping only when they crashed onto the beach below Nicholas’s house. But as loud as the surf was, she could barely hear the waves over the pounding of her heart. To her ears the pounding of her heart sounded like thunder.

She got out and took in her surroundings—the lush lagoon, the swans. Then slowly she lifted her eyes to the deck... and to Nicholas.

His stance was no longer casual. His arms were leaning on the railing, his body was rigid, and he was staring down at her, those dark eyes of his intense. Then suddenly he wheeled to move quickly down the steps. And she went to meet him.

Surprisingly he stopped an arm’s length away from her. Yet even from that distance she could feel the heat of his need for her, and she was reassured.

“Are you totally certain?” he asked.

“Yes.” Her lips curved shyly. “But you’re going to have to help me, Nicholas. I’m not sure... I’ll be able to... completely let go.”

He stepped to her and with a great gentleness cupped her face. “You’ll have to, Sydney. You won’t have any choice, because I won’t let you give me anything less than everything you have, everything you are.”

The trembling began. She had known it would be like this—the fear and the anticipation of the unknown. Giving herself to this dark, powerful man would be the biggest gamble of her life.

Then there was no more time for fear, for Nicholas scooped her into his arms and began walking toward his house.

She couldn’t have said what his house was like. Later there would be time to find out. She was being carried in his arms and that was all she needed to know for now. It seemed to her, though, that they passed through several rooms, and then they were in the bedroom.

He set her on her feet, and she received the twin impressions of spaciousness and darkness, right before he placed a hard kiss on her lips.

“Stay here,” he murmured. Her gaze followed him as he moved around the room, lighting tall white candles. Slowly the room filled with a golden illumination, and she could pick things out. A glass ceiling sloped above her. And in the middle of the room the bed rested on a high platform and was surrounded by white gauze mosquito netting.

She reached to begin unfastening the straps of her dress, but his voice stopped her. “I want to undress you.”

So he came to her and began to do just that—slowly and with exquisite care, until the bodice of her dress fell to her waist.

“Here.” Her hand went to the back of her waist. “The catch is here.” She was nervous and it showed in the too quick movement and in the shakiness of her voice.

His hand clasped hers. “Shhh. I told you. I want to do it myself.” His voice flowed over her like satin sliding over raw skin, soothing, yet enticing.

With a flick of his fingers the dress was unhooked and it slipped to the floor around her feet. Left standing in only her panties, she stepped out of her shoes and the dress with one motion.

“You are so beautiful.” The words were uttered on one long breath. The back of his hand slid down her throat and across the creamy skin of her breast, and his eyes followed the path of his hand. “I will not bruise you,” he murmured solemnly.

Whether he was talking about bruises to her skin or to her soul, she did not know. And it did not matter. For she was sure that however many bruises and scars she would receive from this relationship, it would be worth it.

Smiling, she reached for his tie and undid it. “Now it’s my turn to tell you not to worry.” His jacket fell to the floor to join her dress. The studs in his shirt came out next. But there she stopped, for in all the time she had spent with him, she had never seen his chest. Dark hair matted across it, and she touched her fingers to the springy texture with wonder. Her lips followed. And in his chest a growl rumbled.

He raised her face to his. “To teach you the art of love will require patience, Sydney, but I’m impatient. My wait for you has been interminable, and I can’t promise you anything if you persist in doing things like that.”

“But I want to touch you.”

“And I want to touch you. Now.”

Once again he lifted her off her feet, this time to carry her up the steps to the bed. He parted the filmy netting and lay her down, and her arms reached for him, but he said, “Wait.”

Without haste he discarded his clothes. By candlelight his skin gleamed bronze.

“I want you,” she whispered, and he heard.

He came down beside her, and then they were enclosed in a soft white haze of gauze, and through the gauze, glimmers of golden flames danced around them. It was all so perfect.

But when his mouth touched hers, she froze.

She had thought she was ready. She knew it was what she wanted. But the reality of lying nearly naked on the bed with Nicholas was too much too fast.

“It’s all right,” he whispered, stroking her hair until it lay like a pool of spilled wine around her head. “We’re going to take this slow, and we’ll stop anytime you say.”

Her hand touched his face. “B-b-but I don’t want to stop.”

“All right then.”

His breath touched her lips before his mouth did. Yet, when she felt pressure against her bottom lip, she realized it was his tongue running across the fleshy center. Her lips parted for his tongue just as his hand cupped her breast. She inhaled sharply, then felt the strength and warmth of his body press against the length of her side.

He knew how to touch. He knew how to kiss. He knew how to make her respond, and she did. When he would have pulled his mouth from hers, she brought him back with a hand around his neck.

As he supported himself on one elbow, his hand rested on her forehead and the fingertips of his other hand pressed into the softness of her breast. He soothed even as he aroused.

After a while his mouth left hers and traveled to the underside of her breast. Tantalizing kisses were placed with the greatest of care to the sensitive skin there. Every portion of her breasts were touched by his hand, then kissed. The kisses were soft as a brush of a butterfly’s wings in contrast to the rhythmic pressure of his fingers that increased by infinitesimal degrees. Every portion of her breasts was covered, first one, then the other, except for that part she was beginning to crave for him to touch. Her nipples.

She thought he could do no more. She thought his mouth would have to close over her nipple. Now!

She was wrong.

He opened his mouth wider and raked his teeth across the soft mounds, back and forth, back and forth, until her upper body bowed off the bed.

“You’re clenching your fists,” he murmured against her skin.

Was she? She hadn’t even been aware of it. But she felt him gently open her hand and then his fingers entwined with hers.

“There, you see?” he crooned. “There’s nothing at all to clench your fist over. Not yet, at any rate.”

“N-N-Nicholas...”

“Shhh. It’s all right.”

She had no idea what she had wanted to say, but she knew she hadn’t intended to stutter. She would have to be more careful. She would have to think first before she spoke. But thinking was abandoned when his mouth briefly touched hers before returning to her breast.

His tongue licked at the nipple, playing with it, teasing it and her. And his fingers took the bud and rolled it back and forth. He did everything but take the tight peak into his mouth. The ache in her stomach built excruciatingly. If he would only lay his mouth over the nipple.

“N-N-Nicholas...” Damn, she had stammered again! She had to be more careful.

Finally, and at last, his mouth took the nipple, and she wanted to cry out with relief and pleasure, but this time she remained quiet.

“Talk to me, Sydney. Tell me what you want.”

She wanted to talk to him, God knew. She wanted to give him everything. Yet, in spite of what she wanted, she stayed silent. After all, he had her emotions speeding along like a roller coaster, twisting and turning, exciting and alternately soothing. She didn’t know where he was going to take her next.

By remaining silent, she could handle these turbulent emotions, she told herself. She could have the pleasure of the lovemaking and still retain her control. It would be better that way.

And Nicholas would never know, she told herself, for certainly she was responding.

“You’re holding back,” he murmured as his fingers tightened around her other nipple.

How did he know? she wondered even as she once again arched to his mouth.

His hand slid down her stomach to the band of her panties and beneath.

Oh, Lord, the feelings! So many, piling one on top of the other, so potent.

“Let go, Sydney. Trust me. Let go.”

He would never know how badly she wanted to let go. She really did. But she didn’t want to stutter anymore. Not with Nicholas, not the first time they made love.

“Talk to me,” he whispered, whisking her panties off. Then his fingers delved lower, through the nest of curls, and lower, to the opening where heat pulsed. “Does this feel good?”

She arched. “Oh-oh-oh... yes!”

“Good, good. How about this?” He pressed his finger against the spot that seemed to need his touch the most, and she couldn’t believe the feelings that sparked out from the single touch.

All she could do was sigh her words. “Oh-oh-oh, Lord, N-N-Nicholas!”

“And I know that this will feel good.” His finger began to move in tiny circles.

“Ahhh...”

She writhed as the pleasure rose inside her, like a wave, forming and reforming, gaining power and momentum as it went, looking for a shore on which to spend itself.

Then his finger dipped inside her, and his teeth gently closed around a nipple. At the same time, she felt his other hand stroke her forehead. There was no help for her. She could only feel and listen.

“You’re going to do it, Sydney. You’re going to give yourself completely to me, and when that happens, a whole new world will open for you. And I’ll be there, making you feel things you never thought possible, taking you places you never knew existed, doing things to you that you’ve only dreamed about.”

Pressure here, a slide of his finger across there. A nibble into soft skin, a bite of sweetness, a kiss of urgent hunger. She was losing her mind. She was losing control. And she didn’t care.

She didn’t care, because she was on fire, and a force had taken over her body—passion in its purest and most unyielding form.

It was with relief that she felt Nicholas slide inside her. But the relief lasted only moments, because he began to thrust into her with long, powerful strokes. She clung and moved and cried out, but he didn’t relent. He was the one with control now, urging her onward and upward, with ever-increasing pressure into her, until...

Nicholas!”

... together they soared like the black swans.