The Rebel King

Chapter 11

Rhia stared at him, stared at him so hard her eyes burned, as if his image were being laser-printed on her retinas. Memories… Her whole body ached with the thought: That's all I will have of you, too, one day… soon.

And then, through the blur of unshed tears, she saw the pain in his shadowed eyes. She hadn't believed it possible to hurt more than she already did, but in that moment her own sense of grief felt as if it had doubled. Oh, selfish Rhee! Thinking only of your own loss. Talking about your own past. What about his? This day, this trip, this time-it's for him, not you!

She placed her hand over the bigger one that lay warm on her cheek and whispered brokenly. "I do have memories. But you don't. You don't have anything of your-"

"Hush…" His voice sounded harsh, even angry. "Can't miss what you've never had."

They both knew it was a lie.

She started to say something-to tell him so, maybe-but his mouth came down and she let it take hers, so desperately, achingly glad to have him touching her that nothing else mattered. I'll have this, at least, she thought, and as she opened her mouth to him she gathered the memory up and tucked it away in her heart like a greedy child hiding candy.

Was it just her natural gift of empathy that made her respond to his kiss like dry tinder to a match, Nikolas wondered, or could she possibly be as hungry for him as he for her?

What did it matter? He only felt the burn of it, the heat of her body colliding with his as she turned in his arms and reached for him… the sting and sizzle of her fingers on his skin as she half lay across his lap, her mouth surging up to his, meeting the rhythmic thrusts of his tongue with little whimpering pulses of her own. Desire-his need of her-ripped through his body with cruel force, doubling him over like a bad cramp. A groan slipped unguarded from his throat.

Rhia tore her mouth from his and gasped, "Nik, what-"

But he caught her to him, hid her face against his throat and whispered hoarsely, "Nothing…nothing, my love. I just want you so badly…" It wasn't what he wanted to say.

She could feel his body shaking with silent, rueful laughter. "I want you, too." she whispered back, shaking, too. though not with laughter.

"This is insane…" But his hand dove under her jacket, plucked her shirt free from the waistband of her pants, and then his fingers were thrusting beneath it and spreading urgently over her flesh…and the abrasion felt so sweet and good it made her want to weep. "I feel like a bloody teenager."

"Nik, we're on the damn stairs. We'd prob'ly kill ourselves." She was laughing now. clinging to him. spotting his shirtfront with her tears.

"And I, for one, would die blissfully happy."

"And…Elliot's going to be back any minute."

A heavy groan rumbled from his chest. "Woman, you are entirely too practical-minded for my-" He stopped.

As tuned to his moods as she was. she felt the change in him instantly. She tensed and drew back to look at him. "What? Nikolas?"

He was looking over her head. his expression a study in conflicting emotions. His eyes flicked down at her and he smiled, if somewhat crookedly. "I don't think Elliot's going to be coming for a while." He nodded toward the front of the hall.

She lay back in his arms and turned her head reluctantly to follow his gaze. "What…"

"Look at the stained-glass window. The light's gone."

"It can't be that late." She was struggling to sit up.

"It isn't, dear heart. We appear to be fogbound."

"You're kidding." She was squirming in his embrace, trying to reach the cell phone on her belt.

"Trust me," he said, "if there's one thing I know about, it's fog." There was a cryptic note of irony in his voice.

She paused…stared at him, thinking she should feel dismay, trying hard not to grin, understanding fully the ambiguous look on his face. "So…" she said in a low voice, thoughtfully weighing the slender device in her hand, "you're saying we're stuck here? As in…stranded?"

He gave her a sideways look and nodded. "Uh-huh. For the night, at least."

"Bummer," she said somberly. And deliberately tucked the phone back into its case.

He caught her to him, taking her breath away, his laughter gusting into her hair. Then, for a few minutes they simply held each other, rocking slightly, laughing in wonder at the unexpected gift they'd been given. A gift of time, Rhia thought… like happening upon a lovely little tropical island in a sea of chaos.

When the laughter died, finally, they drew back and looked at each other. Just…looked. Nikolas let his fingers trail down the side of her face, tracing the curve of her cheek…the velvety line of her jaw…the incredibly, impossibly perfect shape of her mouth. And he shook his head, dazed to silence by the enormity of what he felt inside.

"What?" She was gazing at him, her eyes as guarded as he knew his must be.

"Nothing," he murmured. "It's just that you're so damned beautiful."

She gave a tiny squeak of laughter, and laid her fingertips against his lips, reverently, the way people do when they petition a saint. "I think you're beautiful, too."

He closed his eyes and exhaled gustily. "God, I want to kiss you so badly. But if I do, I'm absolutely certain I won't stop, and intriguing as the idea of making love to you on the stairs of Vladimir's castle might be… I think we'd better find a place to spend the night while we can still see our hands before our faces."

There was a long pause during which neither of them moved. Nikolas kissed her nose and said tenderly. "Rhee- my dearest-I need you to be strong and get up, because I don't think I can bring myself to let go of you otherwise."

"Me! What makes you think I'm stronger than you are?" Her eyes narrowed. "What about that legendary willpower of yours?"

He snorted. "Evidently I have none whatsoever where you're concerned. All right, then-we'll do this together. Ready? One… two…"

Separating from him left her feeling cold, as if she'd gotten thoroughly chilled and would never be completely warm again. And shaky…hideously vulnerable-an appalling weakness she tried to hide from Nikolas by pretending not to notice the helping hand he offered, busying herself gathering up snack papers and brushing off cracker crumbs instead. Fooling no one. Wondering, as she handed him the unopened tin of shortbread cookies and the half-eaten bag of Cheese Doodles, what had happened to her appetite. Now, she was hungry for nothing at all except him.

It grew lighter as they climbed the stairs, pale gray light from curtainless windows spilling from open doorways all along the landing. In the large common rooms nearest the stairs. Rhia caught glimpses of stepladders and draping drop-cloths, and smelled the faint but unmistakable odor of fresh paint. Farther down the landing, though, shadowy hallways led to wings that housed the private rooms, where the work of renovation hadn't commenced yet. They poked their heads into all of them, while Nikolas provided commentary and hurried them from one to the next like a tour guide in desperate need of a bathroom break.

"Bedroom…bedroom…hmm, with adjoining sitting room. I see-and a dressing room as well… Lovely. This would be the nursery. I suppose. And a schoolroom-what fun. Hmm… bathrooms seem to be in rather short supply, don't they? Ah- what do we have here?"

He had opened the last door, which seemed to be wider than the rest. As Rhia caught up with him. he pushed it back and strode into the room like the returning lord of the manor. "The master suite, I believe. What do you think, my love? Will this do?" He turned to smile at her, a strange tense smile that showed his teeth but didn't reach his eyes.

"Do? This room is bigger than my whole apartment." Rhia muttered as she wandered past him. threading her way among the shrouded furniture shapes to the tall multipaned windows that graced two adjoining walls. A corner room, obviously. The view would be breathtaking, she thought, without the fog.

She heard a thump behind her, and turned to see that Nikolas had dropped the duffel bag onto a sheet-draped chair. Before she could stop him, he had energetically whisked the dust sheets off the bed-typical man!-sending a small dust blizzard into the air. They both erupted in laughing, coughing fits, and Rhia was about to choke out a teasing remark of some kind-Good job, Donovan!-when he suddenly went still. Simply froze, with the back of one hand touching his mouth and his eyes staring over it at something she couldn't see. Something near the foot of the bed.

"What is it?" She pushed her way back to him through the shapeless mounds of furniture, heart already quickening, nerves and senses snapping to full attention.

The shocked and frozen look on his face was the same one she'd seen there when the king's guard had carried in the chest that held the proof of his identity.

She touched his hand-not surprised to find it cold as ice-and said softly. "Nik, what's wrong?"

Instead of answering, he moved slowly toward the foot of the bed. which was the old-fashioned kind, small in width by modern standards, but so high it would require steps to get in and out of easily, with four tall posts and a canopy frame soaring toward the shadowed ceiling. It was made of some kind of dark wood, maybe mahogany? And in a style Rhia- no expert-thought might be Queen Anne. At the foot of the bed was a large chest, made of different wood than the bed- cedar, surely-and studded and bound with brass, probably meant to store blankets and comforters during the warm summer months. It was much bigger than the chest King Weston had shown them, the chest that held the proof of Nikolas's identity. But even Rhia could see that it had been crafted by the same hands.

Slowly, as if it were some sort of alien and possibly dangerous artifact. Nikolas reached out his hand to touch the chest's vaulted lid. "I thought maybe…I had hoped…" he murmured as he watched his fingers brush settling dust from the intricately inlaid wood. A smile tugged painfully and unsuccessfully at his lips, and he finally just shook his head. "I thought there was a chance, at least…that it could have been someone else who put it there, in the old pavilion. Someone who simply happened by and thought it would make a convenient hiding place…" He looked at her then, and the pain in his eyes struck her like a blow. "You know?"

She shook her head, bewildered and obscurely frightened. "No. I don't," she said flatly, folding her arms to keep them from reaching for him. tapping her foot like an angry wife. "I don't know because you haven't told me, Nikolas. What is it, dammit? What was it about that chest-and now this one- that has you looking like…like…I don't know-like you've seen a ghost?"

He exhaled, drew a hand over his face and slowly lowered himself onto the chest. "A ghost? Maybe I have, at that." Again, he tried to smile. "Except…I don't think inanimate objects can have ghosts, can they?"

"Dammit, Donovan-"

"Rhee… my love." He reached for her hands and drew her to him. guiding her between his knees as his eyes roamed her face with a tenderness that made her ache. "Don't you know, it's not because I want to keep this from you that I haven't told you. It's just…difficult for me to talk about it at all, you see. I think…because saying it out loud…saying the words…makes it real." His eyes held hers as his legs pressed inward, locking her hips between them. His hands slipped under her jacket and skimmed upward along the sides of her waist. "Then, once I've said it, I can't keep dodging around it any longer. Do you understand?"

When she nodded, he released a breath that sounded like a pressure valve letting go. closed his eyes and drew her close. And he seemed to relax then…like someone walking into his home after a long hard day. She stared past him into the deepening twilight until her eyes burned, fighting a powerful desire to weave her fingers through his hair and cradle his head against her breasts. Instead, she gripped his shoulders hard and said very softly. "Do you understand that if you don't tell me this instant, I will strangle you?"

He drew back from her. laughing, sounding like himself again, as if holding her for just those short minutes had recharged him. "Ah-my little pit bull terrier. Yes. All right then." He caught a quick, exaggerated breath and said with a lightness that didn't fool her a bit. "The reason seeing the chest sent me into a bit of a tailspin is because I'd seen it before."

"What?"

"Or one like it. I should say. Almost like it."

"But, Nikolas, that's not-"

"Hush." He silenced her with a finger pressed gently to her lips. "Let me explain. When I saw this one, I knew. They were obviously made as a set, identical except for the size. This is the largest. I would think, the one Weston has would be the smallest, unless, of course, there are more than three. Mine-the one I saw-is a size between the two. They must have been meant to nest inside one another, do you see? Like Chinese boxes."

Rhia nodded automatically…then shook her head, because she didn't see at all. "But why should that upset you? So, they're a set-even I could see they're the same. So what? Where did you see this other one? Are you sure it's even the same?"

His lips curved in an odd, bitter smile. "Oh, yes. I'm absolutely sure. It was mine, you see. Or rather, my uncle's. When I was a child, growing up, I kept my stuff in it-my bits and pieces. My favorite toys, books, the odd treasure I'd found. So I could hardly mistake it, could I?"

He watched her face as he said it, amazed at how easy it was to utter the words after all, and how swiftly the unthinkable became reasonable and logical when shared with someone else. And how relieved he felt, as if a great burden had been lifted from his shoulders.

He saw her eyes narrow slightly and take on a kind of glow, like a hunting tiger's. "So…your uncle must have been working for Lord Vladimir-he had to be." Her voice was hushed, vibrant with excitement. "He was probably someone very close to him, too-a valet, maybe. His right-hand man. Someone he trusted with your care and upbringing, anyway. You know what that means? It means…"

Nikolas nodded. "If anyone knows where the bounder is. It's Silas Donovan. We have to talk to him, Nik."

For a long moment they simply looked at each other, her hands tense on his shoulders, his on her sides, his fingers curving around her slender torso, his head tipped slightly back. And as he gazed at her shimmering eyes and raptly parted lips the thought finally came clear to him like a gentle explosion, the pop and sizzle of a Chinese fireworks candle, to sear itself forever into his consciousness: I love this woman.

The pain that had twisted like a knife in his belly for weeks was gone. Now, instead of dread when he thought about the future, he felt full of optimism, even excitement. If his becoming king was what it was going to take to bring democracy to Silvershire, he'd do it, by God-as long as Rhia de Hayes consented to be his queen. With her by his side, he could face any challenge, defeat any foe. Never mind the fog outside the windows, the growing darkness in the room; in Nikolas's soul the sun had come from behind the clouds and was shining warm and bright.

"Nik?"

"Yes, luv?"

"Do you know where he is-Silas-" Her voice seemed to snag on a breath. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"I'm bedazzled. It's merely one of the hazards of being this close to you-another is that I keep getting this dangerous desire to make love to you on the spot." He saw a lovely pink flush creep across her cheeks and thought of soft, sweet things…like kittens and rose petals.

"I do know where we might find him," he said softly as he moved his hands stealthily upward under her jacket. "But there's nothing we can do tonight…not until Elliot gets back with the chopper. And in the meantime…didn't we leave something rather important unfinished?"

"You mean…supper?" Her lips curved with her kitty-cat smile.

He laughed and said huskily. "No…dessert."

Inside the jacket her body was warm and humid, and her breasts seemed to swell when his hands covered them, to make a perfect fit. He watched her eyes as he spread his fingers slowly, absorbing her softness, learning the shape of her. rejoicing at the eager leap of her nipples into the cups of his palms, and the way her eyelids grew heavy with desire.

Rhia felt herself sway into him, though her hands were stubbornly braced on his shoulders, and she'd told herself she couldn't possibly think of sex right now, that her mind should be occupied with the search for Vladimir, and her feelings caught up in the tangled skein of Nikolas's emotions. But her body wasn't buying it. Instead, it did impossible things: her heart turned over, the bottom dropped out of her stomach, her knees turned to water.

"How do you do that?" she asked in a thickened voice.

"This?" Catching an erect nipple between each thumb and forefinger, he teased them gently…then harder, his lips slowly curving into a smile as he watched her eyes.

She gasped; sensation, sharp, bright and fierce, arrowed straight down through her body and converged on the pulse-spot between her thighs. "No-I mean…how do you just… forget it? Put it all aside? How can you think of sex with all that's- Oh..my g-Nik-"

"It's my Y chromosome," he said softly. "We men can compartmentalize. For example…right now…" His fingers were doing incredible things to her breasts, things she felt with every exclusively female nerve ending in her body. "Right now…the only thought in this awful male brain of mine is how much I want to put my mouth here…feel your softness on my tongue…taste you…"

She couldn't think…couldn't see. And she gripped his shoulders now, not to fend him off, but to keep herself from toppling over.

"My sweet Rhia…tell me-are you thinking of sex right now?"

Her laugh was almost desperate. She barely managed to produce a whisper. "You know the answer to that."

"Then…will you take this off for me? Please, my love. Holding her eyes with his. he brought his hands upward under the two halves of her jacket and moved them apart… peeled them slowly back…pushed them over her shoulders. The soft leather whispered as it slid to the floor. "And this?" He teased her pullover up just far enough to bare a wide strip of her torso to his warm, exploring hands, leaving it for her to take from there. He closed his eyes and drew a rapt breath. "Ah…luv… you feel so good to me."

A shudder of desire jolted her as she pulled her sweater over her head. He murmured something soothing and moved his hands around and spread them wide across her back to support her as he brought his mouth to her unguarded breast. Freed of clothing, her arms settled like wings around him. and a fine velvety warmth enveloped one nipple…then the other, leaving the abandoned one cold and bereft, and hardening painfully against the moistened lace of her bra. A moan slipped from her lips almost unnoticed.

His wandering fingers found the clasp of her bra. And this, my love…will you take this off. too?" His face swam before her in deepening shadows…his voice was a low. hypnotic murmur, almost felt rather than heard. It seemed to weave a web of enchantment over her, leaving her powerless to speak or to move.

But not to think.

My love…my sweet: does he even realize he's saying those words?

His fingers slipped under the straps of her bra and eased them down her arms, turning even that into a caress so tender and erotic it made her stomach quiver. And when, on their return journey, those same fingers traced a new path along the under-curve of her breasts, and his mouth, exploring… tasting… discovered a bared nipple chilled and longing for its return embrace, she felt pressure swell in distant nerve-rich places…and her neck muscles melt and her eyelids drift down like velvet curtains.

And if he does realize it…does he mean them, or are they just…words?

She swayed dizzily…her fingers burrowed deep in his hair while his parted lips feathered downward over her stomach and his clever fingers released the buckle on her belt.

"I want to see you…taste you…touch you…all of you. Will you let me, sweet Rhia? Do you want that, too?"

"Yes…oh-please…"

His fingers…magic fingers…eased the zipper down… slipped between flesh and fabric and shucked away the last of her barriers, and in the same swift motion, claimed what he'd uncovered for his own. She stepped out of her clothes, clinging to his shoulders for support, and felt his knee push between her trembling legs.

He tilted his head back to look at her and whispered hoarsely. "Kiss me, now, my dearest Rhia…come to me, love."

And if he does mean them? Oh… what if he does mean it…?

She remembered, then, what she'd said to Zara. Was it just this morning? I told her it would be worse if he did…and it is…oh, it is!

She gave a shaken, whimpering cry; had she ever made such a sound before"? Blindly, she lowered her mouth to his. and it was a little like hurling herself into a bottomless sea. Immersed…lost…she scarcely felt it when a second knee pressed between her thighs, barely knew when her trembling legs gave way and his strong hands guided her down and settled her naked onto his lap.

While she waited in quivering anticipation, legs apart, her feminine places open like a blossoming flower, exposed and vulnerable to his clever, questing fingers, his hands moved unhurriedly almost lazily over her body, scattering hot-cold shivers across her skin wherever they touched. The rough fabric of his shirt abraded her tender nipples, and her hands gathered it convulsively across his shoulders, tugged at it in frustration, wanting only his naked skin touching her. Anything else was torture.

And his mouth…his mouth consumed her. His tongue slid rhythmically over the sensitive surfaces of her mouth, venturing deeper, filling her, blotting out thought. There was only feeling, searing sensation…and Nikolas, his mouth, his hands, his body.

And a desperate need. A terrible emptiness waiting to be filled. She wanted, with an urgency unlike anything she'd ever known before. And yet asking for what she wanted… needed…seemed beyond her. She seemed capable only of tiny breathless whimpers.

Then…even that was stilled. Her breath stopped as his fingers found her swollen petals at last, and with incredible gentleness slipped between them…then inside her. Just a little, at first…then deeper…filling the emptiness…filling her with a fierce dark heat that drove the breath from her body in a shuddering gasp. She tore her mouth from his as her spine convulsed and her body arched back, and she uttered his name in a shaip, piercing cry.

Instantly, his arm came across her back, strong as steel, protective as a bird's wing, shielding her, supporting her. His hand came to cradle the back of her head, bringing her face into the comforting hollow of his neck and shoulder, and he held her there, held her in warmth and safety while his fingers moved rhythmically inside her and the throbbing pressure built to its inevitable breaking point.

"Nik-" Her voice was silvery with panic, her breath like a knife in her throat.

Instantly, his whispered words were there, cooling the damp hair above her ear. "Too much, sweetheart? Shall I stop?"

"No! But I can't…I-" …can't say I love you! "I need you to…hold me. Please…"

"I am, my love. This is me, holding you. I've got you…it's okay…it's okay…"

And for that moment, as she finally let go of reason and tumbled headlong into the vortex, she let herself believe it could be…

I've got you… But Nikolas wondered for a time, as he felt the strongest, most capable woman he'd ever known tremble like a frightened fawn in his arms, just who was holding whom. The cataclysms he felt rippling like small earthquakes through her body were only echoes of the shock waves tearing through his soul.

I love you. Rhia de Hayes. The thought came, not with fireworks now. but as a steady drumbeat deep in his heart, a pulse that would be a part of his life force from this day forward for as long as he lived.

While he was holding her, tightly…tenderly…and her hot and swollen flesh still throbbed in his hand, darkness came at last and settled over them both like a chilling mist. He felt Rhia shiver as the passion-heat subsided, but when he shifted her slightly and gently withdrew his hand from her body, she gave a tiny cry of protest and shuddered convulsively, as if trying to burrow closer to his warmth.

He knew how she felt. He hated to let go of her, as well, even though he knew that, in order to find relief from the growing discomfort in his nether regions, he was going to have somehow to find a way to extricate himself from his clothes.

"Forgive me, my love," he whispered to the sweet-scented dampness of her hair. "Poor planning on my part. I know, but… in my defense. I simply couldn 't wait another minute to have you… We need to find a better place for this. Warmer…at least."

From the hollow of his neck her voice came, a muffled and unsteady version of his own British accent. "Ahem…I seem to recall seeing a perfectly lovely bed around here somewhere. Seems a pity not to use it…"

He started to laugh, then winced. "Ow. Dearest…before I do myself permanent injury, d'you think…"

"Don't worry," she said as she lifted her head, sounding both husky and giddy at the same time, seemingly caught up in a strange half-dazed euphoria, "if you do, I shall kiss it and make it well."

Laughter gusted from him as the same lightness of being washed over him. too. He kissed her and then, holding her tightly still, managed to get both of them to their feet.

He was relieved to discover the chest he'd been sitting on wasn't locked. As he'd hoped it might, it yielded up a treasure trove of feather bedding, relatively dust-free and reeking of cedar. Uncounted seconds later, he and Rhia were up on that high old-fashioned bed. both wrapped in one great cloud-soft comforter, naked and breathless, laughing and shivering like naughty children.

The laughing and the shivering died quickly and together as the passion-wave engulfed them again. And like a tsunami's second wave, it was just as devastating as the first-more so. since there were no barriers left in its way. nothing at all to slow it down. Hands and mouths were free to roam where they pleased, and they did. taking and giving pleasure in equally greedy measures. Sensation layered upon sensation until the heat, the pressure, the passion became something like agony.

"Darling…I-" Nikolas couldn't say more. He was on fire, in pain, stretched to the stinging point.

From somewhere in the nest of feather bedding came a fat, smug little chuckle-the Rhia he'd first come to know and adore, pleased, he imagined, to be back on top and in control, with him completely at her mercy. Then all thought fled, as her lithe, warm body slithered upward over his in one excruciating all-over caress.

Yes!

He caught her legs and drew them upward along his sides and lifted his head and shoulders to meet her, joy and the anticipation of sweet relief making starbursts of heat in his belly and chest. Her fingers tangled in his hair as her mouth found his and took possession of it. breathtaking as hot, honeyed brandy. He slid his hands along the back of her thighs to grasp her firm round buttocks, one breath away from sinking his aching flesh into her sweet softness…

But it wasn't to be, not yet. Her hands clutched at his shoulders, and she murmured something against his mouth he couldn't hear. Her legs tightened around him and her body tensed…and he thought: Of course. Remembering the way she'd positioned them before-neither one on top- The best way…

Only, this time he felt her body tighten and twist…and a moment later, in a move that reminded him of the way he'd turned the tables on her the first time he'd ever held her in his arms, that long-ago night on a Paris hotel balcony, he found himself above her, looking down at her face in the darkness.

She didn't say a word, but there was tenderness in the way her hands reached up to touch his face, and he could feel her body trembling with some vast unknown emotion. Moved himself without fully understanding why, he braced himself on his elbows and cradled her face between his hands, and when he brushed her cheeks with his thumbs, found them damp with tears. He kissed her. then, lightly at first, then deeply, as her arms and legs…her whole body embraced him. and wordlessly invited him in.

As before, penetration wasn't easy, though he knew she was moistened and ready for him. And. as before, he could feel her body brace for the invasion, determined, in her passion, both to ignore and to hide from him any pain he might cause her. But he was just as determined as she was: no matter how urgently he wanted to be inside her he was determined not to cause her pain. And. she had given him the control.

So, when she opened to him. he introduced himself into her body only a little, until he felt the slightest resistance…then held himself back, though his arms, his whole body quivered with the strain. When she pushed against him. he lowered his head and whispered. "Relax, my love…let me take it slow…okay?"

"But I-" Gasping.

"Shh…" He kissed her, then, deeply, rhythmically…penetrated her with his tongue, made her mouth hot and slick with his essence…drove his tongue into her until she whimpered… until her mind abandoned her, and her body, left unguarded, warmed and softened and bloomed around his aching flesh. He slipped into her smooth, sweet depths with a sigh that became a duet, her breath and his, woven together in perfect harmony.

And his release, when it came, was like a crescendo of the same song, one she joined to make a climax that, though soul-stirring, was only a part of their own beautiful music.

Rhia woke to find light streaming through the multipaned windows, and Nikolas's chuckle stirring warm across her lips.

"Rise and shine, my sweet…"

As the notes of a blues song, achingly sad and lovely, slipped rapidly from her dream memory, she lifted her arms around his neck and sighing, tilted her mouth to his kiss.

"Mmm…love,don't tempt me. Fog's lifting-you can see the river. I expect our friend Elliot will be arriving shortly, and-" he dropped a delicate kiss onto the tip of her nose "-not that I mind, but I thought you might prefer not to have your colleague catch you in such an…ah…exposed, albeit delectable-"

"All right, already…I'm up. I'm up…okay?" She opened her eyes, sat up and threw back the comforter, trying hard to scowl, but the image that filled her sleep-fogged vision made her smile blissfully instead. Nikolas…elegant as ever, even when wearing nothing but a clay's growth of dark beard stubble. His body was so lean and lithe and beautiful…her heart stumbled, and her body's tender places tingled to wakefulness. Well-being filled her, and she lifted her arms over her head in a glorious stretch, like a cat in a pool of sunshine.

"Stop that, you shameless minx!" Nikolas thrust one arm around her waist and the other under her knees and hauled her. laughing, into his arms. He kissed her once. hard, then lowered her feet to the floor. "Get dressed-now."

Muttering dark Creole curses under her breath. Rhia obeyed. And as she did, she felt the sunshine fade and a chilly little cloud come to darken her heart instead. If only…

If only it could be like this for us always. If only it didn't have to end.

But it did. She knew that. The night just past had been an enchantment…a fantasy interlude…a day at Disneyland. Time now to wake up and return to the real world beyond the gates. And as before, she grieved secretly for the end of the dream…the loss of something wonderful she knew would not come again.

Once up and awake, she dressed with her usual efficiency-inspired, no doubt, by the need to find a bathroom as quickly as possible. While she did that. Nikolas, who had finished dressing even before she. folded the bedding and returned it to the chest, then turned out the contents of Elliot's duffel bag. They were wolfing down chocolate-dipped Danish butter cookies and bottled water when they heard the distant clack of a chopper's rotors.

Hastily stuffing what was left of the snack goodies back in the bag. they gathered it up along with their jackets and ran. Rhia, a few steps ahead of Nikolas, was halfway down the curving staircase before she realized he wasn't following. She stopped, gripping the banister railing, and looked back.

Up on the landing, Nikolas was standing absolutely still, frozen in place, like someone caught in a tractor beam.

"Nik?" She started back up the stairs, her heart already beginning to pound, though she didn't yet know the reason.

Light from the window at the far end of the landing had flooded across the wall directly in front of him, bringing into full glory the gilt-framed portraits hanging there. As she came closer, she could see that Nikolas was staring, apparently transfixed, at one portrait in particular. It was a large dark portrait-of one of the previous lords of the castle, she assumed-probably from the Victorian Era, judging from the gentleman's severe clothing, longish hair and full beard and mustache. His only visible features were a knife-bridged patrician nose, and eyes of a fierce and steely blue that glared frostily down at them from under thick, bushy eyebrows.

"Who's that?" Rhia asked sharply. "One of the former Lord Vladimirs, surely."

Without taking his eyes from the portrait, Nikolas shook his head slowly. Words came, barely audible, whispering from lips that might have been carved from stone.

"It's Silas."