Lair of the Lion

thought until there was only the reality of Nicolai, his body taking hers with hard, long strokes, burying himself deeply inside her while her body gripped his and wound tighter and tighter until she let go, flying high, soaring free, exploding with sheer elation.
    They came together there in the darkness with danger surrounding them, with snow on the ground and in the midst of a city. They came together in fire and passion.

Chapter Fifteen
    Isabella lay beneath the coverlet, grateful for the warmth of the fire. It lent the room a feeling of safety. She watched Nicolai light the candelabra on the mantel—watched the way his muscles moved and flexed beneath his shirt. She hadn't realized how cold she was until she dressed for bed. All too conscious of Nicolai intending to share her bedchamber, she had donned fine intimate apparel and found it less than satisfactory at keeping her warm.
    The lace hugged her breasts and slithered over her waist and hips, sinfully clinging to her every curve. Shivering, she almost exchanged it for a warmer gown, but its sensuous beauty was too much to resist.
    For the first time she was confused, even embarrassed, over her wanton behavior with Nicolai. She had been so frightened, knowing she was stalked by a lion. Then she had been so relieved to see him, to know he wasn't the predator. Then… She bit her lower lip and turned her face into the feather pillow. She had been out of control, wanting him with every fiber of her being, wanting his possession of her to drive away all thought, leaving only feelings. The things they had done together… She wondered if it meant she was wicked beyond redemption. She wished her mother were alive to advise her. She had no one to turn to. No one other than Nicolai.
    Nicolai had lit the fire himself, arranged for hot tea and biscuits, and had called his most trusted servants, Betto and Sarina, instructing them that someone was to be watching over Isabella at all times when she moved about the palazzo. It should have annoyed her, but it made her feel cherished. He had, of course, gone to his own apartments but had used the hidden passageway to return to her bedchamber the moment the castello settled down for the night.
    Nicolai looked down at her pale face, the shadows that his valley, his people, even he, had put in the depths of her eyes. Unable to keep from touching her, he smoothed back her hair with gentle fingers. "I know this has been a trying day for you. I just want to hold you, piccola, hold you close to me and comfort you."
    She turned over to lie on her back and look up at his beloved face, drinking in every detail, every line. She loved looking at him. His wild hair and unusual eyes. His broad shoulders and tall, muscular body. Even the scars on his face seemed to belong, giving him a mysterious, dangerous aura.
    He was enormously strong, yet his touch on her skin could be incredibly gentle. His eyes could blaze with fierce possessiveness, burn hot with desire, or be as cold as ice, yet stark need would suddenly creep into his gaze. He exuded confidence, a man born to power, yet at those times vulnerability would be etched into every line of his face. He could make her weak with desire with one look—another look could have her struggling to control her temper. Nicolai DeMarco was a man who needed a woman to love him. And God help her, she did.
    She couldn't resist him. She couldn't resist his need of her, his elemental hunger for her.
    A part of her wanted to hide, to run away from all that had happened between them.
    Another part wanted comfort, wanted to be held in his arms, close to his body. She said nothing at all, just watched as he purposefully undressed, completely at ease with his nakedness. Propriety dictated she look away, not stare at him with such matching hunger, but it was impossible, and deep inside her the butterfly wings fluttered and warmth spread.
    Nicolai lifted the coverlet and slid in beside her. "I know you're tired, cara mia. I see it in your eyes, and I want you to sleep. I just want to hold you close. You are so soft and warm, and you feel so right in my arms." His voice was a sorcerer's whisper in her ear. His breath was a warm enticement. He pulled her close to him and fit her tightly into the curve of his body. It all felt far too intimate there in the flickering candlelight with the memory of their recent, wanton passion still burning in her mind.
    Isabella closed her eyes to block out the sight of him,