Lair of the Lion

her breath hitching in her lungs. Desire began to pool low, a sweet ache that caused her breasts, pressed tightly into his heavy muscles, to tingle with anticipation. Determinedly she looked away from the hunger flaring in his eyes.
    "You should have told me about Francesca, Nicolai."
    His hand began to make slow, lazy circles over the small of her back. "Yes, I should have, cara, but it never occurred to me that she might be dangerous to you." Heat flared between them, burning through the lace of her gown. "Francesca was only a babe, five summers, when mia madre was killed." His hand sank lower, rubbing her buttocks, his fingers kneading her flesh.
    "She was there, too, wasn't she?" Isabella guessed, her heart immediately going out to Francesca. "She saw it. She saw her padre kill her madre." She held him close, wanting to comfort him, needing to ease the memory of that terrible afternoon. Her arms wound around his neck, her fingers tangling in the thick silk of his hair.
    Nicolai nodded. "It was Francesca who called the lions to save my life. And she was changed just as I was." He touched the jagged scars on his face. "She was scarred on the inside, where no one could see. She didn't talk, didn't cry or make a sound for years. She wouldn't go near any of us, not even me. She would sit in a room with me, but she wouldn't let me touch her." Pain laced his voice. His hand slid up her back to her nape.
    "And you think it's because she's afraid you'll kill her, just as your padre killed your madre?" Isabella found herself seeking to comfort him. "You don't understand Francesca at all, Nicolai. She loves you more than anyone, anything in the world. It's in her voice when she talks of you. If she did what you said and followed me, it isn't because she wanted to hurt you—or me. We had talked of jealousy. Perhaps she was trying to tell me something."
    He pressed his lips to her eyelids—then his mouth drifted over her temple and down her cheek to the corner of her mouth. "What would she have to be jealous of? She's never wanted her place in the holding. She would no more run the palazzo or help Sarina with the details of everyday duties than she would become a soldier. She's refused to even consider marriage. She runs wild, and I should have put a stop to it some time ago."
    His mouth was scattering her thoughts, nibbling gently on her chin, tightening her nipples into hard pebbles and causing her breasts to ache. His tongue stroked a caress over her chin, stroking a flame that raced along her nerve endings. Isabella squirmed, inciting him to harden more, to push tightly against her. His mouth wandered unhurriedly along the slender column of her neck, her throat.
    "You can't know what it's like to touch you, Isabella, to be able to lose myself in your body. To know I can bring you such pleasure in return." He pushed the robe from her shoulders, then slid his fingers over the lace of her nightgown, making the bodice slither down to bunch at her waist.
    She felt his gaze on her breasts, and immediately her body responded with a wave of heat. He didn't touch her, simply looked at her, watching her breathe in and out.
    "You're so beautiful." He lowered his head and suckled her aching flesh.
    Isabella nearly exploded, liquid dampening her thighs, her body clenching tighter and tighter. His hands bit into her waist as he bent her backward so that her breast thrust more fully into his mouth. She closed her eyes, threw her head back, and allowed the sensations to wash over her. She could feel him, so hard and hot now against her buttocks that she thought they both might go up in flames.
    When he released her breast to run kisses up her neck, she carefully stood, bravely removing the shirt from his wide shoulders. He sucked in his breath and leaned back to allow her to unhook his breeches. Her fingers brushed over his hardened body, sending lightning streaking through him, shaking him to the very core of his being. He lifted his hips as she hooked her thumbs into the waist and tugged his clothes down to the tops of his boots. Nicolai bent, finding it somewhat painful, and pulled off his boots so he could rid himself of his clothing.
    When Isabella would have turned to the bed, Nicolai caught her hand and brought her back around to stand in front of him. He seated himself in the chair and urged her closer.
    "Part your legs, cara." His hand went between her thighs, gently encouraging her to do as he bid.
    Color swept her face, but