Lair of the Lion

seeming to burst into flames. "Perhaps you need protection from me." His voice was velvet, purring menace.
    Silence seemed to fill the library. She could hear the wind tugging at the windows as if trying to get in. She forced herself to meet that steady gaze defiantly. That she might need protection from the don was both shocking and strangely exhilarating.
    "How did you manage to escape from your room, Isabella?"
    The way he said her name, wrapping it up in a soft caress, sent liquid fire crawling through her body. He was lethal. Wickedly, sinfully lethal. His voice suggested he knew many things she had only heard about. Intimate things his hot gaze demanded she share with him. She could barely manage to breathe when she looked into those eyes, when she saw his tormented face. When she saw the intensity of his desire.
    Isabella moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue, the only gesture betraying her nerves. "I certainly am not about to confess anything to you. Suffice it to say, I learned the fine arts one needs for moving about freely when my father used to confine me in my quarters. He often forbade me to go riding."
    He smiled, a flash of white teeth, fine laugh lines crinkling the corners of his eyes. "I imagine he often forbade you to do many things."
    "Yes, he did," Isabella admitted, trying not to melt right on the spot at his mere smile.
    There was something about him that rugged at her heart. If she wasn't careful, he could steal her soul and leave her a hollow shell. She leaned forward deliberately, defiantly, locking her gaze with his. "He forbade me all sorts of things, he locked me up continually, and it never did him a bit of good. I went where I wanted to go and did as I pleased. I have never, at any time, been a good or dutiful girl."
    The table separated them, polished marble that gleamed a beautiful rose color under the flickering light of the tapers.
    Nicolai glided closer, a tall, powerful figure looming over her so that the massive table seemed suddenly inconsequential. Deliberately he placed both palms flat on the surface and leaned his heavily muscled frame toward her so that their faces were mere inches apart.

    "Is that a warning, Signorina Vernaducci?" His voice was nearly liquid, it was so soft, purring menace and blatant temptation.
    Isabella refused to back down. Her pulse was racing, her heart pounding. He was the most handsome and imposing man she had ever seen. Up close he was mesmerizing, and just looking at him robbed her of air. She could see the terrible scars that had ravaged his left cheek, yet she could also see the absolute perfection of his masculine body, of his handsome face. Isabella struggled to drag air into her lungs, straggled not to lift her hand and cradle his scars in her palm. "Yes, Don DeMarco. I feel it is only fair to tell you the truth about me."
    "Your intention, then, is to defy me?"
    Sparring with him would have been much easier if he hadn't been staring at her mouth with such evident fascination. "I offered a lifetime of loyal servitude in return for the rescue of mio fratello. I even agreed to become your wife, and your answer was to ruthlessly order me to leave the valley in the middle of a snowstorm," she accused. "I don't think I owe you fidelity."
    "You haven't forgiven me yet," he observed thoughtfully. "I thought we had dispensed with your unfavorable opinion of me."
    He was so close, she wanted to touch his tempting mouth. His hair was an altogether different enticement, but she was determined to match him stare for stare. She managed her haughtiest tone. "I see nothing in my behavior that would lead you to believe that. I was merely polite, as good breeding commands."
    "Really?" His voice was low, one eyebrow shooting up. He grinned at her then. A self-assured, know-it-all, wicked smile. It changed his face completely, chasing away the shadows and the deep lines. He looked young and handsome and sensually appealing. Her breath caught in her lungs, and her heart stopped beating. She could only stare helplessly at him.
    Nicolai simply reached out, almost in slow motion, his palm curling slowly around the nape of her neck. His hand was large and hot against her skin, wrapping around the slender column so that his fingers lay against her vulnerable throat.
    Fire raced through her body at the touch of his lips on hers. Every muscle clenched tightly. Heat blossomed low and sinfully in her stomach and spread to meet the flames racing through her