Love Entwined (27 page)

By the time he returned to the bedside, he was bare-chested.

He pulled her close and his lips began a slow journey over hers. His hands traveled down her body, cupping her bottom and pressing her softness into him. “Are you ready to make up for lost time?”

“Roman,” she sighed. She had him at a disadvantage. After all, he was her dream lover come to life and she knew what pleasure awaited them. She wondered about his choice of words, though, as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

Had she not known better, she would have thought he knew something about their time together in the past? But that was impossible…“Can we do something about these clothes,
mon cœur
?”

Straddling her, he lifted the dress over her head. He hooked his finger into the top of her bikini bottom and pulled it down her legs.

For a moment, she thought he was smiling at her beauty mark and then his eyes darkened when they fell on the curls between her legs. He rubbed them between his fingers and she felt the sensual journey under her skin, stirring the blood in her veins. With one hand, he milked her, slowly, until she spread her legs wide. She gripped his arms, pulling him down, but he smiled.

“Not yet.”

Cupping her breasts, he massaged them through the cotton bra. Just when she was about to come out of her skin, he reached under her to unclasp the bra and pull it away.

“Beautiful.” He caressed her, filling his hands, and then bent to suckle.

She held his head, arching her back, offering him more.

He took the other nipple between his lips and drove her mad with his tongue.

“Ah—h—h…” The quickening inside her was an invisible cord drawn from her breast to her center.

His other hand traveled back down between her legs. When she opened for him, he slipped one finger inside of her.

“Please.” She clutched his shoulders. His rhythmic movement in and out had her bucking against him.

When he withdrew to shed his slacks, she leaned up to watch the play of muscles along his corded arms. She couldn’t wait any longer and grabbed him, lifted her hips, and guided him into her.

He thrust himself into her to the hilt. “A moment, Beauty,”

He kissed away her protests, teasing her, until she was forced to savor the snug fit.

She’d thought she had the advantage, knowing what pleasure they were capable of together, but she was wrong. He was in complete control. He knew her, knew exactly what to do to her to make her die wanting him. He pulsed inside of her, filling her up…ah, she could not lie still anymore.

She wrapped her legs around him and ground her hips against him.

He dove into her.

“Yes.” She met his thrusts, taking every inch of him as he drove into her.

His swollen, rock-hard cock took her breath away, surging inside of her and then almost all the way out and then back again, deliberately slamming into her again and again until she came apart, jerking against him in release. When she cried out, his mouth covered hers.

Resting on his elbows, he gave her moment, licking and nipping her lips.

He waited until she looked up into his eyes before spreading her wide and bringing her knees up.

He still wanted more from her, his strokes swift and on target. He hammered into her with a piston-like motion, triggering another wild wave of pleasure.

Only then did he seek release, filling her with his essence.

St. Clair Manor, North Yorkshire – May 3, 1988

Roman insisted that she get her rest, but they had not been in the drafting room for weeks.

Amelie was beginning to feel guilty because she had a job to do. She could not, in good conscience, wallow in bed for another week with Roman while there was still so much work to do on the new campaign.

She was surprised they hadn’t heard from Harold, who would be anxious by now to see some results of their paring. But she shouldn’t be. She had a feeling Harold didn’t mind she was spending so much time in Yorkshire, as long as it was with their number one client, Cardiff Jewels.

It was the first week in May, and at this rate she would be here for the summer in Yorkshire if they didn’t resume their work now. Not that she would mind. She had a feeling Roman wouldn’t mind either. Mention of the meetings he had missed in the past few weeks did not do the trick, so she just pulled him out of bed.

He was the ultimate multi-tasker. Once they were in the drafting room, it wasn’t long before he was on the phone, arguing startup timelines with Dylan.

She was used to his carousing in the drafting room as if he were in a boxer’s ring and had tuned out the conversation until it became very quiet. When she turned, he was looking straight at her.

“They were cleaning house at Bijou and found something. It’s the Artisan Collection. Your designs. Dylan thinks we should have a look.”

“I don’t want to go.”

Still staring at her, Roman spoke into the phone. “Dylan, I’ll call you later.”

She turned back to her sketch.

He came to stand behind her. “Emil is gone, Beauty. He is never coming back.”

“No. They live forever.” She dropped her mechanical pencil. “Oh, God.”

He turned her around to face him. “What is it? You look as if you’ve seen a…”

“Ghost,” she gripped his arms.

“The Lady of the Manor again?”

“I—I just remembered something someone told me.” Jacqueline had warned her about Emil.
They live forever.
Exactly who or what were “they?”

But she already knew the answer to that. She had not wanted to remember, had hoped it would all just remain in the past and leave the two of them to the happy life they deserve after such a tragic end two hundred years ago.

Long ago, the High Priestess was the Artisan, and had called forth the fire dragon. That is why Lord Alsborough had proposed to Jacqueline, so that together they would continue their work for this devil, her work as the Artisan. Emil had sought her out in this life for the Artisan Collection…named for her special talent of calling forth their demon “Designs crafted especially for their purpose,” Jacqueline had said.

The déjà vu was crippling. She was Jacqueline again, running in terror through the captain’s fields on that beautiful summer day before her wedding, toward her reincarnated consort in an effort to stop the inevitable.

Would she be able to stop the evil this time? Was it too late already? She had no idea how many of Emil’s people were involved in the Artisan collection and who all the players were in this terrible game.

Roman was frowning at her.

He knew nothing at all of this. She had not had the chance to tell him what she’d lived through. She could not tell him now.

Jacqueline had once made the decision not to tell her
capitaine
and keep him safe from this evil, and she had been right.

The less Roman knew the better. He refused to believe in the Lady of the Manor. He did not have knowledge of a past life to guide him. His unbelief would get him killed if his protective instinct took over. She was the lone believer, a witch with no power. She had to go with him to Bijou. If there was anything to be found, she would see it and know the danger.

“How soon can we leave?” she asked.

Château Jeune, Asnières-Sur-Seine, France – May 4, 1988

They flew to France the next day and arrived at the Château Jeune, a landmark of weathered sandstone styled after the old regime in Asnières-Sur-Seine.

They would have dinner in their suite since it would be an early start to Bijou in the morning.

The suite’s French doors were open to the gentle breeze stirring the crushed velvet drapes. The Louis XV tester bed faced the terraced landscape and the Seine’s dark, tranquil waters beyond bathed in twilight.

Roman’s hand traveled down her belly to the juncture of her thighs. “You have excellent taste in hotels, Beauty.”

“It is not home, but close to it.” Amelie lay with her head against Roman’s chest. “Château Jeune was built on the site of an older château. The Château de Vaujours.”

“I’d never even noticed Asnières-Sur-Seine before I acquired Bijou and yet there is something about this view that is so familiar. Are those Plane trees?”

“
Oui monsieur
, aren’t they beautiful?” she gasped, opening to him like a flower.

He placed her underneath him on the satin sheets and slipped into her. “You’re beautiful.”

She wrapped her legs around him and he loved her gently. Whispered words of love comingled with sweet commands as they leisurely pleasured each other and with arms and legs tangled finally came together.

Later, when she lay across his chest, playing with a flat-tipped brown nipple, there was a knock on the suite door.

“That must be dinner. Be right back.” He put on a robe and left the room, closing the bedroom door behind him.

Ten minutes later, she was sitting up in bed, drumming her fingers on the sea of red satin lapping at her middle.

“Are you trying to starve me?”

When he didn’t answer, she put on her robe and padded down the hall. “I need food.” She stopped in the center of the living room.

He was walking toward her across the parquet floor. His expression was tight. “Go back into the bedroom.”

She moved closer. “What is wrong?”

A woman stood behind him.

Both her ebony hair and pale skin were lustrous, onyx and pearls lit from within. She was tall and thin and looked as if she had just stepped off a Paris runway in the chic beige silk dress she wore.

An ugly cramp of jealousy tightened Amelie’s stomach. This woman was worldly enough for any man. The sophisticate was standing very close to Roman, too close. She wore the mocking look of a discarded girlfriend.

Amelie looked at Roman. “What is going on here?”

“Ah. The flavor of the month?” The woman pushed him from behind. When he turned slightly to give the woman an annoyed glance, Amelie saw the gun the woman pressed into his back.

She took an involuntary step forward.

“This is Coty Aumoine.” Roman gave her a meaningful look, which meant nothing at all to her.

She looked from Roman to the woman. Coty Aumoine must be one of his many ex-girlfriends, but for one difference. The calm purpose etched in her classical features with a gun in hand said she had succeeded in catching Roman the way a pregnant Constance Billows had been unable to.

His eyes swung to the burgundy sectional sofa next to Amelie. She ignored this non-verbal command. She would not hide behind furniture while he fought for his life.

The muscle in his jaw was working. As soon as she was out of the line of fire, he would wrestle this woman for the gun. She would not let him take that chance.

She took another step forward and Roman’s eyes narrowed. She focused on the dark-haired woman. “A breakup is always difficult. You and Roman were not meant to be. Please, can we talk about this?”

“Amelie…” Roman’s baritone lowered to a growl.

Coty Aumoine’s laughter grated on Amelie’s ears like the unrestrained chords of a Chopin masterpiece, only more cataclysmic and final. The woman was mad.

“You really don’t know who I am, do you?” Coty Aumoine poked Roman with the gun. “He killed my Emil.”

This was the moment she dreaded. Maybe since she had returned from the eighteenth century. She had not known how it would play out here in France, but knew this day would come. In false hope, she had ignored her instincts, refusing to believe they would lose this game a second time. Not even Death was that cruel.

But she had been wrong about Death. How could she think Death would be merciful in this century? It had only bided its time.

She did not know what to say, and so lapsed into French. “Roman did not kill that womanizing bastard.”

“Shut up, Amelie!” He commanded, and was eclipsed by Coty Aumoine’s shrill French.

“Did you really believe Emil would leave me for you? You were just one of his little projects. You are nothing!”

“And you are a murdering bitch!” She lunged for Coty, but only got as far as Roman’s chest.

He was trying to stay between them, but Amelie ducked under his arm. She and Coty Aumoine hurled insults at each other like two schoolgirls, and the gun turned in her direction.

“Whoever killed Emil Garamonde saved you from making the worst mistake of your life. I should have been so lucky!”

“Slut!” Coty Aumoine brought the gun up with both hands.

“
D’accord
, it makes sense now. All that time he was whoring behind your back, how could you take it? So, you got tired of your playboy’s antics and killed him, eh?”

Amelie looked at Roman and braced herself for the gunshot.
I love you.

He grabbed Coty Aumoine’s wrist and pulled her down to the floor, covering her with his body. The woman kicked wildly underneath him, but could not get free.

“Roman, no!” Amelie circled them, looking for the gun, but she could not tell if he had succeeded in taking it away from Coty Aumoine.

The woman’s stiletto heels drummed on the floor, pounding between Amelie’s head, and immobilizing her with the macabre beat.

“Amelie, get out of here!” Roman shouted.

The gun went off.

Both Roman and Coty Aumoine lay still.

* * * *

With the gun’s explosion still ringing in her ears, Amelie fell to her knees. When she placed her hand on Roman’s unruly curls, he stirred.

“
Mon cher
.” She kissed his cheek and he turned over. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him some more.

“What the hell were you thinking?” He got up, dragging her up with him. Blood was a stark contrast on the front of his white robe. The thick Egyptian cotton was drenched.

She cried out and ripped the robe open. The chest hair tapering in a line down his stomach was unmarred. She buried her face in his chest, reveling in the staccato thump of his beating heart against her cheek.

He grabbed her and held her away until she met the murder in his eyes.

“I—I was not thinking. I just didn’t want you to get hurt.” She looked down at Coty Aumoine.