BLADE'S LADY Read online

  As they left the restaurant, he took her arm, the action was casual, but that wasn't how it felt. The first brush of his fingers sent a charge through her followed by a wash of heat that made her shiver in reflex and her chest tighten on a startled intake of air.

  His hand jerked back as if, this time, he had felt it, too.

  He said something low and rough. His hands clasped her upper arms, and he turned her to face him beneath the light of a street lamp. This time the jolt was low level, more of a tingling hum. "Did you feel that?" he demanded. "Sometimes when I touch you, I feel something … extra. A heat."

  Anna pulled free from his touch. "I don't know what it is."

  "Has that ever happened to you with anyone else?"

  "No."

  His gaze was still almost chillingly speculative, and for a moment she was transfixed by the dawning suspicion that he knew – that somehow he knew about the dreams.

  Heat and confusion tumbled through her, along with a deep unease. The dreams were intolerably private. That Blade could possibly be aware that they'd shared those primitive matings, that he'd used his mouth on her breasts, made love to her while she'd clung to him, while they'd clung together…

  The restaurant door flipped open behind them on a wave of music and laughter. A young couple exited, glancing at them curiously.

  Blade held out his hand, and after a moment she gave up on resistance and placed her hand in his. His clasp was firm but gentle as they walked to where the Jeep was parked, as if he was being very careful not to scare her, yet the warm pressure of his fingers was also disturbingly intimate. He had pushed until she had accepted his touch, reinforcing his right to touch her.

  He helped her into the Jeep, then walked around and got in, but he didn't immediately start the engine. "Do you want me to take you home?"

  His face was in shadow, but she could feel the intensity glittering in his half-closed eyes, knew that if she indicated she was willing, he would take her to wherever he lived and spend the night making love to her. The thought sent a shock of pleasure through her, so strong that she fumbled with the seat belt.

  "I have to look for work tomorrow." It was no kind of answer, but she just couldn't bring herself to say either yes or no. The inevitability of what Blade wanted pulled at her like a powerful tide, and she was helpless against it, but she also feared it. For Anna, making love was inextricably entwined with commitment. She had never set out to be either prudish or calculating. That was simply the way she was. If she made love with Blade, she would want everything else that went with it. Marriage, family, the whole kit and caboodle, and she had no idea what he wanted from her. She was in love with Blade, but essentially, they were strangers.

  "Are you married?"

  Her head jerked up, eyes widening. "No!"

  "Good," he murmured. "Because I'm going to kiss you."

  Silence followed while he unclipped the belt she'd just fastened and let it slide back into its slot. The silence pooled and grew until she could feel it throbbing, pulsing in her throat, making it difficult to breathe.

  He bent forward, cupping her nape, but instead of the kiss she expected, he nuzzled her neck, rubbing his jaw softly against her skin, sending hot shivers of anticipation through her. She could feel his lips at her throat, her jaw. The pleasure of the light caresses was almost painful. His scent filled her nostrils, clean, animal-hot. His teeth grazed her lobe, his fingers tightened at her nape, and instinctively she turned, seeking his mouth.

  His lips were firm, knowing, as they gently pressed hers apart for the slow stroke of his tongue. The taste of him was wild, male, both enticingly strange and unbearably familiar. Her hands found his shoulders, fingers clenching in the soft leather of his jacket. It was cold outside, the air moist and heavy, misting the windows, but she wasn't cold, Blade's heat swamped her, consumed her.

  His mouth moved back to her throat, and she shivered at the rough heat of his jaw against her skin, the terrible tension building in her body. She felt cool air against her chest and realised he had pushed up both her sweater and the loose flannel shirt she was wearing beneath. His hands closed on her breasts, and her nipples tightened almost painfully hard against the cotton of her bra.

  His gaze locked with hers as he pushed her bra up out of the way; then he bent his head and drew one aching peak into his mouth. She arched, lost to the hot flood of sensation, as the heat twisted and built, clamping tighter and tighter. She felt lush in his hands, feminine and desirable. He moved to her other breast, and she cradled his head, fingers tangled in the warm, thick silk of his hair. He shuddered at the touch, and abruptly she found herself straddling his lap, her breasts naked and damp in the cool night air as he dragged her mouth to his, hands cupping her face as he angled for the kiss, thrusting his tongue deep, penetrating her mouth in a wild, hot rhythm that made her cling to him in an agony of need and despair.

  She wanted him.

  There was terror and delight in the thought, and a kind of devastating relief. She was alive and female and she wanted Blade to go on touching her, wanted to feel the damp heat blazing off his sleek skin. Her hands bunched in his T-shirt, pulled it free from his jeans so she could slide her palms up beneath the soft cotton. With an impatient growl, Blade jerked the T-shirt off, then her sweater, so that her breasts were pressed against his naked chest.

  He kissed her countless times, until she was dazed and aching, her body restless, almost painfully sensitive. Finally he lifted his mouth from hers and pressed her face into his shoulder, holding her against him. Her shirt was wadded uncomfortably. She didn't care; she was incapable of moving. Eventually Anna lifted her head from his shoulder.

  Blade was watching her, his eyes shielded by those ridiculously long lashes. "I can't feel the tingle when I touch you now," he said slowly, his fingers stroking the line of her cheek. "I wonder what causes it?"

  Anna closed her eyes on a cold ripple of unease. She didn't know what it was herself, beyond some kind of chemistry that existed peculiarly between her and Blade. She wondered what he would say if he found out that maybe the tingle was the result of the strangeness in her, that sometimes her senses were distinctly abnormal, and that she saw and felt in ways that just didn't fit any dictionary definitions of those words?

  Chapter 8

  Blade parked outside Anna's boarding house and insisted on coming inside with her.

  Anna argued, but he wouldn't budge from seeing her to her door. She knew what he would say when he saw the room. The house was a monstrosity. She didn't know how it had escaped being condemned; every part of it that she'd seen was awful. "Down at heel" just didn't cover it.

  With a sigh, she unlocked her door, walked inside and flicked on the light. His facial expression didn't change, but inwardly, she cringed. He had to live in lavish wealth, and while that didn't worry her, she was conscious of the ugliness of her surroundings.

  "You haven't got a bed," he said slowly. "Where did you sleep last night?"

  Anna set her briefcase down, and hung her coat on a hook on the back of the door. Blade could see her sleeping bag; he knew exactly where she'd slept. "The snowfoam cuts the chill." She shrugged. "I was comfortable enough."

  That wasn't a lie. When she'd slept, she had been so exhausted she could have been lying on bare boards and she wouldn't have noticed.

  When he spoke, his voice was soft, almost casual. "How long do you intend to sleep on the floor?"

  "Until I can afford to buy a bed."

  "Is Anna your real name?"

  Her head snapped up. "Yes."

  "But Johnson isn't."

  His words broadsided her. He'd done one of those lightning changes, from man to cop – or soldier – the abruptness of it shocking. The calculation of his questioning disturbed her, even though she understood the reason behind it. He knew she was on the run, and he had bided his time all evening, calming her down after her panic in the library, making sure she ate, but now he wanted answers. "No, Johnson isn't my name." />
  When she didn't expand on her answer, he walked over to the window, braced his hand on the lintel and stared out. She knew the questions wouldn't stop, that he would demand to know who she was, why she was on the run, and that she would have to tell him.

  Abruptly, he shifted to one side. "You're coming with me," he said flatly, all his attention directed at the street. "And we're leaving. Now."

  The arrogance of his statement bypassed Anna completely. She was caught and held by the way he'd pulled back from the window, so he could see out, but not be seen. "What is it? What can you see?"

  "Does the name Eric Seber ring a bell?"

  Anna shook her head, then realised he wasn't paying any attention to her; he was still watching the street. "No."

  "He searched your flat last night, and right now he's camped out on the road, watching this window."

  "How do you know he searched—"

  "Because he beat me to it." His gaze connected with hers. "I went back to try and find some trace of where you'd gone, and found Eric already in residence."

  His hand curled around her arm, tugging her with him to the door. "We'll go out the back way."

  "What about the Jeep?"

  "I can get it without Seber realising. He wasn't here when we pulled up, so he won't connect it with you."

  As he spoke, he jerked the leather thong from his hair. With the dark mane loose around his shoulders, he looked completely different. Camouflage, she realised, as she snagged her briefcase in passing. The man watching the flat had probably seen Blade, but he had seen either a short-haired man or the ponytail.

  They left her light on, then took the stairs and strode the length of a narrow, dark hallway to the rear of the house. The backyard was overgrown, a mass of thick shrubs and weedy lawn. The fence they had to negotiate was a pitiful thing, nothing but rusted strands of wire threading the damp, musty jungle that marked the boundary of both old villas.

  They picked their way between skeletal fruit trees, ducked under an oak and walked down a paved lane, ending up on another quiet residential street.

  This street was irregularly laid out, so the walk to where the Jeep was parked was convoluted, and longer than they had anticipated.

  Blade stopped her beside a tall hedge. "Wait here, out of sight. I'll collect the Jeep, then pick you up."

  He disappeared around the corner. Anna tightened her grip on her briefcase and pressed back further into the hedge, wishing she'd thought to grab her coat on the way out, because it had started to drizzle. The streetlight at the intersection of the street had dimmed to little more than a yellowish halo as the drizzle thickened and mist drifted up from the road.

  She heard the distant sound of what she thought must be the Jeep's motor and at the same time heard a faint movement much closer. She strained to listen, to isolate the sound. All the hairs at the nape of her neck lifted in a cold wash of awareness. Suddenly she knew that the man who had been watching her room was very, very close. He must have become suspicious, checked out the rear of the boarding house and spotted them leaving.

  She moved her head slowly, checking first one side of the street, then the other. It was empty, and for a moment she was confused. Where was he?

  That stark pulse of awareness came again. Very quietly, she stepped out from the hedge, her heart pounding so hard her pulse hammered at the back of her throat. He was behind her, on the other side of the hedge. She could hear the faint whisper of his tread as he stepped through wet grass.

  Anna glanced around again, quickly running through her options. She couldn't go in the direction Blade had gone. The hedge ended in a broad drive a few feet away. If she crossed that open space the man would see her, and if he had a gun she would be an easy shot, silhouetted against the streetlight.

  Trying not to make any sound at all, she back-tracked, huddling close to the hedge as she searched for a hiding place. All she had to do was keep safe for a few seconds until Blade came. Her sleeve caught on something sharp, distracting her, so that she glanced down. When she checked behind her next, he was there, a blocky figure outlined by dim light.

  Cold rain scattered in her face, sending a prickling chill through her. It was the same man who had chased her through Ambrose Park. She saw both arms come up and knew that even though she couldn't see it, he had a gun and was sighting down the barrel before squeezing off a shot.

  There was the low growl of an engine, then headlights swept the street, jolting her out of that moment of horrified stasis. Anna lunged sideways, felt the rush of something hot beside her cheek, heard a muffled pop, saw the man waver, turn and take aim at the Jeep.

  The headlights snapped off, plunging the street into relative darkness once more. Anna flung herself forward, sprinting onto the road. The Jeep loomed, like a glistening, muscular, black beast. She heard the sound of tires grabbing at the slick surface of the road. A door was flung open, hitting her chest so that she reeled and almost lost her footing. She grabbed at the glint of silver she knew was the handle and threw her briefcase in. There was a muffled curse, a big hand closed around her wrist and she was yanked, sprawling, into the passenger seat. The Jeep shot forward. Anna could feel Blade's hand locked into her sweater, holding her in place as he took a corner at high speed.

  She clawed for balance, finally getting her legs beneath her. He released his hold, and she scrambled around so that she was sitting in the seat. Her door banged shut, cutting the roar of the engine. Blade slowed, turned into yet another street, changed gear and flicked a switch. The serene neighbourhood was abruptly illuminated in the sweep of the Jeep's powerful headlights.

  He pulled over beneath the glare of a street lamp, jamming on the brakes so that the Jeep rocked to a halt.

  "Did he get you?" he demanded, grasping her arms, pulling her around so he could examine her.

  Anna recalled the rush of heat beside her cheek, the popping sound. Seber must have shot at her.

  "He missed," she said hollowly, wondering why she couldn't feel more.

  His grip tightened until it was almost bruisingly hard. Then he leaned down and put his mouth on hers. She opened for him, shuddering beneath the raw force of the kiss, dazedly aware that he needed reassurance. The cold numbness splintered as she realised how close she had come to dying. Blade had saved her, but he had almost been too late.

  With a convulsive movement, she threw her arms around his neck, needing to hold him close. Seber had also aimed at Blade. She didn't know if he had gotten off another shot, because the roar of the Jeep had filled her ears, and then Blade had cut the lights and spoiled his aim.

  The kiss ended almost as abruptly as it had started. Blade fastened her seatbelt, then pulled back out onto the road. His expression was set, his eyes glittering whenever they met hers.

  Anna lifted her fingers to her lips; they felt slightly swollen and tingled with warmth. "Where are we going?"

  "My place. And when we get there, you are going to tell me why a hired gun like Eric Seber keeps drawing a bead on you. Was he the reason you ended up in that ditch in Ambrose Park?"

  His voice was deep and very, very calm. Anna decided that she preferred Blade hot and wild and roaring at her to this icy control. "I didn't know his name," she admitted, "but I recognised him."

  *

  Minutes later, Blade pulled into a reserved space in the car park of the Lombard Hotel. As he swung out of the cab, Anna watched a lean man with distinctive wings of silver at his temples detach himself from an elegant group of people. He was in evening dress and had obviously been attending either a formal dinner or some charity function at the hotel.

  The man was backlit so that everything but the silvery hair at his temples was shadowed. As he strode closer, lamplight slid across his high, ascetic cheekbones, the cold, green eyes, his beautifully carved mouth.

  Henry de Rocheford.

  Anna was frozen in place, numb with shock at the chance meeting. She hadn't seen Henry in years, other than in newspaper clippings, and a di
stant part of her took in the changes, the thinning of his face, the harsher lines that somehow made him look even more distinguished.

  The skin at the base of her neck began to crawl, and rage unfurled deep in her belly. He should look like a monster, she thought dimly. Something of what he was should show. Then her survival instincts kicked in, and she ducked down beneath the dash, huddling into a ball.

  Blade turned to lock his door and from his angle caught the gleam of light sliding over Anna's hair as she crawled under the dash.

  "Lombard," de Rocheford said in smooth greeting. "I expected to see you at the fundraiser tonight."

  "De Rocheford," Blade acknowledged, barely concealing his impatience. "I had planned to attend. Something came up."

  And right now that "something" was doing her level best to mould herself to the underside of the Jeep's dash.

  De Rocheford made a few bland enquiries about Blade's family, which he answered, but his mind was working furiously. The newspaper clipping he had picked up in the library popped into his mind. It had been about the Tarrant family and de Rocheford. Blade had assumed the story had been on the back of whatever article she had cut from the paper.

  Abruptly, the connection formed in his mind, so obvious, he wondered he hadn't stumbled on it before.

  Those distinctive grey eyes, the sense of familiarity that had pulled at him. He had seen Anna before, years ago. It was no wonder he hadn't recognised her. She had been a child then, but even as a kid, she'd been arresting, with that dark copper hair and those solemn eyes, the promise of her mother's exquisite bone structure.

  Anna. Anna Tarrant.

  She was the missing Tarrant heiress, and if he wasn't mistaken, de Rocheford was the man she was running from. Blade leaned against the Jeep, his expression neutral, and took a damn good look at a man he'd never noticed much before, and never liked.

  De Rocheford finally left. Blade waited until the Mercedes glided out of the car park; then he went around and jerked Anna's door open. He stared grimly at her huddled figure. "You can come out now."