Twice Upon Time

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“I didn’t come here for this.” Even as the words left his mouth, he pressed his body against hers. “I swear to you, Bianca, I didn’t come here for this.” His hands released her wrists and slid down to cover her breasts. “It is the truth,” he whispered, and lowered his head and took her mouth.

The moment that he tasted her, everything changed. The desire that had been quick and hot and simple was transformed into something infinitely greater. What had been quick became slow and languorous. What had been hot became hotter still—a quick-burning blaze that became the eternal sun. And what had been simple became infinitely complicated as Alessio felt his heart open to Bianca.

Had she ever felt anything like this? His hard body cleaving to hers as if they were one? Hands that fit her breasts so perfectly? A mouth that caressed, tasted, tempted? Had she ever wanted, needed so badly that the desire was as painful as a thorn in her flesh? A minute, she thought. Another minute and she would tear the clothes from her body and beg him to take her now, here, on this rock, with the dawn breaking in the east.

They were meant for each other. The thought struggled through the haze of passion, a single pure lily in a field of florid blooms. It was no longer a mere matter of two bodies that fit together as a hand fits its glove. It was a meeting of hearts. No, it was as if there were a single heart that beat between them, making them one.

It could not be. The realization of what was and what could never be came together, and she pulled away. This time, when she began to struggle, he let her go.

Bianca rolled away from him. Because she wanted to curl up into a ball and weep, she sat up and, with her last bit of strength, recast her tears as furious words meant to conceal her new, terrible understanding.

“What a sorry excuse for a man you are, Alessio! You warn me of outlaws who would rape me and then you do naught but attempt the same thing yourself.”

Remorse, which lay like ashes on his tongue, turned to fury, but he stayed the hand that would have lashed out at her. Once he had touched her, he knew, the anger would turn into passion as surely as ice would turn to water in the heat of the summer sun.

“If I had joined my body to yours, Bianca, you know full well that it would have been your doing and your wish as much as mine.” He shifted closer to her. “Look into my eyes and deny it.”

She met his gaze squarely. “I would have lain with you, Alessio, because my body wanted yours. And it would perhaps have been my doing, but not my wish.”

“Do you truly speak the truth, madonna, or only what you would have be the truth?”

Bianca turned to look out to sea, wanting the water to chum and roil to match the upheaval of her own emotions, but the pale gray water was stubbornly placid as it lapped against the sand. Turning back, she met his gaze again.

“Can something be both truth and lie at once?” Her hands moved in a baffled gesture. “It would have been my wish because I wanted to he with you as I have not wanted aught else in this life.” She saw the flare of triumph in his eyes and raised a hand against it.

“But it was not the wish of my mind or my conscience.”

And your heart? a voice within her whispered. Was it not the wish of your heart?

Her words touched off an echo within him. “Nor did my mind wish it, Bianca. Or my conscience.”

“That makes us even, then.”

“No.” Alessio shook his head. “Do not make it less than it was. It was not merely the desire of a male body for a female one. It was the desire of this man for this woman. Alessio for Bianca.” His mellow voice lowered to a seductive whisper. “For no other.”

“Did I deny that?” She glared at him. “Did I? It was the desire of your body for mine, my body for yours. No more and no less.”

“Why do you demean it?” Bleakness threaded through his anger, blunting its edge.

“There is no ‘it,’ Alessio. You cannot demean what does not exist.” She threw up her chin. “There is nothing between us. Nothing!” She heard the desperation in her own voice and hated it.

“Nothing?” His voice was deceptively soft.

“All right,” she snapped. “A kiss, then. I gave you a kiss, naught else.”

“Bianca, if I had pushed you this much—” Alessio held up thumb and forefinger with barely a space between them “—you would have given me anything. Anything.”

She battled down the thought that she had already given him far more than she had reckoned with.