Full Exposure

скачать книгу бесплатно


He tucked her against his chest and wrapped his coat around her. She not only looked like a marble statue, she felt as cold and unyielding. He rubbed his hands over her back to generate heat. “Think warm thoughts.”

Her slender limbs trembled and her teeth chattered. “This takes the prize for the most…friendly first date I’ve ever had.”

“It’s survival,” he reminded himself as much as her. “It’s nothing personal.”

Her breathing rapid, she was trembling too hard, betraying her unease with their intimacy. “From where I’m sitting, it feels…ah…enormously personal.”

Their mutual misgivings didn’t quench the simmering attraction. He swore softly. The troops had bounced back from medical furlough to active duty. “I am a man.” With a gorgeous, nearly naked woman cuddled in his arms.

“As if your manliness was ever in doubt.”

“Relax, Ariana. I would never take advantage of a woman in distress.”

“What are we going to do, Dante? We could die.”

She was striving to be brave, and the quiver of fear in her voice tore at his heart. “I am not so easy to kill. And I won’t let you die, mia cara.” He knew some of her stiffness was due to the fact that she was hurting, but to her credit, she didn’t complain. He had no weapons, no food, no water. The only thing he could do was keep her warm and prevent her from going into shock.

He sought a diversion. For her and himself. “Tell me a story.”

She started. “What?”

“You have an affinity for stories, yes? I have never had time for such things. It will take our minds off our discomfort, pass the hours until morning.”

“Hmm…okay. I’ll tell you one of my favorites.” She inhaled. “Once upon a time, on a Greek island far, far away, a mortal princess named Psyche—which means soul—grew famous for her beauty. Have you heard this one?”

“No.”

“All right. Well, Psyche was kind and generous, and everyone adored her and claimed she was more exquisite than Aphrodite, the goddess of love. Even on her best day, Aphrodite was temperamental, and she grew enraged. She ordered her son Eros, the god of love, to shoot Psyche with a magical arrow and make her fall in love with a revolting monster. But Eros tumbled headlong in love with the princess and couldn’t force himself to carry out his duty.”

She finally relaxed in his embrace, and Dante smiled. “I am all ears.”

Ariana chuckled. “While it’s not nice to fool Mother Nature, it’s deadly to mess with Aphrodite. She cursed Psyche with a spell so no man would find her appealing. Psyche’s worried parents trekked to the Oracle at Delphi, who proclaimed that the princess was destined to belong to an entity who flew through the night like a huge winged serpent. A being so powerful that even Zeus, the king of the gods, could not withstand him.

“Psyche was smart enough to understand she’d annoyed the goddess and courageous enough to protect her family. She accepted the future the Fates had decreed. Her grieving family accompanied her to the top of the mountain where the beast would find her. Psyche couldn’t stop her tears as she hugged her parents and sisters goodbye.

“Alone, she braced herself to die, but instead, a gentle wind lifted her up and rocked her to sleep. She awoke inside a palace. A kind male voice proclaimed her mistress of the mansion. After she’d bathed, gowns and jewels appeared, along with a sumptuous banquet.”

“Va bene. I am beginning to see why you like this story.”

She returned his smile and his pulse skipped a beat. “That night, when darkness enveloped the castle, the man spoke again, and said he was her new husband. Psyche couldn’t picture the compelling voice belonging to a hideous beast. His words were loving and sweet, and he treated her tenderly.

“Unbeknownst to Psyche, Eros had secretly taken her for his bride. Because he feared Aphrodite’s wrath on his beloved, he couldn’t reveal his identity.

“Psyche grew to deeply love her undercover husband. He promised her everything she wanted, except seeing his face. He warned her if that happened, he would be forced to leave. She assured him his appearance didn’t matter, she loved his heart. She pleaded for him to come to her in the daylight, but he sadly refused. He said the day she saw his true form, their happiness would die.”

Dante shifted, and his abused muscles protested. Suddenly, he wasn’t liking this story so much. When Ariana hesitated, he rubbed her back. “Go on.”

“One night, Psyche reminisced about her family. Because Eros was a god, he knew a visit would rain down doom, but surrendered to the aching loneliness in his bride’s voice.

“When Psyche’s sisters arrived and saw the spoils, they jealously taunted her with the rumor that gullible Psyche was married to a dragon who planned to devour her. They urged her to peek at him while he slept. Psyche resisted, but finally curiosity prevailed, pushed by peer pressure. Was her husband her true love…or an evil monster? After he fell asleep beside her, Psyche lit a lamp. Instead of a deformed beast she saw the glorious beauty of the god of love…and realized he’d been protecting her from the mother-in-law from Hades.

“Overcome by shame, contrition seared her heart. In her shock, her hands trembled and she spilled hot oil onto her lover’s shoulder. Eros startled awake and realized what she had done. He cried out in sorrow, ‘Where there is no trust, there can be no love.’ He fled, and the palace crumbled into dust, leaving Psyche alone and miserable.”

Ariana’s voice softened, and she curled into him. “When Aphrodite learned her son had disobeyed her, she imprisoned him in a high tower. But Psyche refused to give up her one true love. Aphrodite wanted Psyche to suffer. She gave Psyche two impossible tasks with lethal consequences. Psyche was aided in the first by a colony of ants and in the second by the river naiads. What neither Psyche nor Aphrodite realized was that Eros was watching over Psyche from his prison and sending her help.

“When Psyche succeeded, Aphrodite decided to send her son’s bride to hell…literally. Aphrodite commanded her to go to the Queen of the Underworld and capture her beauty in a box. She was warned not to open it.

“A forlorn Psyche thought Eros had abandoned her, and resigned herself to the fact that no human could find their way back from the dark Underworld. But as she descended into Hades, a voice whispered the escape route in her ear. It was Eros, disguising his identity on the secret telepathic channel.”

Dante’s lips quirked as he enjoyed Ariana’s original narration, and he was relieved that she seemed warmer than before.

“Once Psyche returned to the sunlight, she vowed to resume her fight. But time in hell had made her a disheveled mess. If she wanted her man back, she had to look gorgeous. Psyche opened the box to borrow a smidgen of the Underworld Queen’s beauty. But the spells of gods are too powerful for mortals and knocked her out.

“Lucky for her, Eros escaped. He found his wife unconscious in the forest and woke her with a forgiving kiss. He went over Aphrodite’s head to the gods on Mount Olympus. The star-crossed lovers’ devotion touched them, and Zeus summoned Aphrodite and put his foot down. Eros had proved his love for Psyche, and Psyche had proved her dedication, patience and obedience.

“There was only one solution. Psyche was brought to Olympus and Zeus offered her the cup of immortality. She drank the ambrosial nectar and was transformed into the goddess of fidelity. Eros swept Psyche into his arms, and the lovers were united, heart and soul, for all eternity.”

Ariana finished her tale and went silent. After a few moments, her soft, warm cheek rested on Dante’s chest.

He listened as her breathing grew deep and even. The night closed around him, and the tenderness tugging at his heart turned to sharp claws of terror.

Like Eros, he’d been sent on a covert mission to bring down a woman…and found himself confronted by a dilemma he’d never expected. Assaulted by feelings he didn’t dare investigate.

During Ariana’s captivity, her lovely face had creased with concentration as she had listened to her iPod and scribbled in her notebook. She wasn’t merely writing stories. He’d tried to confiscate both items, but she’d thwarted him.

He frowned. Did she still have them, or had they been lost during the explosion? Ariana murmured and snuggled closer. The fact that she’d lowered her shields and fallen asleep in his lap did something strange to his insides.

Where there is no trust, there can be no love.

The cold, hard truth. His stomach knotted. Deception was his job. He lied and stole and strove to earn people’s trust…so he could betray them. He was damn good at it.

One way or another, he would obtain the information he needed. He glanced down at Ariana and his throat constricted.

How much of his soul would it cost him to use that information against the woman sleeping trustfully in his arms?

CHAPTER FOUR

DANTE ENDURED THE NIGHT in a restless vigil that enabled him to leap to awareness. His eyelids slitted open as an anemic sunrise crawled above the horizon.

Gunmetal clouds glowered overhead. Wind-lashed waves reflected a leaden sky. A vile mood gnawed at his temper, and his body ached with pain…and arousal.

In contrast to the foul elements, the sweet morsel sleeping in his lap was warm and soft and tantalizing. And off-limits.

He scowled. It was going to be a terrific day.

He’d been livid when Ariana’s meddling at the dig site had caused his boss to yank him out of the smuggling ring to protect her. He’d lost eighteen months of planning and groundwork. Lost his position inside the Camorra.

Dante clenched his jaw. He’d used the resentment to sustain distance between them. But after six weeks babysitting Ariana, he’d lost his perspective. Last night when she was vulnerable, he should have targeted the opportunity to interrogate her again. Instead, he’d encouraged her to indulge in fairy tales.

He’d lost his damn mind.

He shifted away from the boulder digging into his spine, and Ariana stirred. Her long lashes fluttered up, and he fell into her deep, blue gaze. He hadn’t been afraid when the Greek was holding him underwater, but now fear uncoiled inside him.

He was in over his head.

Drowning.

Ariana’s wary glance assessed him. She’d have to be oblivious not to notice his reaction. Signorina Bennett had plenty of smarts.

“Hi.” Her husky contralto sounded sleepy. “I don’t think this is exactly what the cruise line intended when they offered me a job with travel and excitement.”

He surfaced, clinging to a life preserver of irritation. Liking her would only make double-crossing her more painful. He fought the urge to smile, managed a frown. “If we’re going to survive, we cannot loll around all day.”

“Drat, there goes my plan to stake out a beach blanket and sip lemonade.” She wrinkled her nose. “Are you always Prince Charming in the mornings?”

“There’s a reason the story you related last night is called a myth. Devoted princes, love eternal and happily ever after don’t exist.”

“But every woman pines for a high-maintenance guy who demands she sacrifice herself.” Ariana snorted. “I don’t know why Psyche thought a man was worth that much trouble, or pain.”

He narrowed his eyes. “And Eros was foolish to sacrifice his duty and honor.”

“Well, now that we’ve solved the imaginary problems of mythical beings, we can concentrate on escape.” She sat up, and he didn’t miss her wince of pain. “Priority one—where’s the ladies’ room?”

Like him, she was cut and bruised and must be hungry, thirsty and sore. Some women would complain, or cry. He couldn’t help but admire her fortitude and determination. “Twelve meters down, second boulder on the left.”

“See?” The sensual brush of her silky limbs ignited a fire in his belly. “You can smile without cracking your face. That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

Obviously, Ariana had chosen to ignore his blatant arousal. Hard didn’t begin to cover it.

“Dante, would you mind indulging me again?”

His pulse leaped, and his intent gaze held hers captive. Mia cara, I would indulge you as many times as you could handle…and more.

Her pupils dilated and her breath hitched in a small sound that made his heart stumble. “Um…please close your eyes so I can dress?”

Dante ground his back teeth in frustration. “Believe me, bella, you do not possess anything I have not seen before.”

“No doubt, but I’m not in the habit of providing a free peep show. And there aren’t enough euros in the western hemisphere.” She waved. “Now close those big brown eyes.”

Cold reality chilled his ardor. She was right.

Involvement with her could cost him everything.

He had a job to do. He couldn’t afford to pay her price. Both of them would pay dearly—with their lives—if he botched it.

He hadn’t survived years in a cutthroat occupation by being gullible enough to shut his eyes or turn his back on anyone. But he ducked his head when she slid off his lap—as much for himself as for her.

He finished dressing first and shot a glance sideways. Though she blocked the furtive movements, he watched her unearth a plastic-wrapped parcel from beneath a rock and cram it in her hip pocket. She still had her secrets.

And so did he.

Dante averted his gaze as she rose and stepped toward him. “I’m ready.” He pivoted, and she gingerly rubbed her back. “Camping on the beach sounds so romantic in stories. I don’t know about you, but sleeping on sand redefines abrasion. When I get back, we can explore.”

As he watched her slowly meander down the beach, a lightning bolt of desire seared him and he swore. Ariana was either remarkably naive, or the most cunning opponent he’d ever crossed blades with. And he’d parried with plenty of players.

Either way, he was in trouble.

He had to stay alert. Censor every word and action, so he didn’t end up speared on his own rapier.

Then again, perhaps that was his destiny.

But he’d prefer not to die today. Dante stalked in the opposite direction to complete morning necessities, and then strode to the foamy surf. He stepped over the abandoned oar and crouched to wash his hands. Hoping to invigorate his brain, he splashed his face with cold seawater.

“Dante!” Ariana yelled.

Adrenaline rocketed through his system. He snatched the oar and surged to his feet. Heart pounding, he spun, ready for battle.

Stumbling toward him, she pointed at the bluff. “Look!”

Dante tilted his head. At the top of the mountain, weak sunlight flickered on glass. The energy pumping through him ratcheted up a notch. “There appears to be a house at the crest of the bluff.” Set back from the hillside, the cottage was a speck in the craggy landscape.

She grabbed his hand. “Let’s go!”

“Un momento.” Dante shocked Ariana by towing her up the rocky shoals and into the lee of the cliff.

Her temper ignited and she rounded on him. “What is your problem?”

“You are my problem.” Dante glowered at her. “Like it or not, you are mine to protect. And I will do what I must to keep you alive.”

Ariana inhaled a slow breath. He meant well. Dante had saved her life…several times. And taken several beatings. “I appreciate that. But I asked you to stop yanking me around like a sock puppet.”

“I am not accustomed to decision by committee. In my world, hesitation is lethal.” Dante scrubbed a hand over his beard. “We were not left here at random. We don’t know who resides in that house. Who is watching us. Whether they will help us or try to kill us.”

Her hopes plummeted. Absolutely right. She was in his territory, and he held the key to survival. “Valid point.” If Dante thought he felt odd making decisions by committee, he had no idea how off balance she felt at reacting with her emotions. The life-or-death events she’d faced the past few weeks, and especially the past few days, had outed a primitive facet of herself. A wildness that scared her, but once loosed wouldn’t be caged. “Now what?”

Dante’s biceps flexed as he raised his knee and snapped the bottom off the oar. His swift, graceful demonstration of masculine power left her gaping. No one of her acquaintance could do anything as impressive.

Dante handed her the staff and inclined his head at the twisted, vertical path scored into the bluff. “Now we climb.”

The rugged goat track was barely wide enough for them to trudge side by side. Steely clouds crowded the sky, and as they left the beach, wind gusts buffeted them. He insisted she wear his coat, though two of her could fit inside. It smelled deliciously of supple leather…and Dante.

She struggled to keep up his challenging pace. Dried scrub and rocks jutted from the terrain and gnarled cypress trees clung to the hillside. Her sore muscles protested every step, and the walking stick helped. During her years of asthma attacks, she had endured not feeling well, but even then, whining wasn’t in her nature. Dante had said she was his problem, and her pride refused to give him more reasons to resent her. She would not be a burden. She raised her chin and soldiered on.

Talking would have deflected her misery as they toiled up the rocky incline, but Dante’s monosyllabic replies discouraged her numerous attempts at conversation. The only sounds were the surf’s rhythmic crash from below and squawking seagulls.