Wry amusement glinted in his eyes. “I’m trying to slow things down a little.”
“Under the circumstances, it’s a little late to worry about being PC.”
His hands closed on her hips, pulling her in close against him. “Is that un-PC enough for you?”
She buried her face against his throat, breathing in his scent, reassured by his tentativeness, charmed by his consideration and the touches of humor. “What are you afraid of? That you might lose control and we’ll end up having unprotected sex?”
He reached into his pocket. Moments later he pressed a foil packet into her hand. “That won’t happen again.”
Suddenly the murky afternoon was hot and airless.
His mouth captured hers again, this time frankly hungry. She felt the hot glide of his palms on her chilled skin as he peeled the damp camisole up her rib cage. Obligingly, she lifted her arms so he could dispose of the garment altogether. Moments later her bra was gone.
She braced herself against his shoulders as he unfastened her shorts and peeled them along with her panties down her legs.
When he straightened, she unfastened and unzipped his jeans. He assisted by toeing off his trainers and stepping out of damp, tight denim.
Lacing her fingers with his, he pulled her close. Heat flooded her at the intimacy of skin on skin.
The sound of the wind increased, damp air stirred through the cavern, raising gooseflesh on her skin. Zane wrapped her close. “This is no place to make love.”
She buried her face in the muscled curve of shoulder and neck and breathed in his scent. “It was good enough for Sebastien and Sophie.”
“Almost seventy years ago.” He cupped her nape and fastened his teeth gently on the lobe of one ear, sending a bolt of heat clear through her. “I was thinking modern-day bed, silk sheets, soft music.”
“Where’s your sense of adventure?”
“Back in L.A.,” he said drily.
Releasing her, he pulled her down with him onto the chaise longue, their legs tangling, the weight of him shatteringly intimate. The chaise longue was narrow and unexpectedly hard, but the discomfort was instantly forgotten as the heat of his body swamped her.
She kissed him, wanting him with a fierceness that shook her. She could feel the heat and shape of him against her inner thigh and remembered the foil packet, which she was still holding. “I might need some help with this.”
His teeth gleamed. He relieved her of the condom. “Leave it to me.”
With expert movements, he sheathed himself, reminding her that while she was a novice, Zane operated at the other end of the scale. His experience and conquests were legendary. Seconds later, he moved between her legs. She felt the hot pressure of him, a moment of shaky vulnerability at what she was allowing, then the aching rush of pleasure.
For long seconds she couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. Zane simply held himself inside her, his gaze locked with hers. And endless moment later he began to move. Not hurried and edged by anxiety, but a slow, tender rhythm that squeezed her chest tight, gathered her whole being. Lovemaking as opposed to the stormy few seconds they had shared in Sydney.
Zane’s gaze locked with hers as sensation drew them together, swept her in dizzying waves, shoving her over an invisible precipice as the coiled intensity shattered.
For long minutes Lilah floated, disconnected and content, happy to wallow in the intimacy of Zane’s solid weight, the heart-pounding knowledge that there was much more to lovemaking than she had ever imagined.
As if he’d read her thoughts, he lifted his head and braced himself on one elbow. He framed her face with his free hand, stroking his thumb across her bottom lip. “Next time, we’re making love in a bed.”
The vibration of Zane’s cell broke the warm contentment.
He extracted his phone from his jeans and checked the screen. “Sorry. Work call. The downside of a satellite connection.” Pulling on his jeans, he walked out into the first part of the cavern to take the call.
Cold now that Zane was gone, Lilah found her damp clothes and quickly dressed. The squall had passed and watery sunshine filtered into the cave, relieving the oppressive gloom.
Curious about the meeting place of the two lovers who apparently had been forbidden to see each other, she studied the room. When Sophie had disappeared during a bombing raid during the war, it was rumored that Sebastien had taken her with him to Australia. Sebastien had denied the claim. The unresolved questions had been a bone of contention between the two families ever since.
Lilah opened a cupboard in the dresser and found a small wooden box and a letter. The box contained a missing set of bridal jewels that she instantly recognized. She had designed jewelry based on Sebastien’s sketches of this very set. They had belonged to the Atraeus family, and Sebastien had been blamed for stealing them.
Heart speeding up, she extracted a piece of fragile, yellowed paper. She could read a little Medinian, better than she could speak it, enough to know she was looking at a love letter.
Zane strolled in, sliding the phone into his jeans pocket. She showed him the jewels then handed him the letter.
“Sophie Atraeus’s final love letter to Sebastien Ambrosi.” He set the letter down beside the casket of jewels. “Well, that solves the mystery. Sophie boarded one of the ships that sank with all hands. She was lost at sea.”
“And she left the bridal jewels here.”
“Probably for safekeeping. When the islands were evacuated, a lot of families hid their valuables in caves. To Sophie it would have made perfect sense.”
Lilah touched her fingertips to a delicate filigree necklace. “These are more than jewels, they’re history. And a record of love.”
Zane’s dark, assessing gaze rested on her.
Feeling faintly embarrassed, she closed the box and tested her weight on her sore ankle. “I think I can walk now.”
Zane took the box from her, set it down on the table and drew her close. “Not yet. Later.”
By the time they left the cave, the storm had cleared and it was twilight. A slow walk down the hillside, heavily assisted by Zane, and they reached the house on sunset. The fairy-tale quality of the afternoon extended into the evening with another candlelit dinner beneath the stars.
The tension of the previous night seemed a distant memory as the dishes were cleared away. When Zane pulled back her chair and linked his fingers with hers, it seemed the most natural thing in the world to go to bed together.
When Lilah woke the next morning, she was alone. Feeling disappointed, because she had looked forward to waking up with Zane, she quickly showered and dressed in a white halterneck top and muslin skirt. When she walked out onto the deck, still limping slightly, Zane was seated at the table, drinking coffee and answering emails.
Zane got to his feet and held her chair. “Your ankle’s still swollen.”
“Only a little. The stiffness should wear off while I walk.” Feeling let down that he hadn’t kissed her, but reasoning that Zane was probably distracted by whatever work situation he was dealing with, she sat and poured herself a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice.
“You won’t need to walk much.” Zane bent down and kissed her on the mouth.
The warm pressure, the sudden intensity