19

A hundred whispers and hints from conversations over the past few weeks came back to Zach in an instant. Nora Sutherlin’s former lover who still haunted her like the shadow of a ghost was a Catholic priest. And if it weren’t for the fear in her eyes and the dread in his stomach he might have laughed.

“Zach, look at me,” Nora ordered, and Zach wrenched his eyes away from the scene below.

“It’s all right,” Zach said, trying to reassure her.

“No, it isn’t,” she said. “He’s here for a reason and it’s probably not a good one. If he wants me, I have to go with him. I won’t have a choice.”

“Of course you have a choice,” Zach said.

Nora shook her head. “Not down here. House rules. Griffin?”

“Yes, my Mistress in Distress?” Griffin said, clearly taking great pleasure in Nora’s extreme agitation.

“I’ll need you to stay with Zach if you can. Just don’t let him out of your sight. That’s an order.”

“I’m all over it. And him, too, if he’ll let me.”

“He won’t let you,” Zach said, and Griffin grinned at him.

“And Griffin.” She reached out to take Griffin’s face in her hands. “For God’s sake and for the first time in your life, keep your mouth shut.”

Zach expected one of Griffin’s witty retorts but the young man merely nodded. Zach saw something pass between them, some sort of secret understanding that he was apparently not to be privy to. He’d already seen Nora’s former lover was a priest. What else was left to shock him?

“He’s coming,” Griffin whispered and Zach’s heart beat hard in his chest.

Zach sensed a presence behind him. He turned and found himself face-to-face with Nora’s former lover. Almost face-to-face. Although Zach stood six feet tall in bare feet, Søren dwarfed him by at least two or three inches. It wasn’t only his height that was so formidable. Strikingly handsome, he was in his mid-forties but while his lean and angular face looked younger than that, his eyes held aeons in their steely depths. On rare occasions Zach had encountered members of England’s lingering aristocracy. But in his simple black clerics, this man appeared more aristocratic, more imperious and commanding than any baron, any duke, any prince he’d ever glimpsed. Now Zach understood the source of Nora’s fear. If God himself was intimidated by this man, Zach wouldn’t have been surprised.

“Eleanor,” Søren spoke first. “Would you care to introduce me to your friend?”

Zach heard the remnant of an accent in his voice. With the name Søren, Zach might have expected a Scandinavian accent and with his impeccable blond hair and steel-gray eyes, Søren certainly looked the part. But in the echo of his inflection Zach heard the slightest trace of something more familiar, the faintest English accent.

“Søren—” Nora’s voice fluttered. “This is Zachary Easton, my editor. Zach, this is Søren, my…”

“Priest is the word Eleanor is looking for, I believe.” Søren spoke with authoritarian hauteur. “You are her editor, Mr. Easton, so I believe helping her find her words is your job, yes? I don’t believe I see a red pen on your person. Are you off duty tonight?”

“Nora just wanted me to help with her research for her book.” Zach sensed Søren weighing him. Zach had an inkling that no matter what he did or said, he would be found wanting.

“Research?” The word seemed to amuse him. Nora stood silent next to Zach; her skin flushed and her hands gripped her riding crop handle with white-knuckled force. “Yes, Eleanor is quite thorough in her research. Eleanor, accompany me please. I need a moment with you.”

“Actually, we were about to leave.” Zach stepped between Nora and Søren.

Søren raised his chin and gazed down on Zach with an expression of ironic detachment. His eyes took in the white flag around Zach’s arm and he raised an eyebrow in apparent amusement. Zach stared at the white collar around Søren’s neck before meeting the priest’s eyes again. But Søren seemed untouchable—no guilt, no embarrassment, not even the slightest hint of shame haunted his eyes. Søren slowly raised his hand right next to Nora’s ear. He snapped his fingers, and Nora flinched at the echoing sound. Søren pointed to the floor at his side, and Nora stepped out and stood where Søren had indicated. Zach wanted to pull her back and run with her as far and fast away from this man as they could. But Nora met his eyes for the briefest moment, and he saw someone he’d never seen before reflected back. No one handles Nora Sutherlin, J.P. had said and Zach had begun to believe it. Now he knew he’d met the one man who could.

“House rules,” she explained with an apology in her wan smile.

Søren inclined his head regally and took a step forward.

They walked away toward a black door next to the end of the bar. Søren held the door open for Nora and as she stepped past him to enter the room, he gripped her by the back of the neck. Zach took a step forward, but Griffin put his hand out to stop him.

“Don’t even think about it, man,” Griffin warned. “I’m not his biggest fan, either, but you come down here, you obey the rules and you respect the ruler.”

“Is she all right?” Zach asked, scared for Nora but feeling impotent to help her in this strange world.

“She’ll be fine. He won’t hurt her.”

“Are you certain of that?”

Griffin looked at the door that had just closed behind Nora. He looked back at Zach.

“No.”

* * *

Nora tried to stay calm as Søren escorted her to the dimly lit bar stockroom. She counted her breaths and tried to slow her racing heart. It didn’t work. Søren opened the door and Nora risked one quick look back at Zach standing with Griffin. He watched her with a question in his eyes. She didn’t know how to answer it.

She wasn’t surprised when Søren grabbed her by the neck as she slipped through the door. The neck was the most vulnerable part of the human body—Søren always went for her weak spots and having just humiliated her in front of Zach meant only one thing: he wanted her.

The door shut behind them. In an instant, Søren had turned her toward him. She was in his arms, his mouth on hers. He tasted like fire and wine. She pressed into him, the dawn of her body meeting the horizon of his. It had been so long since she’d given herself over to him. She didn’t care that Zach was waiting right outside. For a moment she didn’t even remember Zach or the promise she made Wesley. She stiffened as he grasped her by the wrist. With one adept movement he had her arm twisted behind her back, her stomach flat against the wall.

Panting with need, she closed her eyes as Søren lifted the back of her skirt. She knew what was coming and didn’t try to fight it. She breathed him in, inhaling his perfect scent, the scent of winter that clung to him in every season. His mouth lingered at her neck; his warm breath on her bare skin sent a shiver through her whole body. She waited for him to penetrate her but he was too cruel for that. She heard Søren release the slightest throaty gasp, and he came instead on the back of her thighs.

Nora swallowed a groan of frustration. He loved punishing her by withholding himself. Instead of taking her, he’d merely marked his territory. Bastard. Søren pulled away as she yanked her skirt back down and turned to face him.

“Now that the pleasantries are out of the way, let’s talk, shall we, little one?”

“What did I do now?” she demanded. “Obviously I’m in trouble…again.”

A quiver of tension shot through her as Søren raised a single finger and ran it from under her ear, down her neck and across her naked shoulder. He leaned forward and whispered.

“Deep trouble.”

* * *

Zach sat next to Griffin on one of the barstools. He tried not to appear too gauche next to this unabashedly half-naked young man.

“So what do you think of our little acre of Hell?” Griffin asked, reaching over the bar to grab a bottle of water.