Spring Bride (Landon's Legacy 4)

It was hard to swallow, to force her lips to move, but finally she did.

“How—how did you get in here?”

“Does it matter?”

“Of course it matters! The door was locked. And what happened to your housekeeper? She was supposed to wake me, not you!”

He shrugged lazily. “Dolores was busy so I decided to do the job myself.” His sapphire gaze moved slowly over her. “Not that you needed to be awakened, I see.”

A flush rose in her cheeks. The robe was heavy and long; she knew he couldn’t see anything but her bare toes and yet she felt as if she were standing naked before him.

“I should have figured you’d have a key to this room, Antonio. And I should have known you wouldn’t hesitate to use it.”

“Ah, querida, your words wound me.” His tone was light and teasing, as was his smile. “I have no key—but then, the door has no lock. None that works, at any rate.” He chuckled as he swung his long legs to the floor. “I suppose I should have told you that.”

“Yes,” Kyra said stiffly, “I suppose you should have. You should also learn that if a door is shut, you’re supposed to knock on it and wait until you’re asked to enter.”

“Another false accusation.” Antonio rose to his feet and came slowly toward her. “I did knock, several times. But there was no answer.”

“Of course there wasn’t. I was in the shower. Didn’t that occur to you?”

“It did, in fact.” His eyes drifted over her again, more slowly this time, lingering all too long on the thrust of her breasts beneath the velour. “I thought, she is probably taking a shower. And when she is done, she will come back into the bedroom, her skin damp and smelling of—is that lilac?”

Kyra’s heart thundered. To take a backward step, to retreat an inch, would be to show him that she was afraid. And she wasn’t. There was nothing to be afraid of. Hadn’t she just convinced herself of that?

“It’s soap,” she said coldly, her chin elevated to an almost impossible angle. “And you can save the sweet talk. I’m not impressed.”

Antonio smiled. “Perhaps my gift will impress you more than my words.”

“I’m trying to tell you, you’re wasting your time. I’m not interested.”

“Is that so?” His shoulders lifted in an easy shrug. “It was Dolores’s suggestion She thought you would like a change of clothes.” He turned away and reached for something on the bed, a small, neat bundle she hadn’t noticed before “No matter I will take what I brought you and—”

“Wait a minute.” Her hand shot out, landed lightly on his arm. His skin was warm and firm to the touch, the hair on it soft and silky. Kyra snatched her hand back and stuffed it into the pocket of the robe. “I—I didn’t realize you meant that you’d brought me clothing.”

Antonio turned toward her. “Did you expect jewels?” He was still smiling, but there was a sudden coldness in his eyes. “But a woman like you must have all the jewels she could possibly want.” He looked at her for a long moment and then he shrugged and handed the bundle to her. “These things will not be a perfect fit but they were the best I could manage on short notice.”

Kyra thought of Dolores, who was at lease five inches shorter and probably eighty pounds heavier.

“That’s all right,” she said as she began unfolding the garments. “I don’t much care about being a fashion plate. I just want to feel cle—” Her words choked to a halt Her head came up and her gaze shot to Antonio’s. “This doesn’t belong to Dolores,” she said, holding out a pair of faded shorts.

“No. It does not. It is mine. All the things I brought are mine.”

“Yours? But-but-”

“But what? Anything of Dolores’s would have been impossible. You are far too slender to wear her skirts or dresses. I would think it will be far simpler to pin the waist.” He hesitated. “But if you prefer…”

“No.” Kyra swallowed dryly. It was silly to be so uncomfortable at the thought of feeling his clothing against her skin. She managed a small, polite smile. “You’re right. Actually, I’ve worn men’s denims lots of times.”

Antonio’s answering smile was even more polite. “I see”

Her eyes flashed. There’d been a world of judgment in those two words. She knew what he thought he saw and she didn’t like it.

“No,” she said coldly, “you do not see. Men’s clothing is not my idea of morning-after attire. What I meant was that I grew up with three brothers. I used to snag their old jeans for my own ”

“Snag?” Antonio frowned. “I do not know the word”

“I used to snitch them. Borrow them…sort of.” She bit back a smile as she remembered the nifty stack of comfortable old Levi’s she’d collected before her brothers figured out what was happening. “My father didn’t approve of girls wearing jeans, so until I was old enough to stand up to him—”

“I am not surprised to hear that you did not like following rules.”

“Rules made arbitrarily aren’t rules,” Kyra said sharply. “They’re commands.”

Antonio’s dark eyebrows rose in amusement. “Is there a difference?”

“Of course there’s a difference! No one should have to obey blindly. It’s—it’s inhuman to expect people to do that.”

His smile faded. “And that is what I am? Inhuman?”

It was on the tip of her tongue to say yes, that was precisely what he was…but it wasn’t quite true. Would a man who was inhuman have gone out of his way to save a pair of puppies from their fate? Would such a man have faced down a knife-wielding drunk to save the neck of a strange woman?

She shrugged her shoulders. “No,” she said stiffly. “I suppose not.”

He laughed softly. “And I suppose that is as close as I will come to a thank-you for bringing you this designer wardrobe.”

She couldn’t help smiling. “Compared to the thought of putting on what I wore yesterday, it’s haute couture.” She took a breath. “Thank you for the clothes.”

The ghost of a smile curled across his lips. “You are welcome.”

Kyra stared at him. He was standing so close that she could see herself reflected in the pupils of his eyes. Two Kyras looked back at her, each with a strange, fevered look.

She swallowed hard. “Is that it?”

Antonio reached out and touched a strand of hair that lay curled against her cheek

“Is that what?” he said, his eyes on hers.

“Is that—is that what you came to do?”

His gaze dropped to her mouth, then returned to her eyes.

“What more would you like me to do?”

His voice was soft and suddenly husky; it drifted across her skin like smoke. She took an inadvertent step back.

“I—I only meant that if you’ve finished talking, I’d like to get dressed.”

“What a pity,” he said softly. “That you wish to get dressed, I mean. I would much prefer you to stay as you are.”

“Antonio,” Kyra said, trying for a forceful tone. “I know you may find this intrusion very amusing, but-”

“Not amusing, querida. Illuminating.”

His fingers stroked across her cheek, following the line of her jaw to her throat. He was touching her gently, yet somehow she could feel a pulse of flame trail behind his caress.

“Don’t—don’t do that,” she said.

“Do what?” His brows rose. “Touch you, you mean?”

“Yes.” Her breath hitched as his hand curled lightly around her throat. “I don’t—I don’t like it.”

He smiled, but his eyes weren’t smiling. They had grown dark and hot.

“Is that the reason I can feel your blood leap here, in the hollow of your throat?”

It was true; she could feel the pounding of her heart beneath the gentle pressure of his thumb. There was no sense in denying it.

“Antonio…” She searched for the words that would protect her, not from him but from whatever darkness was sweeping away her reason. “An

tonio, I’m not—”

“Not what?”

“I don’t—I don’t want you to do this. Please. You asked me a little while ago if—if I thought you were inhuman, and—”

“Ah, querida, that is the problem. I am very much human when I feel the way your skin heats at my touch.” He moved even closer. “And when I see the way your head tilts back just so, and your lips part…” A tremor went through her as he lifted her chin. “I am so human that I think she longs for my kiss, just as I long for hers.”