Nicole Jordan by Master of Temptation

Author:Master of Temptation [Temptation, Master of]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter

Ten

“You say Apollo created this lake for Cyrene’s bath?” Max murmured lazily three afternoons later. They were lying naked on a rock ledge near the cascading waterfall, drenched in sunlight, Max on his back, Caro half dozing on her stomach beside him, her cheek pillowed on her arms.

At the skeptical amusement in his tone, Caro returned a sleepy smile. “So legend holds. More logically, forces of nature formed the lake. Rain collects here in this little vale along with the flow from several hot springs that originate higher up. Our two mountains were once volcanos and still generate heat—which is what the Romans harnessed to build their baths.”

“The Romans had the right idea,” he observed, shutting his eyes with a contented sigh. “But I’m glad they didn’t spoil this place.”

The setting had much to do with his enchantment, Max acknowledged. Caro’s hideaway was unbelievably beautiful, splendorous and wild, truly a seductive paradise. But it was a haven as well. He could feel the healing effect as he lay letting the golden warmth touch his body, the peace seep into his soul.

Yet Caro herself had proved a more profound remedy than even the tranquillity. She had stilled the restlessness of his mind, if not his body.

In turn he had tried to calm her restlessness. They had met here at her secret grotto each of the past three days, spending long hours in sensual exploration, indulging in the wildness and desire of new lovers. Their passion was alternately urgent and tender, and, for Caro, an exercise in learning patience. Max could tell she still chafed at the delay of rescuing her captive friend, but she was making a visible effort to quell her anxiety.

Opening his eyes, Max turned his head to gaze at her. The sun beamed down richly, bathing her creamy skin in golden light—and once again rousing his craving for her.

He reached out to touch her shining hair, forcing the clawing rawness of desire to mute.

Just then a sharp hoot sounded above the rush of the falls, coming from the oak branches directly overhanging their ledge. Max jolted upright as if he’d heard a pistol shot. “What the devil…?”

“There is no need for alarm,” Caro said in a soothing voice. Rising to her knees, she peered up through the leaves. “Hello, George.”

Max caught sight of a fluffy brown ball that was nearly concealed by the foliage. An owl, by the looks of it.

With a puffing of feathers, the bird let out another plaintive hoot—“Tyoo!”—and moved along the limb, closer to Caro.

“This is George,” she murmured, smiling. “A scops owl. I found him here with a broken wing two years ago.”

George seemed small for an owl, Max thought, but he had huge eyes that stared piercingly at the strange interloper.

“So you nursed George back to health?”

“Yes, and it took weeks. I fashioned a splint and kept him tethered and fed until he was healed. But even after I gave him his freedom, he chose to stay here. He usually comes out only at night, though.

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