Emerald Garden (33 page)

“Brandi …” It was part protest, part plea, but Brandi hadn’t the chance to address either. With an urgency as exciting as it was undeniable, Quentin tugged her head back and buried his mouth in hers. “Christ, I want you.” He rasped the words against her parted lips, his arms tightening about her at the same time his tongue pressed deep into her mouth, taking her with deep hungry strokes. He gave her no time to breathe, devouring her with a hunger too long suppressed, a relentless determination that enveloped her and cherished her all at once.

With a whimper of joy, Brandi joined in the pagan beauty of the kiss. She met his tongue, melded it with her own, and pressed closer—until the silk of her nightrail was brushing the sensitive nakedness of his chest.

“Sunbeam, you’re killing me.” Even as he spoke, he rubbed his torso to hers, increasing the friction, intensifying the yearning. His hands slid around to cup her breasts, cradling them in his palms while his thumbs caressed her nipples into tight, hard points of need.

“Oh God.” Instinctively, Brandi arched closer to the exquisite torture, her breasts aching, pleading for more. “Quentin …” Her fingers glided through his hair, urging him closer. “Please.”

Rational thought eclipsed by need, Quentin lowered his head, closing his mouth around one hardened nipple, tugging at it through the confines of her nightrail. He drew the moist silk into his mouth, his tongue curling about the rigid peak, arousing it further with the wildly erotic friction of her damp nightrail as it rubbed against her sensitized breast.

Brandi was going to die.

Her legs gave out and her eyes closed, lulled by the elated sensation of Quentin scooping her into his arms, carrying her to the bed.

Her elation died a quick death when she realized he wasn’t joining her.

Her eyes flew open, dazed, questioning as they sought him out.

“Quentin?”

He didn’t answer immediately, his fists clenched at his sides, his lungs dragging in great calming gulps of air.

“Quentin?” she repeated, raising up on her elbows.

Slowly, he sank down beside her, keeping a careful distance between them as he took her hand in his. “I’ve been a fool, Sunbeam,” he said solemnly. “Trying to deny the undeniable, to change what cannot be changed, to ignore something far too powerful to elude. The die has been cast. But you knew that all along, didn’t you? As always, you recognized my feelings better than I.”

“Say the words,” Brandi put in softly. “Whether or not I know them to be true, I need to hear you say them. Please.”

He kissed her fingertips. “I love you, Brandi. Hopelessly. Helplessly.” He caught her as she flung herself into his arms, buried his face in her hair. “I’m so bloody in love with you. And I don’t know what to do.”

Brandi laughed softly, exuberance bubbling inside her like uncorked champagne. “Inexperienced though I might be, I’d say you were doing quite well until a moment ago.”

He didn’t smile. “So well that in approximately one more minute I was going to tear that nightrail from your body and bury myself so deep inside you that I’d bind you to me forever.” An ironic laugh. “Do you hear me? Talking about forever? With one war just behind me and another just ahead, the bloody realist who swore never to offer you promises I couldn’t keep. And here I am, proclaiming my undying love, wanting you more than I want my next breath, aching to make you mine in a way I have no right to do. God, Sunbeam, I tried so damned hard to stop this from happening. But it’s no use. It’s no bloody use.”

“Quentin—don’t.” Leaning back, Brandi silenced him with a forefinger to his lips. “You’re torturing yourself for an emotion that’s as natural as the sunrise, and equally as impossible to repress. For days now, I’ve been listening to you spout nonsense about why we cannot allow our feelings to be termed
love,
why you’re all wrong for me. Isn’t it time you gave me a chance to speak?”

Uncertainly, he nodded.

“I love you, Quentin Steel.” Brandi lay her palm over his heart. “I could never love anyone else. I have never loved anyone else. But just because I’ve loved you all my life doesn’t mean that my love is the same now as it was then. It’s changed, Quentin. Changed and reshaped and grown. When you left England four years ago, I was a child. Now I’m a woman. My love is stronger, deeper than anything a child could understand, much less feel. But it’s also richer for having sprung from the closest and most wondrous of friendships.” A reminiscent smile touched Brandi’s lips. “I
know
you, Quentin. I shared your pride when you received your captain’s commission—a commission that was earned, not bought. I reveled in your exhilaration when General Wellington himself requested your presence in Europe, affirming that you and you alone had the sophisticated skills needed to break French codes. I understood your fierce commitment to England. I understand it still. Do you truly believe I’d let you turn your back on all that just to spend forever by my side?” Her fingers drifted around to caress his nape. “I’ve grown up, Quentin—and I don’t just mean physically. Yes, losing Papa, Pamela, and Kenton was devastating. Yes, I was drowning, seeking something to cling to, something that would last forever. ’Tis only natural that I turned to you to fill that role. But don’t confuse a temporary show of dependence bred by shock and grief with inherent emotional fragility. I’m strong. I survived. I shall continue to survive.” Her voice quavered. “Now more than ever. Because now I know you love me.”

“Brandi …” Quentin’s hand shook as he pressed her head to his chest.

“You’ve opened your heart,” she breathed. “Now open your eyes. Stop fighting. ’Tis time to concede.” She smiled through her tears. “Do you know, you’re still the very worst of losers? You refuse to yield, even when it’s clear the contest has long since been lost. Whether ’tis a race or your heart at stake, you fight to the bitter end and then, when surrender is inevitable, you do so in a most grudging manner.” Raising up, she brushed her lips across his. “A most unbecoming trait. One I suggest you rectify. Oh, I recognize only too well how you loathe relinquishing that impervious control of yours, but that’s one of love’s inevitable effects.” A twinkle. “And if you must yield to someone, hadn’t it best be me? I won’t promise to leave your control intact, but I will vow to guard your heart with my life.”

“My heart is yours, Sunbeam.”

“As mine is yours. And, being that I could never pledge myself to a man I didn’t love—and that the only man I’ll ever love is you—your fate is sealed. All or nothing, you said.” Brandi buried her face in his throat. “I want all.”

“And when I leave England?” Quentin managed hoarsely, gathering handfuls of her hair.

“Then I’ll ache for you. And pray for you. And await your return.” She twined her arms about his neck. “But, above all, I’ll love you.”

With a rough sound, Quentin covered her mouth with his, crushing her against him and possessing her with a naked urgency spawned by the budding hope that all he longed for could possibly be his.

“I can’t walk away,” he told her, his voice husky with the bittersweet joy of surrender. “I need you too damned much.”

“Oh, Quentin …”

A sharp knock intruded.

“Miss Brandi?” Mrs. Collins’s tentative voice reached their ears. “Herbert and I noticed your light was burning. I thought you might be hungry. So, I brought you some warm milk and a slice of pie.”

Breaking apart, Quentin and Brandi stared dazedly at each other.

“Miss Brandi? Are you awake, dear?” The sound of a tray being shifted, presumably for balance, suggested that the housekeeper intended to enter the room and determine Brandi’s condition firsthand.

In one quick motion, Quentin lifted Brandi from the bed, jerking the bedcovers out from under her and depositing her beneath. Then he bolted to his feet, simultaneously buttoning his shirt and tying his cravat. He bent forward, lightly touching Brandi’s eyelids and gesturing for her to close them.

Brandi nodded her understanding and complied, listening to the sounds of Quentin’s footsteps as he crossed over and opened the door. “She just dozed off,” he whispered to Mrs. Collins. “I’m hoping she’ll sleep through the night. I was about to extinguish the lamp and retire to my bedchamber.”

“Oh, forgive me, my lord,” the housekeeper replied anxiously. “I hope my knock didn’t awaken her.”

“I don’t think so,” Quentin assured her. “And no forgiveness is necessary. Your gesture was very thoughtful. Actually—” Quentin’s natural charm took over, a palpable entity Brandi need not open her eyes to discern. “As Brandi is not awake to savor it, and as it so happens I’m famished, would you object to my enjoying your pie?”

“I’d be delighted, my lord.” Brandi could actually hear Mrs. Collins beam. “I’ll run down to the kitchen and bring you a larger portion.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Quentin interceded hastily. “This slice is more than sufficient. What I would appreciate is if you would bring the tray to my chambers. I want to make certain Brandi is sleeping comfortably before I retire for the night.”

“Certainly. I’ll do it this instant.”

Her solid footsteps disappeared down the hall.

Quentin closed the door. “You can open your eyes now, Sunbeam. Mrs. Collins and her pie are gone.”

Brandi raised up on her elbows, met Quentin’s gaze. “And had she not arrived in the first place?”

His eyes darkened to a deep smoky gray as the implicit meaning of Brandi’s question sank in. Silently, he battled his conscience, a muscle working furiously in his jaw.

Brandi climbed out of bed and walked toward him, aching at the warring emotions she saw reflected on his face, yet unwilling to allow him to retreat. She stopped directly before him, raising her chin and holding his gaze, seeking nothing short of the honesty they’d always shared. “Quentin,” she repeated softly. “Just before Mrs. Collins interrupted us, you said you needed me too much to walk away. Did you mean that in the vast poetic sense or in the immediate one?” She lay her palm against his jaw. “Please. I need to know.”

“Both,” he managed.

“Then, had she not knocked when she did …”

“I wouldn’t have had the strength to leave you.”

Joy sparkled in Brandi’s eyes. “I’m glad.”

“Are you?” Quentin framed her face between his palms, brushing kisses across her cheeks, the bridge of her nose, her lips. “We have a great deal to discuss, Sunbeam. But not tonight. Mrs. Collins has doubtless delivered my tray and is hovering about to gauge my reaction to her pie. I’d best not disappoint her.” Quentin tugged Brandi to him, seizing her mouth in one last soul-wrenching kiss. “I’m going to my bedchamber now,” he said in a rough whisper, the trembling of his body conveying volumes. “While I still can.”

Brandi nodded unsteadily, reveling in the wondrous transformation tonight had wrought, knowing in her heart that an irreversible step had been taken.

She inhaled sharply, caressing the taut muscles at his nape. “Save me some pie,” she breathed with a teasing sparkle in her eyes. “After all, it was originally intended for me.”

For an instant, Quentin looked startled. Then laughter erupted from his chest. “My outrageous Sunbeam.” He stepped away, kissing both her hands before releasing them. “Only you would think of eating pie at a time like this. Very well, I’ll do better than save you a piece. I’ll ask Mrs. Collins to bring me a second helping—that larger slice she referred to. When everyone is abed, I’ll have Bentley sneak it into your room. How would that be?”

“Wonderful.” Brandi gave him an impish grin. “Not as wonderful as if Bentley were sneaking you into my room. But I’ll be patient.” The look she gave Quentin was pure seduction. “That, too, will come. Mark my words, Captain Steel. That, too, will come.”

“I believe the moment of reckoning has come,” Bentley announced from the dining-room doorway. “I just spotted Master Desmond’s carriage rounding the far end of the drive.”

“My, my. Isn’t he the bright and early one today.” Quentin folded his copy of the
Times
and glanced at the mantel clock. “It’s scarcely nine A.M. He and Hendrick must have left London before dawn.”

“Or ridden back to Colverton last night,” Bentley suggested.

“True.” Quentin came to his feet. “In either case, dare we hope that, due to the early hour, Desmond has yet to drink himself into an incoherent stupor?”

Bentley sniffed. “Indeed, sir. Dealing with Master Desmond is difficult enough when he’s sober.”

Quentin’s lips twitched. “I couldn’t agree more.” Walking over to the window, he peered out across the sunlit gardens. “Where’s Brandi? Have you advised her of my formidable brother’s arrival?” An indulgent grin. “She’s definitely up and about. In fact, she left the cottage before dawn. Either that or some other exuberant resident was bounding about the gardens beneath my window before the sun had risen.”

“Oh, that was most assuredly Miss Brandi, sir. She and her squirrel were dashing through the trees when I took my five A.M. stroll.”

One dark brow rose. “Since when do you take a five A.M. stroll?”

“Since I shouldered the task of overseeing a tireless young lady who means the world to me.” Bentley cleared his throat. “In any case, sir, Miss Brandi has probably already spied Master Desmond’s carriage. She’s in the gazebo garden with Herbert, and has been since breakfast.”

Quentin’s smile faded. “She’s not working, is she? ’Tis only a day since she was injured. I don’t want her exerting herself, and that includes planting geraniums or digging in the rock garden.”

“Actually, sir, she’s awarding a small feast to her squirrel—a sort of tribute to him for his heroic rescue. To my knowledge, her banquet arrangements involve nothing more strenuous than preparing a small bowl of berries and nuts and showering Lancelot with well-deserved praise.”

“Oh.” Quentin visibly relaxed. “Well, I suppose I can’t fault her for that. Even I’m feeling grateful to that troublemaker of a rodent.”

On cue, the front door slammed open. “Quentin?” Brandi raced breathlessly through the hallway and burst into the dining room, nearly knocking Bentley to the ground. “I’m sorry, Bentley. I didn’t see you.”