Jacquie D'Alessandro - [Regency Historical 04] (19 page)

Victoria pretended to look scandalized. “How shocking. Although, I must tell you, I’ve never wanted to be a fisherman.”

“Just as well. Those rough ropes would wreak havoc with your soft hands.” His glance slid to her hands, gripped lightly together around her legs, and her fingers tightened involuntarily. Then he raised his gaze back to hers. “I must tell you, Victoria, while I understand your reasons for wishing you were a man, I’m extremely glad that you’re not.”

“And why is that? Afraid I would best you at billiards?”

“Not at all. I’m an unsurpassedly excellent billiards player.”

“I thought we’d agreed ‘unsurpassedly’ wasn’t a word.”

“I thought we’d agreed it should be. But no matter. The reason I’m glad you’re not a man is because if you were, I wouldn’t do this….” He reached out and brushed a single fingertip over the back of her hand, stopping her breath. Her fingers loosened and he gently clasped her hand and brought it to his lips.

“Nor would I do this,” he whispered, his warm breath caressing her skin. He pressed a gentle kiss against the back of her fingertips.

How was it possible that with all this air surrounding them, her lungs had ceased to function? Before she could find an answer, he released her hand and sat up. His face
was a mere foot from hers, and the heat simmering in his eyes mesmerized her. The scent of sandalwood mixed with the subtle hint of shaving soap teased her senses, flooding her with an unbearable desire to touch her lips to his cleanly shaven skin, which looked so warm and firm.

“Certainly I wouldn’t think of doing this….” Reaching out, he lightly stroked the pad of his thumb over her cheek, then sifted his fingers into her hair, brushing over her nape to cup the back of her head. Somehow a breath must have found its way into her lungs because she let out a long sigh of pleasure.

He leaned forward, his hand gently coaxing her closer, until only a paper thin space separated their lips. “And this would be completely out of the question.” His mouth feathered across hers, once, twice, a whisper of a touch that only served to tease. But rather than satisfy her, he instead kissed his way across her jaw, softly, barely touching her. His tongue flicked over her earlobe, eliciting a quick intake of breath, then his warm lips nuzzled the sensitive skin behind her ear. “Roses,” he whispered, the single word awakening a barrage of tingles that skittered down her back. “How is it that you always smell so perfectly of roses?”

Her eyes drifted closed and she stretched her neck to give him better access. “My bath. I scent it with rosewater.”

He leaned back, and she barely swallowed her groan of disappointment. Dragging her eyes open, she stilled at the heat burning in his gaze. “So you smell of roses…everywhere.”

It wasn’t a question, but a statement uttered in a husky rasp that ended on a groan. Whatever response she might have hoped to make evaporated when his fingertips lightly grazed her features. The fire in his gaze mixed with a baf
fled expression, as if he were trying to solve a perplexing puzzle. “You must be told at least a dozen times a day how beautiful you are.”

A short, breathless laugh escaped her. “Hardly. Although I cannot deny I’ve been told.”

“Has anyone told you today?”

“Not so far.”

His index finger grazed her lower lip. “You’re beautiful.”

“Thank you. Although…”

“What? You prefer exquisite? If so, I’ll oblige you.”

“No. It’s just that…it doesn’t really mean anything.”

“What doesn’t?”

“Being beautiful. Or at least it shouldn’t.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s not something a person has any control over. It certainly isn’t any great accomplishment—like being a doctor. It didn’t require any special talent or effort on my behalf. It doesn’t make one kind or decent. Yet, it seems to be what I am most admired for. Perhaps
all
I am admired for. Well, that and my family’s fortune—but again, that is something over which I have no control, nor is it an accomplishment. No special talent or effort required.”

His expression turned even more mystified. “I am surprised to hear you say this. I would have thought you’d place great importance on beauty.”

She inwardly sighed at her tendency to babble. Would she never learn to keep her lips closed? Since she’d come this far, she saw no point in stopping now. “I cannot deny I enjoy pretty clothes and looking my best, which I suppose is fortunate since, given my position, it is expected of me. But I carry in my heart an image of my mother…my mother who was so beautiful people couldn’t help but stare at her. Yet for all her beauty, she wasn’t truly happy.”

The image rose in her mind of her stunning dark-haired mother who laughed gaily in front of guests then cried in her bedchamber. “After I was born, she miscarried two babies. It sent her into a melancholy from which she never recovered. When she died, she was barely forty. And still beautiful. But of what use was that? As for me, all I wanted was my mother. I didn’t care if she was gorgeous or a hag. I would have traded anything I owned, all my supposed ‘beauty,’ for one more day with her. One more of her rare smiles.” Moisture pushed behind her eyes and she blinked to dispel it. A self-conscious sound escaped her. “I suppose all I’m saying is that outward beauty is really rather…useless.”

He was looking at her with an odd expression—as if he’d never seen her before—and embarrassment swept through her. Good lord, once again her mouth had run amok.

“You continue to surprise me, Victoria,” he said slowly, his gaze searching hers. “And I don’t particularly care for surprises.”

She blinked, and then her eyes narrowed. “Why, thank you. I don’t know when I’ve heard such heartwarming words. Truly.”

He shook his head as if to clear it. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.” Reaching out, he brushed a curl from her cheek. “Forgive me?”

As quickly as her irritation had flared, it evaporated. He sounded so sincere, and looked so serious and earnest, yet…baffled. Troubled. Perhaps there was a woman somewhere in the kingdom who could resist his softly spoken query, but she was not that woman. “Forgiven,” she whispered.

His gaze flicked to her lips, and her body quickened in
anticipation of another kiss. Instead, he abruptly stood. “It’s time we headed back.”

She looked at the ground so he wouldn’t see her disappointment. Her common sense applauded the decision. Sitting on a picnic blanket, sharing kisses and confidences with Nathan, was clearly not prudent. Her heart, however, yearned to spend the rest of the day right here.

These feelings were simply not part of her plan, yet she was at a loss as to how to stop them. Had it been only two days ago that she’d thought she could walk away from here, free of Nathan and unaffected by their encounter? Yes. Yet here she sat, after such a short time, already feeling anything but free and most definitely affected. If he could wreak such havoc with her plans in a mere two days, what on earth would he do in two weeks’ time?

God help her, she didn’t know if the possibilities more frightened her or thrilled her.

T
hree hours after arriving back at Creston Manor and leaving Victoria in the drawing room with her aunt, Nathan still paced the confines of his bedchamber, his thoughts knotted like a hopelessly tangled ball of yarn. He should be concentrating on figuring out where the jewels might be hidden. Should actually be out looking for them. But he’d given his word not to conduct any searches without Victoria, and spending more time in her company right now was simply not a good idea. Not when his command over himself teetered so close to the edge. Bloody hell,
she’d set him on fire. Simply by sitting on a blanket. Watching her eat had proven an exercise in torture, requiring a monumental effort not to fling their meal aside and simply snatch her into his arms. He’d thought that lying back, closing his eyes so he couldn’t see her would help, but his reclined position had only served to make him burn to pull her on top of him.

He raked his hands through his hair and blew out a long breath. Damn it, he’d known lust before, but
this
…this aching desire for her, this intense passion she inspired, was unlike anything he’d ever experienced. He’d always considered himself a man of control, finesse, and patience. But Victoria somehow stripped him of all three. He didn’t want to kiss her, he wanted to devour her. He didn’t want to slip her gown from her shoulders, he wanted to tear it from her body. With his teeth. He didn’t want to slowly seduce her, he wanted to push her against the nearest wall and simply bury himself in her. Make hot, sweaty, mindless, searing love to her. Then turn her over and start again. If she knew even half the things he wanted to do to her, with her, she’d most likely never recover from the shock.

When the need to have his hands on her, to kiss her, had finally become unbearable, he’d given in, but had forcibly restrained himself, barely touching her. He’d succeeded, but the effort had cost him. He’d desperately wanted to remain by the stream with her, prolong their outing, but he knew his limits, and he’d reached them. One more touch, one more kiss, would have snapped his tenuous control.

He paused by the window, looking down at the expanse of lawns, the soaring trees, and the slice of white-capped blue water visible in the distance. The sight had always soothed him. But not now. Every nerve and muscle pulled
with tension, and a sense of frustration such as he’d never known prowled through him. And damn it, it was all her fault.

Dragging his hands down his face, he groaned. Had he actually believed he could resist her? Yes, he had. And perhaps he might have been able to if his attraction had remained purely physical. He’d at least had a prayer of standing his ground against a woman who was merely beautiful. An even better chance if she proved shallow, superficial, and annoying, as he’d assumed Victoria ultimately would.

But how could he withstand the allure of a woman who was not only beautiful, but exhibited so many other facets that he found irresistible? He’d desired her the moment he’d set eyes on her, but each moment spent in her company revealed another unexpected layer of her personality, which only increased his hunger for her.

She’d proven herself unafraid to stand up to him. She was amusing. Witty. Intelligent. She’d offered him sympathy, kindness, and understanding. Believed him innocent of wrongdoing. Tried to befriend his ducks. She liked his cat. His dog. His cat and dog liked her in return. In spite of all her possessions, she’d suffered loneliness, and the fact that she would have given up all those possessions, her beauty, for one more day with her mother…

Damn it, he hadn’t expected her to be…vulnerable. Hadn’t anticipated her touching his heart. Hadn’t wanted to care about her like this. In this heart-tugging, gut-wrenching, mind-numbing way. A woman who would never be his. A woman who, within a matter of weeks, would be engaged to another man.

“Augh!” He pressed the heels of his hands against his eyelids to blot out the torturous image of her lifting her
face for another man’s kiss. Enough. He needed to clear his mind of her. Erase the taste and feel and scent of her. Had to start concentrating on the things he should be thinking about. The jewels. So he could either find them or be convinced there was no hope of finding them so he could then pack up his belongings and animals and return to his peaceful life.

A swim. A long, brisk swim in the cold water would set him back to rights. Cool this unwanted ardor and force his thoughts back on the proper path.

Relieved to have a plan, he quickly exited his bedchamber. When he entered the foyer, he asked Langston in an undertone, “Where is everyone?”

“Your brother rode into Penzance with instructions to not expect him until late,” the butler reported in a hushed tone. “Your father, Lady Victoria, and Lady Delia are having tea on the terrace.”

Excellent. He could easily avoid the terrace. “If anyone asks, you haven’t seen me. I’ll return for dinner.”

“Yes, Dr. Nathan.”

Breathing a sigh of relief, Nathan left the house.

Victoria stirred a lump of sugar into her third cup of tea and nodded absently at whatever Aunt Delia was saying. Not that it mattered that she wasn’t paying attention to the conversation about some party Aunt Delia and Lord Rutledge had both attended over a decade earlier, as she was convinced that her presence was quite forgotten. There hadn’t been a break in the lively chatter between her aunt and Lord Rutledge since they’d sat down to tea an hour earlier. She’d considered excusing herself, but she couldn’t resist the lure of the gorgeous late afternoon weather. And if she remained indoors, she would be alone
with her thoughts—not something she cared to contemplate. There’d be plenty of time for that during the long night ahead.

Besides, it was a pleasure to see her aunt so animated and thoroughly enjoying herself. There were a number of gentlemen with whom Aunt Delia occasionally attended the opera, and she never lacked for partners at a ball, but she insisted those men were merely friends of long standing.

Never had Victoria seen her aunt blush. A becoming pink flush colored her face as she laughed at something Lord Rutledge, who was also clearly enjoying himself, said.

A muffled tapping on the flagstones behind her caught Victoria’s attention and she turned. B.C., head held regally high, trotted across the terrace toward her. Upon his arrival, he bumped his massive head against her thigh. With a quiet laugh, she scratched behind his ears while he lifted his nose and sniffed the air.

“Smell biscuits, do you?” she murmured. The eager look in his intelligent dark eyes clearly indicated he did. She broke off a piece of her biscuit and offered the morsel to B.C., who, after eating it, rested his head on her lap and gazed up at her adoringly.

“Hmmm. I suppose I’m to think this attention springs from gratitude, but I suspect it’s because you want more.”

For an answer, B.C. stood at attention, licked his chops, then sent a pleading glance toward the remaining biscuit on her plate. “And I suppose you expect me to share the rest of my last biscuit with you?”

B.C. instantly plopped onto his bottom and raised his right forepaw.

Victoria laughed. “That seems to be your all-purpose answer. Lucky for you, it is quite irresistible.” Breaking the biscuit into several pieces, she’d just offered B.C. the
last bit when a flash of white caught the corner of her eye. Turning, she saw a man walking into the woods behind the stables. In seconds he disappeared from sight, but there was no mistaking that it had been Nathan. She shot up from her seat as if ejected from a catapult.

“Heavens, are you all right, Victoria?”

She jerked her gaze from the spot where the forest had swallowed him to look at her aunt. “Yes, I’m fine. A…uh, bee startled me.” She flapped her arms around for good measure. “It’s gone. But now that I’m up, I think I’ll take a walk. If you don’t mind.”

“Not at all, my dear,” Aunt Delia said.

“By all means, enjoy this lovely weather,” Lord Rutledge said with a smile. “Although the sun will set soon. Take care to return before dark.”

After assuring them she would, Victoria didn’t hesitate another second. Recalling her promise not to wander off alone, she whistled softly for B.C. to join her. The dog fell into step alongside her and she steamed across the terrace like a ship under full sail, determined to find out exactly what Nathan was up to. Oh, yes, it was possible he was just innocently strolling through the forest, but there’d been something distinctly furtive in his manner. Hurrying along with his head down, as if not wanting to be seen. She wouldn’t accuse him again without proof of searching for the jewels alone, but she was determined to do a bit of spying of her own to make certain such proof did not exist.

She shot B.C. a grim smile. “You’d best hope your master isn’t skulking about looking for treasure without me, because if he is…” Her voice trailed off as she was unable to think up a punishment dire enough. “If he is, he’ll have proven himself a liar. Dishonorable. A man of no integrity who does not keep his word.”

Yet, perhaps that would be best. If he were dishonorable, that would surely kill her unwanted attraction to him. She would never remain drawn to a man of poor character, no matter how handsome or charming. She quickened her pace. “Come along, B.C. Let’s find out what the master spy is up to.”

When they entered the forest several minutes later, Victoria moved swiftly along the well-worn path. As they approached the fork, she slowed and looked down at B.C.

“Any idea which way he went?”

B.C. sniffed the air, then headed down the path leading to the lake. Her lips pressed into a grim line, Victoria followed the dog, scanning left and right, looking, listening. But she saw nothing save the trees and greenery, heard only the chirping of birds and the rustling of overhead leaves courtesy of the breeze. Long shadows fell across the trail with the waning rays that harkened to the coming twilight. They were nearing a curve in the path when B.C. broke into a run and galloped around the corner. Seconds later she heard a distinct crashing in the underbrush.

“B.C.,” she whispered as loudly as she dared. Where had that dog dashed off to? Probably after a rabbit or squirrel. Or perhaps he’d located Nathan? Botheration, she had no desire to be discovered by Nathan, as she was supposed to be the one doing the spying. Of course, if he found her, she could simply claim she was out for a walk with the dog. Perfectly true.

She rounded the corner and saw a slender path that led off to the right. As that was the direction in which she’d heard B.C., she followed the trail, trying to step gingerly so as to make the minimum amount of noise. A minute later she caught a glimpse of the lake through the trees. The trail cut sharply to the left, and when she turned, she
came upon B.C., who sat, tongue lolling, tail wagging, next to an oddly shaped dark mass she prayed wasn’t the remains of some poor animal he’d hunted down.

“There you are,” she murmured, approaching cautiously, leaning forward, casting a suspicious eye on the strangely shaped thing that showed no signs of life. Her stomach tightened with dread. “Please don’t be a rabbit. Or a squirrel. Or a—”

Boot.

Victoria straightened as if a plank had been shoved down her drawers. Hastening forward to investigate, she discovered it was not a single boot, but a pair of boots. Lying atop a sloppily folded pile of clothing. There was no doubt to whom it all belonged. She’d recognize Nathan’s worn boots and fawn breeches anywhere. And if his clothes were here, that meant he was…

Naked.

Whoosh
. A flash of heat engulfed her. He’d told her of his fondness for swimming in the lake. Clearly he’d done so, for she sincerely doubted he was searching for the jewels while…

Naked.

Crouching down, she peered through the dense foliage toward the lake. The water resembled a sheet of blue glass, absorbing the brilliant orange and red reflections of the setting sun on its pristine surface. No sign of him. Drat! Er, excellent. She could scamper off undetected. Her gaze fell to the pile of clothing and she pursed her lips. Hmmmm…

She cast a quick look all around, verifying she was alone, then looked again at his clothing, which seemed to silently chant
Take me, take me
.

Oh, but she couldn’t. Could she? Some imp inside her
told her she most certainly could. He was accustomed to such games—indeed he’d confessed to playing them during his youth. When on earth would she ever be presented with such an opportunity again? Never. Practically chortling with glee, she quickly gathered up the bundle, then stood. After casting one last look toward the lake to make certain Nathan wasn’t approaching the shore, she turned. And froze.

Nathan stood before her. Nathan, dripping wet, his skin glistening, rivulets of water trailing down his body—

Holy. Saints. Above.

Look at his face. Look at his face
. But her disobedient gaze did not heed. Instead it riveted on his torso with the stupefied zeal of a thief who’d unexpectedly happened upon a sack filled with money. Beads of moisture meandered down the muscled wall of his chest, clinging to the swatch of dark hair that narrowed into a silky ribbon as it bisected his ridged abdomen…then spread again to cradle his—

Holy. Saints. Above.

She could only stare and be grateful her jaw was attached to her face so it didn’t flop onto the ground at her feet. Dear God, he was…magnificent. While she had nothing to compare him to, there was no doubt Nathan was exquisitely and, er, generously made. Undoubtedly the rest of him—his arms and legs—were exquisite as well, and she’d verify that the instant her eyeballs recalled how to move. She inanely wondered if the Official Spy Handbook addressed this situation: female clothing poacher struck dumb, reduced to drooling, insensate mass with freakishly paralyzed eyeballs by sight of magnificent, exquisite naked wet man.

“Rather like ‘Puss in Boots,’ don’t you agree?”

The sound of his deep, amused voice jerked her from her stupor, and her gaze snapped up to meet his. A devilish gleam danced in his eyes. A witty response would most likely come to her in a year or two. Perhaps three or four. Right now she said the only word she could manage.