Lancelot's Lady (18 page)

She reached up.
"
I feel self-conscious.
"

"
You
'
re perfection.
"

He lowered himself until her feverish skin connected with his. She hissed in a ragged breath, her eyes reflecting wonder and nervous anticipation. Then she took a small breath and held it.

Jonathan chuckled.
"
What are you doing?
"

"
Waiting.
"

"
It would be rude of me to keep a lady waiting.
"

"
I don
'
t know how
―
"

"
Shh.
"
He grazed her lips with his thumb.
"
No talking.
"

He claimed her mouth. It started as a sweet kiss, but swiftly ignited a fire that neither of them could extinguish. Her tongue entwined with his and he groaned.

God, how he wanted her. That was evi
dent by the hardness between his legs.

"
See how much I want you?
"

He moved his hips in small circles and Rhianna
'
s eyes flared at the sensual contact. Releasing her, he shifted to one side and leaned against the back of the sofa. With one hand he traced a path from her neck to between her breasts to her stomach. She quivered under his touch. He leaned down to kiss her, his fingers wandering lower.

She was hot. And wet.

"
Wait.
"
But even as she said this, she moved against him.

He parted her legs and continued touching, caressing, exploring. Her breathing quickened and she arched her back, crying out his name. Positioning himself above her, he prodded at her opening in teasing movements. She squirmed beneath him, panting, her eyes half-glazed.

If he didn
'
t get inside her now, he
'
d explode.

"
Are you ready?
"
he whispered, biting her lip.

She bucked beneath him and bit him back.
"
Yes.
"

In one fluid movement he was inside her, trapped within satin depths. She was so hot, so tight, he could barely hold back. He groaned and kissed her hard, afraid to move, afraid he wouldn
'
t last.

Something wet touched his cheek.

He raised his head. And froze.

~ * ~

"
What
'
s wrong?
"
he asked.
"
Did I hurt you?
"

Rhianna couldn
'
t stand the pained expression in Jonathan
'
s eyes.
"
It
'
s not you.
"

"
Then what?
"

She closed her eyes. How could she tell him? How could she possibly explain to him that she
'
d been violated by a disgusting excuse of a man for so many years that it made her feel dirty, used…unworthy.

Damn you, Peter Waverley!

She
'
d done everything to put Peter out of her mind. The sensations she felt with Jonathan were so different, so exciting. She wanted more. But when he
'
d entered her, it brought everything crashing down around her.

Jonathan waited patiently.

"
I can
'
t do this,
"
she said, crying softly.
"
I
'
m sorry.
"

"
Tell me what
'
s wrong, Rhianna.
"

"
I…I can
'
t.
"

He withdrew from her, visibly confused and deflated. She was barely able to look at him.

He
'
ll never want me now. Not after this.

Rhianna recalled her little ritual at the pool. How stupid could she be? How could she possibly think that a few words and holding her breath underwater could cleanse her and make the nightmares go away?

Maybe she should just accept this as her life.

Maybe I
'
ll always be damaged goods.

Outside, the sun spread radiant rays across the land and sea, but inside the cabin an invisible cloud of gloom had invaded the room.

While they dressed in awkward silence, Rhianna tried not to think of what had just happened.

Oh my God. I
let him―

No, she couldn
'
t go there. Not now.

Jonathan smoothed a t-shirt over his chest, his eyes searching hers.
"
We
'
re both adults, Rhianna. I
'
ve let you know how I feel. I want―
"

"
Let
'
s not talk about it,
"
she cut in.
"
Please. I feel humiliated enough.
"

"
Don
'
t. We did nothing wrong.
"

She didn
'
t reply.

With a sigh, he said,
"
I should go.
"

"
No, I should,
"
she argued.
"
This is your studio.
"

He gave her a half-smile.
"
Yeah, I guess you
'
re right.
"

She paused in the doorway. She wanted to say something―explain
why she couldn
'
t give that part of her to him―but the words wouldn
'
t come.

"
I guess I
'
ll see you later tonight,
"
Jonathan said.

She could feel his stare burning into her back as she hobbled across the yard. He still wanted her. She knew that. What was wor
se, she wanted
him
, and the only thing standing in the way was her past.

How was she ever going to rid herself of that?

Chapter 18

Rhianna spent most of the day in bed. She stared up at the ceiling and played out variations of an imaginary conversation with Jonathan
―where she revealed what had happened in her youth. No matter how the conversations played out, she was left with the same results. Jonathan would storm out of the house, unable to look at her, sickened by her…blaming her.

He
'
s not like that.

But how could
she be sure? She didn
'
t know much about the man. She knew nothing of his history, where he came from, his youth. He
'
d probably had the perfect upbringing and never had to face such vile ugliness.

Do you want to bring that into his life? Into Misty
'
s?

They deserved better.

She threw one arm across her face.
"
Just finish your time here and leave. You
'
ll forget about them after a while.
"

But would she? How could she possibly forget the gentle caresses of Jonathan
'
s hands on her body or his soft lips on her breast? Even now, she wanted more.

Rhianna let out a moan.
"
Don
'
t think of that.
"

Turning on one side, she caught sight of the framed photograph of JT. It had fallen into the open drawer of the nightstand. Jonathan must have knocked it over when he
'
d carried her to her room.

"
JT, why did you send me here?
"

Higginson must have allowed JT to make the arrangements. Still, it was unlike the butler not to confirm everything. JT
'
s memory was not the best.

She placed the photograph back on the table. Closing the drawer, she saw her cell phone on the floor. Something else Jonathan must have knocked over. She picked it up and flipped it open, knowing there
'
d be no signal. And there wasn
'
t.

No phone. No radio. No way to contact anyone.

Rhianna released a frustrated groan.

It hadn
'
t been her idea to get stranded on this blasted island. Fate had intervened, however, and now she was stuck here, but one day Angelina
'
s Isle would be a past memory.

Would she view it with relief or regret?

By late afternoon, Rhianna decided she
'
d spent enough time sulking and wishing for something she couldn
'
t have, so she headed downstairs. Surprisingly, her foot didn
'
t hurt at all. Or maybe she just couldn
'
t feel it because of the sharp pain she felt in her heart.

As she reached the bottom step, she heard Mrs. Atkinson
'
s familiar whistling coming from the kitchen. She found the housekeeper chopping potatoes, while Misty sat at the table and rolled a large carrot between her palms.

"
Hello, dear,
"
Mrs. Atkinson said.
"
How
'
s your foot?
"

"
Much better, thank you.
"
Rhianna inhaled deeply.
"
Something smells fabulous. What is it?
"

The older woman smiled.
"
Your supper.
"

"
We grew everything in the garden,
"
Misty signed. She pointed to a basket filled with various vegetables.
"
Mrs. Atkinson let me help her pick them. We
'
re making chicken soup.
"

Rhianna smiled.
"
So you had a good day?
"

"
A
great
day.
"

Misty skipped around the kitchen, a grin plastered on her face. Suddenly, she stopped and looked up at Rhianna with innocent blue eyes.
"
What did you do today?
"

Rhianna stifled a cough.
"
Well, I…
"

She didn
'
t know what to say. It
'
s not like she could tell the child she
'
d been making out with her dad.

Making out? What are you, a teenager?

"
I hurt my foot,
"
she said.
"
So I spent most of the day in my room, resting it.
"

She caught Mrs. Atkinson looking at her. There was an odd expression in the woman
'
s eyes. Suspicion.

For a moment, Rhianna wondered whether Mrs. Atkinson knew what she
'
d been up to earlier that day. If she did, did the housekeeper approve?

For some reason the thought that Mrs. Atkinson might judge her harshly for getting romantically entangled with Jonathan saddened Rhianna. She liked Jonathan
'
s housekeeper.

"
Can I help you, Mrs. Atkinson?
"

"
That
'
s okay, dear. I
'
ve got it covered.
"

There was a knock on the back door. Mrs. Atkinson opened it and beamed a smile at the thin man standing on the porch.

Rhianna had met Marvin Atkinson shortly after arriving on the island, but the man rarely left his home, except when he was repairing something or doing yard work. He probably hadn
'
t said ten words to her.

Marvin gave Rhianna a shy nod.

"
I fixed the washing machine,
"
he told his wife.
"
Will you be home soon?
"

Mrs. Atkinson surveyed the potatoes she was chopping and the basket of vegetables.
"
I have to finish making the soup.
"

"
I can do that,
"
Rhianna offered.

Mrs. Atkinson
'
s dark eyes widened.
"
Thank you, dear. Are you sure?
"

Rhianna threw her a wry grin.
"
If I can
'
t make chicken soup I
'
d be pretty useless, wouldn
'
t I?
"

"
I
'
m sure you
'
re anything but.
"

The Atkinsons left the house together, hand in hand.

Watching them, Rhianna
'
s stomach churned. She wondered if she
'
d ever have what they had. A joyous love, simple and uncomplicated.

She turned back to her charge.
"
Let
'
s make soup.
"

Misty grabbed the basket from the table and carried it to the counter.
"
Can I cut the carrot?
"

"
I think you should be in charge of washing them.
"
At the pout on the girl
'
s face, Rhianna added,
"
After I cut them, you can put them in the pot.
"

Misty nodded, then signed,
"
Daddy
'
s going to love our soup. He
'
s going to be very happy.
"

Rhianna sighed.
Well, at least one of us will be.

Soon, the potatoes, carrots, onion, zucchini, peas and chicken were simmering in a pot on the stove, while Misty sat at the table, swinging her short legs under the chair. She
'
d been a great helper, but it appeared Rhianna now had a problem on her hands.

"
I
'
m bored,
"
Misty signed.

"
What do you want to do?
"

"
I don
'
t know.
"

"
Do you want to walk on the beach?
"

Misty gave a shake of her dark curls.

They sat for a moment in silence.

The house is too quiet,
Rhianna thought.

She reached across the table and turned on the portable radio. Turning the dial, she found a station with current pop hits. She opened her mouth and began to sing along.

Misty
'
s eyes widened.
"
What are you doing?
"

"
What?
"

"
Why is your mouth moving like that?
"

"
I
'
m singing,
"
Rhianna signed.
"
Don
'
t you know what that is?
"

"
No. No one
'
s done that before.
"

"
Do you like music?
"

Misty frowned.
"
What
'
s that?
"

Rhianna was shocked. Why hadn
'
t someone taught Misty about music? Or shown the girl how she could
hear
in a different way than hearing children? Surely Jonathan and Misty
'
s other teachers knew that a deaf person could enjoy music too.

Rhianna let out a sigh.
"
Misty, even deaf children can hear music. You just need to learn how. I
'
ll show you.
"

She took Misty
'
s small hand and placed it on top of the radio. Then she turned the volume up. Misty jumped back in surprise.

"
It
'
s okay,
"
she reassured the girl.

Misty touched the radio again. The smile she gave Rhianna transformed her, and whatever boredom had been lurking behind her blue eyes instantly vanished. Misty turned the dial up as far as it could go. For a small radio it thumped out a decent volume, but Rhianna knew Misty needed to experience more than the moderate vibration from the old radio.

"
Misty, let
'
s go in the living room.
"

"
But I like this.
"

"
Trust me. I have an even better way for you to hear.
"

When Rhianna had first arrived, she
'
d noticed an ancient stereo system, complete with record player, tucked into the back corner of the living room. It didn
'
t take her long to unearth the four speakers that were hiding in the corners of the room. From the amount of dust on the equipment, she surmised that the stereo hadn
'
t been used in a long time. Hopefully, it still worked.

"
This plays louder music.
"
Rhianna pointed to the stereo.
"
You
'
ll be able to hear it with your feet.
"

Misty let out a raspy laugh.
"
My feet?
"

Rhianna flipped through a pile of old record albums that were in the cabinet under the stereo.
"
There
'
s got to be something suitable for a six-year-old.
"
There was.
ABBA
'
s Greatest Hits.

She placed it on the turntable and showed Misty how to work it.
"
See? It
'
s easy. Now we
'
ll turn up the volume.
"

Misty stood beside her, with her hands clasped as if receiving the most precious gift, as Rhianna cranked up the volume and the bass. Music pounded into the room and the hardwood floor vibrated with the beat.

"
I can feel it,
"
Misty signed, her eyes filled with amazement.
"
It
'
s in my toes.
"
She ran from speaker to speaker, touching the sides, feeling the vibrations.