My Unfair Lady (24 page)

A cold, wet nose jabbed Summer's ear, and when she tried to roll over, Chi-chi growled. "It's a good thing you're so cute," she mumbled. "Otherwise you'd be in serious trouble." The dog yipped, turned in a circle, and looked at India for assistance. The monkey gave a remarkably human grin and poked his finger up Summer's nose.

   "All right," she mumbled again, then sat up and looked with wonder around the spacious room—at the elaborately carved mantel of the fireplace, the raised-panel walls, the ornate tapestries of mythical creatures, the vases, and highly polished wooden furniture. The castle she remembered from last night should've had spiderwebs throughout and dusty beds. She looked down at her sheets and realized that the only dirt in this room was what she'd brought with her. Summer wrinkled her nose, felt the tangled mess of her hair, and crawled out of bed.

   Chi-chi circled again. "I know, me too," she told the dog, and quickly looked for a water closet, sighed, and peeked under the brocade coverlet of the bedspread. Sure enough, a chamber pot. She walked over to the shutters and threw them open, sunlight making her squint, and saw the woods surrounding the house, a twinkle of water through the trees, and smiled.

   A connecting door revealed the softly snoring Meg, her head bandaged but otherwise looking quite healthy after her ordeal, and she sighed with relief. She then spied her luggage and figured that being a duke, the man would think of everything. Grabbing up soap, a change of clothes, and her critters, Summer crept out of the room. The hallways looked more like what she'd expected, with blank spots on the walls where missing portraits used to hang and faded spots on the floor where rugs had been removed. The stairs squeaked quite satisfactorily when she ambled down them, as did the door when she opened it onto the broken cobblestones of the courtyard.

   She hadn't seen a single soul in the house, nor outside of it, and broke into a run toward that line of forest, stretching out all the sore muscles and kinks from their adventure yesterday.

   "Probably should've thanked the ghosts for not waking me," she panted to her critters after they'd all relieved themselves behind different bushes. "Do you suppose that's all that lives in there?" She waved a hand at the monstrous castle, with its peaks and turrets, sagging shutters, and overgrown vines. She shuddered at the sight and turned with a smile. "But I like these woods… very much."

   She stuffed Chi-chi and Rosey in her pocket, put India on her shoulder, and began to trek through the trees, marveling at the colors of their leaves, all golds and reds with the fall. In Arizona there wasn't such an obvious change of seasons, and the sparse forests consisted of only spindly trees with the occasional evergreen. She marveled at the bounty of this land, even while she shivered from the dratted cold. The temperature of England's early fall felt like winter in the desert.

   Summer unerringly found the water, following the stream to where it widened into a pond in an open clearing. A large, smooth boulder sat at the edge of the water, its surface warm from the sun, and she spread out her change of clothes, stripped off her torn and dirty ones, and grabbed the soap. Chi-chi and Rosey sniffed around with manic delight, and the dog made sure the fox stayed near with nose-nudges and the occasional nip. India scampered up the rock, looked over the edge at the water, and scampered back to Summer.

   "You first," she told him, shivering in the chill air, just imagining how frigid that water would really be. India chattered at her and went to the edge again. "What's the matter, little man, are you scared?"

   As if he'd understood the taunt, the monkey jumped off the rock, hit the water, and seconds later shot out of it again, screaming loud enough to wake the ghosts in the duke's castle.

   Summer laughed until her sides hurt. Tarnation, that was the funniest thing she'd ever seen—the look on India's face when he shot out of the water!

   India spread himself out on the warm rock and looked at her accusingly. Well, now it was her turn, and Summer had never been one to just stick in a toe. She hopped onto the rock, tried to ignore the nasty gleam in the monkey's eyes, and jumped off.

   The shock of the icy water stopped her heart. For a moment she couldn't move, and then she swam with all her might, made it to the shore, and turned into one giant goose bump. "I n-now know the meaning of c-cold," she told her friends and tried to pretend that she didn't notice India laughing at her. With a deep breath, she plunged back in the water and washed away all the dirt and grime, realizing that the water wasn't so bad, once her skin had gone numb.

   She waded back to the shore, slightly blue but marvelously clean, holding out her arms to the sun, feeling that for the first time in a long while, she was at peace. At home.

   And felt his eyes on her, the heat of his gaze chasing away the cold until she felt flushed with fever. She didn't think Byron had meant to sneak up on her. In fact, when their eyes met, he looked more startled than she. His mouth was open as if he'd tried to call out but had unaccountably lost the power of speech. Summer's gaze flickered toward his breeches, and she realized that she wanted him. Not the playing around they'd done, but him, inside of her, a part of her. If only they didn't keep having to save each other's lives, to depend on one another, to build a trust, then maybe she wouldn't have this desire for him. How could she want to keep her promise to Monte and yearn for this man at the same time?

What was she going to do?

AS USUAL, HE TOOK CARE OF IT FOR HER.

   "I've come to say good-bye," he managed to growl, his blue eyes widening with surprise, as if he couldn't believe what he'd just said.

   "What do you mean—where are you going?"

   His eyes stayed riveted to her breasts. "I am only human, madam, and cannot stand here talking to you with an ounce of reason if you don't cover yourself."

   Summer wanted to apologize but didn't. She'd spent half her life bathing in streams, and he'd invaded her privacy, after all. She took a step, with every intention of getting her clothes, but realized that she'd just managed to move closer to him. Because of his eyes. At her movement he'd looked into her own, that blue stare making her legs go weak. Reminding her of the night that he'd comforted her, making her remember that they'd shared an intimacy that had created a burning need for consummation, as if she'd tasted chocolate but hadn't been allowed to eat any of it. Would she always feel this sense of incompleteness? This horrible emptiness of something undone?

   He took a step toward her. "Can't you even bathe in a tub like a normal woman? Instead of outside, in the sunshine… where every pore of your skin sparkles with light… where you look like some kind of forest nymph…" The duke choked, then closed the distance between them even more.

   "Don't leave," she whispered, unsure of what she meant. Don't leave her now, or not ever? Is that why she wanted him to continue as her sponsor, so that she would be near him? Why did she want him so badly that it hurt? Perhaps if she finished this thing between them, it would go away, and she wouldn't feel so blamed empty at the thought of never seeing him again.

   "I'll only be gone for a short time," he whispered, his mouth somehow now at her ear, his arms folded around her shoulders. "Cook and Bernard will take care of you while I'm away to Scotland Yard. They'll keep you safe while I try to discover who hates me enough to want me dead."

   Summer should've felt shocked at herself, feeling more naked held against his fully clothed body. But the throbbing between her legs warred with her modesty and won. "I want to go with you."

   "No, you'll stay away from me, surrounded by people I trust. I won't put your life in danger again."

   She reached her arms inside his unbuttoned coat, ran them up his back, and squeezed, trying to mold her body against his own. "I can't stay away from you," she whispered, the warmth of him making her shiver. And that's why she wouldn't let him go, not yet. She just couldn't go back to Monte with this aching desire for another man; it was time she did something about it. She couldn't be sure that she'd ever have the opportunity again.

   He groaned, the stiffness in his muscles melting away as his entire body sought to wrap around her own, make her a part of him. His lips skipped across her cheek and found hers, pushing her head back while he plunged his tongue into her mouth, the sweet, raspy feel of it making her curl her own tongue around his, making her suck on it until she felt the hardness in his trousers like a burning brand.

   Her fingers fumbled at the buttons of his waistcoat. His tore at his neck cloth, popping out the emerald stickpin, which fell unheeded onto the leafy forest floor. The duke shrugged out of his coat, draped it over her shoulders, making her feel as if he'd wrapped her in a cocoon of privacy.

   She'd managed to open his waistcoat and shirt; her hands roaming the bare expanse of his chest had slid the clothing so that it lay slightly behind his shoulders, revealing the new bandage covering the injured one. The front of her skin lay bare to his own, with only his trousers and boots in the way, the cloth behind both of them making her feel as if they were in a tent of fine wool.

   Summer wrapped her hand around the back of his neck and pulled his head down to her breasts, threw her head back when he greedily latched onto them, sucking until she could feel the draw of it between her legs, the rush of spasms that buckled her knees. One of his hands supported her back, and the other cradled her bottom, his tongue and mouth now nipping at her breasts until she thought she'd go mad.

   She swept her hands over the bulge in his trousers, and he sucked in his breath. Summer knew what he looked like, had tasted and caressed him until his image had been branded forever in her mind, but she didn't truly know what he would feel like inside of her. What that soft, throbbing hardness would feel like pushing into her, becoming a part of her.

   Her fingers traced through the golden hair on his chest, tugged and pulled at his nipples in demand. He growled and pulled up his head to her neck, sucking hard on her skin until she cried out his name to the trees and the earth and the sky. His fingers squeezed her bottom, and he pulled her hard against him and upward, until only her toes touched the leafy ground. She could hear her coarse hair scraping against the front of his trousers as she wrapped her arms around his neck and rubbed herself against him.

   "Wrap your legs around me," he commanded.

   She squirmed at the tone and sound of his voice. "But… your shoulder," she breathed, concerned for him, with only him. There was nothing in this world but her and the duke; the rest had faded to insignificance.

   He didn't answer. His hand at her bottom bounced her up, and her legs wrapped around his hips reflex ively.
Tarnation
, she thought, he hadn't even needed to tell her what to do, her body seemed to take cues from him without any conscious volition of her own.

   He took his eyes off her for a minute and glanced around, a quirk at his lips as he headed for the smooth boulder at the edge of the pond, carrying her as if she weighed no more than India. She took advantage of his distraction to nip at his earlobe, nuzzle his hair, suck the salt off the skin of his neck.

   Her eyes flew open, unaware that she'd even had them shut, when she felt the smooth hardness of the sloping boulder against the back of his coat that had—somehow—managed to stay slung over her shoulders. Summer leaned back, making a cold space between them that caused her to shiver until she looked into his face. She'd never seen an expression like his before, couldn't quite decide what to call it. His eyes were glazed with a dreamy, intense quality, his face flushed and his lips slightly parted as his breath rasped in and out while his gaze flickered over her, both his hands holding her hips against the support of the boulder. The rock curved out a bit, where he'd sat her bottom, and he pushed himself a bit farther away so he could see her mound of curls, the petals between her thighs.

   
His stare could melt stone
, she thought. And make her long for him without a touch. But she needed his touch, couldn't stand the way she squirmed and bucked at him with nothing but the heat of his gaze for reward.

   Summer lay on the slanted shelf and begged him to do more than look at her.

   He smiled, his eyes quickly slipping back to stare into her own while he held her up with one hand while the other began to explore between her legs, making her catch her breath and try to pull him toward her. But he stubbornly resisted while clever fingers parted her petals, slipped in and out of her wetness, raked through her coarse, curly hair.

"Please, Byron."

   His smiled widened, and he unbuttoned the front of his trousers with one hand, revealing that swollen, beautiful part of him, and she licked her lips, remem bering the way he'd tasted, the way he'd felt. How could she ever have thought she'd never finish what they'd started?