The Reluctant Lark (7 page)

Sheena nodded eagerly and levered herself hurriedly to a sitting position, only to clutch the sheet up to her chin with a shocked cry. She was totally nude!

“Oops, I forgot about that,” Challon said, grinning mischievously as he put the tray on the bedside table. He strode quickly across the room, opened the top drawer in the cherrywood bureau, and drew out a filmy gown in a brilliant shade of sunshine yellow. Grabbing a matching bed jacket, he returned to the bed. He slipped the gown over her head and then lifted her to smooth the gown down around her with impersonal efficiency. He put her arms in the bed jacket before giving her a kiss on her surprised lips and turning away to retrieve the tray and place it on her lap. “I’m going to miss seeing you naked as Eve,” he said, winking outrageously as the color flooded her cheeks.

“Was that really necessary?” she asked faintly, her eyes avoiding his as she carefully buttered a crusty warm roll.

He dropped back down in the brown leather easy chair and stretched his legs before him lazily. “Well, I told myself it was,” he drawled, then grinned shamelessly. “It made things much easier nursing you. Besides, looking at you was the only enjoyable aspect of the entire hellish week. I figured that I deserved it.”

Somehow this did not even raise a spark of indignation in Sheena. The intimacy that had evolved between them since her illness had inexplicably quenched her former antagonism. How could she object to him seeing her naked when she could vaguely remember crying out to be held in his arms through the long, frightening hours of the darkness? He had given to her with
complete selflessness and dedication and had forged bonds that she would now find almost impossible to break.

“What happened to me?” she asked quietly, as she took a bite of the slightly rare steak. “I gather I’ve been quite ill?”

He nodded his head. “You fell into the lake,” he said, his face turning grim at the memory. “I got you out before you drowned, but you were still suffering from hypothermia. That lake is glacier cold this time of year. I carried you back to the cabin and put you to bed and then radioed for the doctor.” He raised a sandy eyebrow inquiringly. “Do you remember Dr. Knowleton?”

She shook her head, and he said, “I didn’t think you would. You were pretty much out of your head by the time he arrived. You were alternating between chills and fever, and I was almost out of my mind.” He leaned forward suddenly and closed his hand over her blanket-covered thigh. “Don’t you ever do that to me again, do you hear?” he said hoarsely, his expression fierce. “I thought you were going to die before Knowleton got here,”

Then as he met her wide, startled eyes, his hand loosened, and he sat back in the chair and relaxed. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you. Go on with your dinner,” he said, wearily running his hand through his tawny hair. “Knowleton said that you were not only suffering from shock but prolonged exhaustion and anemia.” He scowled darkly, “Plus a slight case of malnutrition. Your loving uncle certainly took great care of you!” Then as she would have protested, he made an impatient wave with his hand. “Well, that’s water under the bridge. He won’t get another chance with you now. Even after you got over the shock, I couldn’t rouse you from that damned lethargy. The doctor said it was just exhaustion and that you’d snap out of it yourself in time.” He shook his head ruefully. “He didn’t mention that I’d almost go nuts before you got around to it.”

“You took very good care of me,” she said gravely. “I was aware of that, at least.” She hadn’t noticed before that his eyes crinkled up at the corners when he smiled, she thought.

“I guess it goes with the territory. But you can bet I’ll be a damn sight more careful the next time I kidnap a lovely lady. It can obviously be a very tricky proposition.”

Her lips curved in a little smile, and her dark eyes twinkled with amusement. “You’re planning on making a practice of it, then?”

Challon’s expression took on an intentness that caused sudden warmth to flood her veins with a sweet langour. “No,” he said thickly. “Once is enough, little dove.”

He reached over and picked up the napkin on the tray and dabbed her lips gently. “Butter,” he said huskily. “I was tempted to remove it in a considerably more erotic manner, but I have to keep reminding myself that you’re still an invalid.”

She shook her head resignedly, and a low chuckle of amusement broke from her. “You’re utterly daft,” she said, as she finished the last bite of steak and pushed the plate away.

There was a warm gentleness in her expression that brought a searching thoughtfulness to Challon’s face. “You’re not angry with me any more, are you?” he asked quietly.

She shook her head. “No, I’m not angry.” She took a sip of tea. “It’s very difficult holding on to a grudge against someone who’s not only saved my life but has taken care of me in the way you have.”

He frowned. “I don’t want your gratitude. I only want you to promise not to do anything foolish like trying to run away from me again.”

She shook her head slowly, her dark eyes grave. “I can’t give you that promise. I have obligations to fulfill. My Uncle Donal and Sean will be very worried if I don’t return soon.” Holding the teacup, she leaned back against the pillows. “At first, I thought that your actions
were those of a bored playboy looking for a new game to play, but I’ve changed my mind.” She looked up to meet his eyes earnestly. “For some reason, you sincerely believe that I need rescuing. But can’t you see how wrong you are? My uncle has never been anything but kindness itself to me, and I’ve never been forced to do anything that I didn’t want to do. There are just some duties that must be performed even though there is a little pain involved.”

“A little pain!” He snorted, his lips twisting bitterly. “Don’t try to make light of it, damn it. Remember, I was the one who was holding you when those nightmares were ripping you apart. If I’d had your loving Uncle Donal here then, I’d have strangled him with my bare hands.”

Then his expression lost its grimness as he saw her troubled face. He bent forward swiftly and kissed her lightly on the tip of her nose. “We won’t argue about it now. I’d be foolish to push my luck when I’ve made so many gains already. You have my permission to make all the escape attempts you like as long as you don’t put yourself in danger again. In return for my gracious leniency, would it be too much to ask that you just put aside your very solemn ‘duties’ and let me teach you how to play, little dove?” He smiled coaxingly, his golden eyes twinkling. “You might just as well give in to the big, bad kidnapper until you can wrest yourself from my clutches. No one can blame you for submitting to the inevitable.”

“It depends on what you consider ‘play,’ ” Sheena said cautiously, her spirits rising to meet the reckless challenge in Challon’s face. It was true that she couldn’t help her situation at the moment. Would it be so wrong to let Challon demonstrate what he’d meant when he said he would transform her into a lark?

He arched a brow. “If you expect a promise that I won’t try to seduce you, you’re not going to get it,” he said frankly. “I fully intend to get you into my bed at the earliest opportunity. That’s going to be number
one on my list of priorities.” One tender finger reached out to trace the passionate curve of her lips. “I guarantee that you’re going to enjoy those particular lessons most of all. The only promise you’ll get from me on that score is that you’ll want it just as much as I do.”

“You’re very confident.”

“You’re damn right I am. You’ve already seen the kind of chemistry we have working for us. I believe that I’m experienced enough to know how to pleasure you, love.” His lion eyes twinkled teasingly. “I wasn’t brought up in a convent or had a dragon uncle protecting
my
virtue!”

That fact was more than evident, Sheena thought crossly. He’d probably had women standing in line to receive that mocking grin since he was in kindergarten. Well, he wouldn’t find her so easy to manipulate, she thought. Challon was a charming and companionable man, and there was no real reason why she should not enjoy a brief holiday until she could convince him to release her. She obviously needed a rest, as was evidenced by the physical breakdown she had suffered. Challon was so sure of his powers of persuasion that she had no fear that he would use any form of coercion to force her to a sexual commitment. She had every confidence that she would be as safe as she wanted to be.

His golden eyes were narrowed like those of a pouncing cat. “What about it, little dove? Truce?”

For an instant she felt a moment of apprehension as she met that predatory gaze. Was she underestimating the power and determination of the man? There was little doubt that despite the curious tenderness that he displayed to her, he was a very dangerous man. Then she shrugged off the worrisome thought. She absolutely refused to let fanciful imaginings cause her to be intimidated.

“Truce,” she agreed firmly, setting the cup back in its saucer. She was rewarded by a brilliant smile that
was so tender that it caused a strange flutter somewhere near her heart.

“I’ll see that you don’t regret it,” he said quietly, as he rose to his feet and picked up the tray from her lap. “I’ll get rid of this tray and be back in a minute. I think you’d better stay in bed and rest for today.” As he headed for the door, he glanced back over his shoulder to ask, “Do you play chess?”

“No,” she answered. “I’ve never bothered to learn.”

“I’ll teach you.” He grinned. “It’s a great way to hone up your strategic skills. I’ve never enjoyed an easy victory.”

Her lips curved in a reluctant smile as he opened the door. Then her smile faded, and a frown crossed her brow. “Rand!” she called impulsively. When he looked back inquiringly, she asked, “Who’s Laura?”

He gave her a grin that held an element of mischief. “I think I’ll let you wonder about that for a while. They say a little spice of jealousy can be a healthy ingredient to any relationship.” He closed the door softly behind him.

Sheena was not destined to meet Laura Bradford until the next morning.

Challon had given permission for Sheena to come downstairs for breakfast, and she realized that she was very eager to leave her sickbed behind her. She found that she was only a little shaky when she got out of bed and made her way to the adjoining bathroom to shower and wash her hair. Then, feeling considerably better, she returned to the bedroom to search out something to wear.

There was more than a generous selection in the built-in closet and the bureau drawers, she discovered. They contained everything from the most fragile underwear to designer jeans and imported bulky knit sweaters. She was amused to note that except for the jeans, everything was in hues that rivaled the peacock for brilliance. Evidently Challon had been quite sincere in his hatred for her drab, somber wardrobe and had supplied her with one to his own taste. It didn’t even
surprise her that everything was in her size. A man as thorough as Challon would hardly slip up on a minor detail such as that.

She pulled on a pair of designer jeans and a stunning scarlet and white ski sweater. She made a face as she noticed the slight looseness in the waist of the jeans. Well, the fit was almost perfect. Challon couldn’t be expected to have anticipated the weight loss due to her illness. Her face was thinner, too, she noticed gloomily, as she brushed her dark gypsy curls into some sort of order.

In fact, the image that looked out of the mirror was so delicate and fragile-looking that she gave a sigh of discouragement. Even the stunning scarlet of the sweater could not turn her into the exciting, full-blooded woman that Challon had said was his ideal. His purported obsession for her would probably be a temporary aberration that would fade with lightning rapidity when he recognized that she had none of the sophisticated appeal of his usual female companions. It wouldn’t surprise her if he jetted her back to her own world even faster than he’d whisked her away. She was careful not to ask herself why this thought caused her to feel a sudden moroseness. Slipping into brown dockside strollers, she left the bedroom.

Challon was waiting in the hallway at the foot of the stairs, and there was no hint of disappointment in his face as his gaze went over her with lingering thoroughness as she came down the stairs. When she reached the third step from the bottom, he grasped her slim waist in both his hands and swung her down the last steps. He gave her a quick, hard kiss before putting her down.

When she would have protested, he said softly, “I missed you. Do you know that last night was the first night since we arrived here that I haven’t slept with you?” He chuckled as her eyes widened in shock. “Of course you probably don’t remember much of it, but I
found it very pleasant to have you curled up so trustingly in my arms.”

He was wrong. She remembered quite vividly snuggling up to the golden man on several occasions, but she hadn’t realized that he had slept with her as a matter of course. She could feel the color flood her cheeks as she remembered that she apparently had been completely nude during that entire week.

He chuckled again as he noticed her sudden discomposure. Keeping one arm around her waist, he turned her in the direction of the kitchen. “Come along and meet Laura,” he said.

With its glowing maple cabinets and early American decor, the combination kitchen/dining room had a colorful hominess. The polished maple dining table and red-gingham cushioned captain’s chairs fronted an oval brick fireplace that contained a cheerful fire.

Challon propelled Sheena past the dining area to a tall, elegant figure standing with her back to them at the stove. Slipping his arms about the woman’s waist, he planted a light kiss on the nape of her neck. “Sheena, this is my best girl, Laura Bradford.”

The woman turned and leveled a stern eye at Challon. “If you don’t stop your hell-raising and fooling around, I’ll be the only girl who will have you, Rand Challon,” she said tartly.

Laura Bradford was a woman in her middle sixties and undoubtedly one of the plainest women Sheena had ever met. The older woman was almost painfully thin and just a shade under six feet. Her short mousy brown hair was thin and permed into a riot of curls framing a freckled face whose only charm lay in a pair of exceptionally fine eyes, the color of rich brandy. Her unimpressive appearance, however, was more than offset by the character in her face and the chic elegance of the navy blue slacks and heavy silk Dior smock that she wore.