Tomorrow's Dreams (29 page)

She stole a glance at Seth from beneath her lowered lashes. With Seth acting out the role of Roscoe, the scene might easily prove to be her favorite. All the kissing might also provide her with the chance she needed to rekindle the sparks she'd seen smoldering in his eyes when he thought she wasn't looking.

Biting her lower lip to suppress her smile, she handed him the script. “Except for page thirty-two, I pretty much know the play by heart. I still get confused on a couple of the lines.”

“Fine, then we'll go over the lines that are troubling you.” He gave the dialogue a cursory glance. “From the top?”

She nodded. “That will be fine.”

“You start. You say, ‘Don't swear your love …'”

“‘… By the silvery moon, lest it prove to be as inconsistent as her shape,'” Penelope finished.

“‘Then, what should I swear by?'” he intoned.

“‘Don't swear, show me your love. Demonstrate with your lips.'” Penelope's heart pounded like a tom-tom as she breathlessly awaited Seth's response. This was where he was supposed to sweep her into his embrace and kiss her.

When he finally looked up, the rhythm in her chest quickened into triple time. A sensual half smile curved his lips, and his eyes were ablaze with topaz fire.

Looking at her in a way that made her hotter than if she were staked out in the desert in 110-degree weather, he murmured, “It says I'm supposed to kiss you now.”

She ducked her head in an attempt to hide her burning cheeks. “Miles was complaining about my stage kiss this morning, so I guess we had better practice it.”

He laughed in a low, throaty way that sent rivulets of liquid fire shooting through her belly. “Well, I did promise the company that I'd see to it that your performance was rehearsed to perfection if they excused you for the afternoon. And seeing as I'm a man of my word …” In one fluid motion he tossed down the script and pulled her onto his lap. Holding her in a half-reclining position with her back cradled against his left arm, he covered her mouth with his.

His kiss was gentle, almost impersonal, with his cool lips barely caressing hers. Yet, for Penelope, just being in Seth's arms again and feeling the warmth of his breath washing over her cheeks was enough to send a shiver of excitement up her spine.

How many nights had she lain awake, her body taut and aching with unfilled desire, wishing for a moment such as this? How many times had she hungered for his taste, ravenous to feel his tongue burning against hers as she feasted upon his passion?

Suddenly frustrated with their chaste kiss and impatient to deepen it into one more satisfying, she coiled her arms around his neck and parted her lips.

“Penelope!” he groaned, dragging his mouth from hers.

She tightened her grip on his neck and pulled his head back down until his face was just inches from hers. “You promised to help me perfect my kissing skills. Remember?”

“They're perfect. Trust me,” he muttered, looking everywhere but in her eyes.

She shook her head. “Not according to Miles. He said I need to …
hmm
, what did he say?” She creased her brow as if baffled, though she clearly remembered and looked forward to following the actor's directions with Seth. After slowly counting to five, she released a soft, breathy laugh. “Oh, yes. He said I'm supposed to press my body against Roscoe's and cling to his shoulders.”

“I don't think …” Seth began, but his words were cut off by his own moan as she shifted to straddle his lap.

With her skirts immodestly rucked up to her thighs and her knees pressing into either side of his hips, Penelope molded her torso to his, crushing her breasts against his chest until they swelled in tempting mounds above her square neckline. “How is this?” she asked, nodding at her enticing display. “Do you suppose I'm close enough?”

Seth looked down and released a ragged sob. Even through the wadded layers of her skirt, she felt the already pronounced bulge in his trousers thicken and harden against her buttocks.

Feigning oblivion to his aroused state, she mused, “Perhaps the embrace would look better onstage if I were to position my body so.” She squirmed a fraction to the right, deliberately grinding against his erection as she moved.

His body jerked as if jolted by an electrical shock.

She stared into his contorted face, her features schooled into an expression of bemused innocence. “Not right? Oh, dear.” Biting her lip to keep from smiling at his groaning, inarticulate response, she ventured, “Would you prefer it if I cheated more to the left … like this?”

He let out a yelp as her pelvis undulated against his groin. “Dear God … Pen …” he whimpered, shutting his eyes and gasping as if suffocated by his passion. “You …”

“Need to close my eyes like you're doing,” she finished, bringing her mouth so close to his that their lips brushed as she spoke. “What an inspired touch! But then, I knew you'd be a good teacher, Seth. Your lessons in love have always been most”—she boldly nipped his lower lip—“edifying.”

Emitting a sound, half sob, half growl, Seth crushed her into his embrace and roughly claimed her mouth with his. She returned his kiss with reckless abandon, the savage fire of her desire burning hotter with every intimate brush and nip.

Never had his kisses been so urgent, never had she craved them more. Every fiber of her being was alive and tingling with pleasure, heat danced beneath her skin. And when his tongue parted her lips, an aching need exploded low in her belly.

Moaning in a way that resonated through her soul, Seth slowly reclined back upon the quilt, never once pausing in his sensual assault as he dragged her down on top of him.

His tongue was hot, wet, insistent, like steel sheathed in moist velvet, as it plundered the sensitive recesses of her mouth. Sighing her pleasure, she melted against him, drowning in a delicious tide of sensation. His kisses were everything she remembered and more. Much more. They kindled within her fierce womanly desires, which had been but restless, girlish stirrings during their courtship.

As if in reply to the beckoning of her newly awakened body, Seth clasped her buttocks and pinned her pelvis against his groin. Releasing a quivering groan, he arched up and slammed his arousal hard against her belly. Over and over again he repeated his inflamed motion, shuddering and jerking with every thrust.

With her own desire pooling like molten lava in her secret place, Penelope wantonly rubbed her woman's mound against his pummeling manhood. How she wanted him! She longed to see him lying naked before her, his sex erect and visibly throbbing with need. She ached to feel him moving inside her and to gift him with the special kind of rapture that only a woman in love can give a man. For love Seth she did, with every breath in her body, with every beat of her heart. And there was nothing in the world she wanted more at that moment than to show him how she felt.

Driven by passion, one more compelling than she'd ever dreamed possible, Penelope slipped her hand between their bodies and brazenly crushed her palm against his wool-encased erection.

His whole body stiffened. “Dear God, Princess! I … I …” Panting harshly, he pushed her off him and rolled away. As he struggled to his knees, clutching at his belly as if in terrible agony, he moaned, “I … can't.” The utterance sounded as if it were torn from the bottom of his soul.

Penelope whimpered, shamed by, but not sorry for her immodest behavior. The only thing she regretted was Seth's gentlemanly withdrawal from their pleasurable little tête-à-tête.

Sighing her disappointment, she sat up. Perhaps Miles was right, maybe she was no more of a lady than Hell-cat Helga. Yet if being a lady meant denying her passion for the man she loved, then she wanted no part of that frigid sisterhood. She intended to show Seth her feelings every chance she got, and continue showing them until she won him back. The poor man didn't have a chance. She smiled and shot her quarry a covetous glance.

He still knelt a couple of feet away, his features cloaked by his hair and his breath coming out in great, sobbing gasps. Suddenly, as if rocked by intense pain, his body began to convulse and when he buried his face against his fists, she saw that they were clenched so tightly that the veins stood out.

“What's wrong, Seth?” she cried, alarmed that he was suffering some sort of dangerous seizure. She latched on to his arms, her anxiety escalating as she noted the quivering tension of his muscles. Had he contracted some awful disease during the time they were apart? Could that ailment be the reason for his almost panicked retreat just moments earlier?

As abruptly as his shaking began, it ceased. And beneath her clutching hands, she felt his muscles begin to relax. After a minute more, he dropped his fists to his knees.

Her hands trembling with tenderness, Penelope reached up and tucked his hair behind his ears. Gently cupping his chin in her palm, she tipped his face up. His eyes were screwed closed and his skin was as ashen as if he'd been gut-punched. All in all, he had the look of a man who was suffering terribly.

Aching with compassion, she stroked his cheek, imploring, “Please, Seth. Tell me what's wrong. I want to help if I can.”

He remained silent a brief while longer, shaking his head now and then as if engaged in an inner debate. Then he drew in a deep breath and lifted the spiky shield of his eyelashes.

Once again his eyes were the cool, greenish-brown of a mossy forest pond, and as his gaze met hers, it was as dispassionate as if they'd spent the last few minutes discussing the local flora and fauna. Pulling his chin from her hand, he said with a dismissive shrug, “I'm all right.”

“I'm not blind!” she exclaimed indignantly. “I can see that there's obviously something terribly wrong with you.”

He laughed and picked up the abandoned script. “You've spent way too much time with that sister-in-law of yours. You're beginning to sound just like her.”

“Well, one can't live in the same house as a doctor and not learn anything. You'd be surprised at the sorts of things I know.”

“Then, perhaps you're familiar with a condition commonly known as blue balls?”

Penelope ducked her head to hide the heat of embarrassment rising in her cheeks. She knew about blue balls, all right. It was Miles's favorite malady, one which, according to his whining, afflicted him with astonishing regularity. Why hadn't she realized that that was Seth's problem as well? It wasn't as if she hadn't been aware of his intense arousal.

“I can see that you know exactly what I'm talking about,” he observed, closing the slim volume in his hand. “Now, unless you're set on further aggravating my condition, I suggest we end rehearsal and go on to the circus. I spoke with the circus owner this morning, and he mentioned that he has a sideshow with all sorts of exotic spectacles. If we leave now, we'll have time to see it before the main show begins.”

As it turned out, the sideshow was every bit as fascinating as the circus owner claimed. There was a sword swallower, an armless woman who drew portraits with her feet, an incombustible man with an appetite for burning coals, as well as the usual assortment of midgets, freaks, and daredevil acts.

It wasn't these marvels, however, as wondrous as they were, that captivated Penelope. It was Seth. That glorious afternoon he was the irrepressible, uninhibited Seth of old; the Seth she knew best who laughed easily and frolicked with a joyous abandon that bordered on hedonism. Now as then, his gaiety was contagious, and she was quickly infected with his merriment.

Though she'd been to dozens of circuses over the years, Seth made this one feel as fresh and exciting as her first. From the moment they arrived at the tent-and-wagon-strewn circus grounds, he took a childlike delight in the colorful sights and sounds around him. He was almost frantic in his eagerness to see, do, and taste everything. He ate taffy, licorice, and popcorn, drank what looked like a gallon of lemonade, and bought trinkets until they were so burdened down that she begged him to stop.

Once in the red, white, and blue tent, settled in their front row, dress circle seats, his high spirits soared until they verged on silliness. Just watching him enjoy the show filled her with pleasure. In fact, she smiled so much that her face ached.

With unbridled enthusiasm he cheered the equestrians, traded jokes with the clowns, and daringly volunteered to have an apple shot from the top of his head, a la William Tell. By the time the performance was over, he'd charmed both audience and performers.

The highlight of the day, however, came after the show was over. Munching on a caramel and carrying a bag full of peanuts, Seth led her around to the back of the tent, where he introduced her to Kongo, the mighty African elephant, and his keeper, Josh. While she got acquainted with Kongo, crooning what a handsome fellow he was while feeding him Seth's peanuts, Seth mysteriously disappeared. When he returned a quarter of an hour later, he was accompanied by another man carrying photographic equipment. Before she quite knew what was happening, she found herself perched on top of Kongo with Seth, having her picture taken. It was one of the most magical moments of her life.

All too soon it came time to bid Kongo and the circus farewell. Yet even then the marvelous afternoon didn't end. As they drove back to the Shakespeare, Seth hilariously reenacted several of the acts, making their short trip almost as entertaining as the circus had been. And by the time they pulled up to the saloon's deserted back entrance, Penelope was helplessly doubled over with laughter.

She was still giggling when Seth came around and lifted her from the buggy. “I can't remember the last time I had such a wonderful day!” she enthused.

“I enjoyed it, too,” he replied, plucking a peanut shell from her hair. “It was kind of you to show me the circus.”

“Me show you?” Her smile broadened at that notion. “You showed me. You made me see everything in a whole new way.”