The Orchid Hunter

by Jill Marie Landis

  He should be the one strong enough to walk away, but all he wanted was to kiss her again. He tried to keep himself from touching her but failed miserably. He reached for a long tendril of her hair and let it slide through his fingers.

  “How can you be sure there was nothing wrong with the milk?” she whispered.

  “Because I had none of it and I feel the same way you do,” he whispered back.

  His heart was beating hard as a racehorse’s at the end of a mile-long race. He felt hot and cold, empty yet full as he quickened with desire.

  In the lamplight, beneath the shimmering reflections from the raindrops sliding down the glass roof, her upturned face was radiantly alive and very expectant.

  “I’m afraid I’m going to kiss you again.” If only she would slap him, bring him to his senses. If only she would protest, or walk away.

  “Like a gentleman?”

  “No. But at least this time I’m giving you fair warning.”

  “Then don’t be afraid,” she whispered.

  He was lost. He closed his eyes and let himself drift into the sensations she evoked and took his time kissing her. She went up onto her toes and leaned into him, offering her delicious mouth. He found himself thinking of mangoes, of summer sun and tropical breezes.

  Her satin robe slipped open as the weight of the fabric pulled her nightdress off her shoulder, exposing the rise of her breast. He grazed her smooth, bare skin with his palm. Textured like silk, her skin tempted him to dip his hand below the neckline of her gown, to explore her bare back and then her ripe breasts beneath the sheer fabric.

  He moaned and deepened the kiss and willed his hands not to stray. When her arms slipped around his neck, he wrapped her in a tight embrace and pulled her closer. She was soft and supple and yet very fit. Conditioned by the jungle, she was trim and lithe.

  He found the idea of running his hands over every inch of her finely honed body more arousing than anything he could imagine. As he held her close and pressed his aching loins against her, she responded naturally. Without hesitation, she pressed back.

  She opened her lips to let him gently explore with his tongue. He teased her until she moaned. He lifted his head, pulling back to look at her. Her robe slipped open further, down to her elbow, dragging her nightgown with it. The blush pink stain of her nipple teased him, tempted him.

  He had already gone too far. He knew better, knew that he might have irrevocably changed the direction of their lives with this second chance encounter, and yet he was out of control and could not stop.

  She was so very willing, so tantalizing, an exotic, golden-haired goddess that he had discovered in the depths of the jungle valley. One of his most precious finds.

  He lowered his head, laved her nipple with his tongue, caressed it with his lips. She was panting. He felt her fingers tighten on his shoulders. She softly gasped and gave a little cry of wonder as she raked her splayed fingers through his hair, pressed his mouth against her breast.

  Then, above their commingled, ragged breathing, he heard another sound, the slightest footfall upon the stone floor of the conservatory. As he lifted his head, he heard a muffled cry, then the sound of a clay pot shattering against stone. He and Joya turned as one and saw Janelle run from the room.

  Joya pulled out of his arms, drew up the edge of her gown and robe, and stood there trembling.

  “Oh, Trevor. Did she see us?”

  “She saw more than that,” he said, silently cursing himself, hating having hurt the one person who had been closest to him in all the world.

  “She is very upset,” Joya cried. “I can feel it here.” She touched her heart. “I have hurt my sister terribly. We have hurt her.”

  “Let me talk to her,” he said lamely, wishing he knew what to say, how to explain something to Janelle when he could not understand it himself. He had broken every rule in the book with an innocent who had been overly naive and oh-so-ripe for the taking.

  He walked over to where Joya stood trembling amid the rows of orchids perched on their high benches. He saw the tears in her eyes, tears he had put there, and he felt like a cad.

  “I’m sorry, Joya. It seems that all I am capable of doing is hurting you.”

  “I’m afraid we’ve both hurt Janelle.” Her voice broke. “Perhaps you should go to her, Trevor. I do not know what to say.”

  “Will you be all right?”

  She nodded.

  Trevor finger-combed his hair and straightened his jacket. He would go to Janelle and try to make things right. If she hated him forever, he would certainly understand why, but he would never forgive himself.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Janelle heard Trevor’s footsteps on the uncarpeted stairs that led to her studio on the third floor. There was a hurried certainty in his steps, a pounding rhythm of purpose.

  Surprise and shock had sent her running from the conservatory like a frightened sheep. She had recovered her composure, but she was still heartily embarrassed.

  All around her, her paintings were gathered on every available surface; easels, tables, chairs, windowsills. Before Africa, her work had represented visions she did not understand, glimpses into a world she had never seen. Windows to her dreams. Now she treasured each creation, for the inspiration behind them had led her to her sister.

  Trevor stepped into the studio without knocking. She faced him, outwardly calm, still flustered inside. Until tonight, her brother’s private affairs had been his own.

  She expected him to begin without hesitation, but he did not. Instead, in a way she had never seen him before, he stood silent and uncomfortable.

  “I’m sorry I walked in on you like that.” She offered him a place to begin and shoved the bridge of her spectacles up her nose.

  “I’m the one who is sorry. To have put you in such an awkward position. To have lost control. It will not happen again.”

  He crossed the room, pausing near one of her favorite paintings—the marketplace on Zanzibar. He ran both hands through his hair and sighed loud enough to be heard over the rain softly falling on the skylight.

  “Are you saying that you won’t make love to my sister again, or that the next time you will make certain I won’t walk in on you?”

  “I never should have touched her. Your having seen us only compounds my lack of judgment. I’m sorry, Janelle.”

  “I have compounded your lack of judgment? Joya is falling in love with you, Trevor.”

  She could see that her revelation disturbed him greatly. He smoothed his hand down his shirtfront as he looked away.

  “She’s falling in love with me?”

  “Of course. You surely feel some affection for her, don’t you? I never imagined you were the kind of man who would toy with an innocent young woman.”

  “I did not toy with her!”

  “Joya is infatuated with you. She has no reference save the Matarengi and her parents’ actions. She has no clear notion of what a young woman should or should not do with a man. She trusts you.”

  He walked to a nearby table and leaned his hip against it. She had never seen him look so miserable in his life.

  “How do you know she is falling in love with me? Have you two actually discussed this?”

  “We talked about it when she was settling into her room. To be honest, Trevor, at first I was uncomfortable with the notion of the two of you together. The fact that she is my twin made the idea very unsettling.”

  He pushed off the ledge and halved the distance between them. “Is that why you ran out of the conservatory?”

  “No. I ran because I was embarrassed at having interrupted you. And, I was shocked at what I saw.” She shook her head and sighed. “That in itself upsets me because I liked to think I was more unconventional,” she mused aloud, frowning.

  The corner of his lips lifted into a half-smile. He shrugged. “I’m happy to hear you are not as broadminded as you professed to be. I was afraid that you might have been corrupted by Lady Cecily.”

&
nbsp; “Obviously not. Nor do I want to see Joya corrupted. Thank God it was I who walked in on you. Had it been one of the servants, or Grandmama—I hate to think what might have happened. You can rest assured I will be discreet where my sister is concerned, but if it had been anyone but me, she could have been mined.”

  “You need not condemn me for kissing your sister. I’m already condemning myself.”

  “You did much more than kiss her.” Janelle felt herself blushing at the memory of the passionate scene she had interrupted.

  He spread his hands in a gesture of surrender. “I honestly don’t know what came over me. Lately I seemed to have lost the ability to think around her.”

  “Why don’t you simply admit to having feelings for her? What you are experiencing is an emotion—it is desire, Trevor.”

  “I’ll admit I was intrigued almost from the moment I laid eyes on her. At first, I had the same misgivings as you, because she is your twin.”

  “From what I saw tonight, I would say you have gotten over any discomfort.”

  “Because you are both very distinct individuals.”

  He looked so uncomfortable that she wanted to spare him further anguish.

  “I know very well that what I saw you two doing tonight had nothing to do with me.”

  He crossed the room, hesitating but a second before he slipped his arm around her in a most brotherly manner. “Thank God. You know I couldn’t bear to lose you, Janelle, as a sister or a friend.”

  “There is no chance of that, but I must defend my sister’s honor, Trevor. She has no one else.”

  He walked away. “I won’t touch her again. I swear it.”

  “You don’t have to go that far. I would welcome a match between you, for she is everything I would wish for you and more. You have had to shoulder so much responsibility that it has made you far too serious. Joya is full of life and spontaneity. She fairly sparkles. I think she is just the kind of woman you need.”

  He eyed her with suspicion. “Was that surprise visit to the warehouse today intended to bring us together?”

  “I won’t lie to you. It was.”

  “I would appreciate your not playing matchmaker anymore. I have too many responsibilities, too many plans. I cannot become entangled with Joya, or any other woman right now.”

  “When are you leaving for Venezuela?”

  “Shortly after Grandmother’s party, I hope.”

  “After what happened tonight, Joya will surely wonder why your ardor has suddenly cooled. What am I to say if she asks me why? Do you intend to tell her the truth?”

  “Would she actually speak to you of such personal things?”

  Janelle shrugged. “Women talk out their troubles. Who else can she speak to? You owe her an explanation.”

  “She will have one.”

  “When?”

  “When the time is right. When I know what to say. I don’t want to hurt her.”

  “Grandmother’s soirée is in two weeks.” She picked up a paintbrush and smoothed the sable tip. “It will be good for her to meet other men. After all, you are the first Englishman besides her father that she has ever really known.”

  Janelle suspected Trevor was feigning an indifference he did not feel when he turned away before he said, “Perhaps she will.”

  “All I ask is that you don’t hurt her, Trevor.”

  “I wouldn’t hurt her for the world.” He looked back. “She’s very concerned about your feelings right now.”

  “I’ll go up and tell her good-night. I don’t want this left between us.” Janelle laid her brush down and wiped her hands on a rag.

  Trevor bid her good-night and walked out the door. Janelle knew what it had cost him in pride to apologize. He was so rarely wrong, so forthright in his business dealings and in the way he treated everyone, that there was not much in his life he had ever had to apologize for.

  He prided himself on being a man of honor and of his word. She had a notion that his feelings for Joya were much stronger than even he knew or could admit to himself, especially since he had been overcome by emotions powerful enough to cause him to lose all sense of propriety.

  How far would he have actually let himself go tonight had she not walked in on them? Was he falling in love?

  She doubted even he knew the answers.

  * * *

  Joya lay very still in the middle of her bed, dressed in her nightgown, eyes closed, hands folded. Aware of every nerve, every tingle, every shiver that ran down her spine, she had decided that if she did not move or speak, she might not lose the lovely experience of having been in Trevor’s arms.

  A soft knock sounded upon the door, then the door opened and she heard footsteps as someone approached the bed.

  “Janelle?” she whispered.

  “Joya, are you all right? Should I call a doctor?” Her sister ran to her side, took her hand, and began to chafe it.

  “I am fine.”

  “Then why are you lying there like death? You gave me a fright.”

  Since the fluttering feelings inside her were almost gone, Joya sat up and looked at Janelle. “Are you all right?” she asked.

  “Of course I am,” Janelle said.

  “I could not bear it if you were angry with me.”

  “I am not angry with you.”

  Suddenly Joya was off the bed. She took Janelle’s hand. “Please, don’t be angry with Trevor, either. I am the one who is forever breaking the rules.”

  Janelle appeared very, very thoughtful. “But he knows them all far better than you.”

  “Oh, Janelle, hasn’t such a wondrous thing ever happened to you?” Joya lowered her voice to a whisper and glanced at the door. “Haven’t you ever been swept away with desire?”

  “No, but from the radiant look on your face I am beginning to think I may be missing something.”

  Joya grabbed the edges of her robe and clutched the satin material tight in her hands.

  “I never thought anything could be so very remarkable. Why, when Trevor kissed it me, the feelings inside me were stronger than when Kibatante stirs and shakes the whole island.”

  “Kiba-who?”

  “His hands were so warm, his lips so sure. I only hope that someday very soon someone will kiss you and touch you as tenderly. I think that you English have far too many rules against something so wonderful. The strength of desire is very hard to resist.”

  “I don’t think that you resisted very hard, Joya. At least not from what I saw.”

  Joya looked down at her hands and tightened the sash on her robe. There were some things one simply could not explain in words.

  When she looked up again, Janelle was standing in front of the open window, fanning herself with her hands. A carriage was passing by on the street below. The sound of horses’ hooves clacked against the cobblestones.

  “Janelle, your face is all red. Are you all right?”

  “I was not prepared to hear a lecture on desire tonight.” She leaned out the window, took a deep breath, and then drew back inside. She crossed the room and took Joya’s hands in hers. “Let’s not speak of this again.” Janelle pushed her spectacles up and blinked. “Let’s concentrate on Grandmother’s soiree. Monsieur Renault is a Frenchman, an expert on dance who will be here in the morning to give you your first formal lesson.”

  “A dancing lesson?” Joya had no notion why anyone would need a teacher for something so natural and uncomplicated. Dancing came from the heart, from the rhythm of the drums.

  “I can already dance,” she assured Janelle. “I used to dance all the time on Matarenga. I have danced since I was a child.”

  “We’ll call it a review, then. Grandmama insists.”

  “In the morning?”

  “Yes, and the dressmaker wants another fitting tomorrow, too.”

  “Not her again.”

  “Don’t look so fierce. Promise me that you won’t frighten poor Madame Fifi to death. No more bloodcurdling war cries.”

  “Perhaps
just a short one, if she pokes me with pins again. When will I see Trevor?”

  She did not like the way Janelle turned away with a sigh. Her sister was hiding something; she could feel it. She had caught a glimpse of reticence in her eyes.

  “Trevor will be very busy for the next few days, but you are not to worry. We’ll be busy, too, preparing for the party.” Then, Janelle crossed the room and hugged her tight. “Promise me you will not let yourself be overwhelmed by desire any time soon.”

  “I don’t know if I can make such a promise.”

  “Then tell me you will at least try.”

  “I’ll try.”

  “Good. Now let’s forget all about what happened tonight.”

  Joya was at a loss for words as Janelle straightened her spectacles, walked to the door, and bid her good night.

  If she lived to be older than Otakgi she would never, ever forget what had happened in the conservatory tonight.

  Chapter Seventeen

  With guest list in hand, Adelaide paused outside the door to the drawing room. Every morning for the past two weeks, the most deplorable torture of the tender sensibilities of Monsieur Renault, dance instructor, had taken place behind that door.

  If she had not been paying the man a small fortune to teach Joya Penn how to dance, Adelaide might actually have felt sorry for the preening Frenchman.

  Not only was Janelle’s sister possessed of two left feet, but she had a habit of twisting words around until a person had no idea how a simple conversation could stray so far off the mark.

  Nowhere in the house was she safe from Joya Penn. Lately the girl seemed to be everywhere, constantly putting her nose where it did not belong, upsetting the servants’ routine. Even Sims had been acting peculiar, forever scratching at his shirtfront.

  One way or another, Adelaide was determined to rid her home of Janelle’s twin. But for now she had decided to concentrate on her dinner party as a means to that end.

  How better to prove to Trevor that the girl was not right for him than to let her embarrass herself in front of their closest friends and associates?