Leaning over the cluttered landscape of papers, whiskey bottle, and cigars, Penelope gently pulled his hand away from his lips and drew it to her own to kiss the tip of his damaged index finger. “My poor darling. You’ve had a rough day, haven’t you?”
Seth made an impatient noise and snatched his hand away. “What do you want? I’m sure you didn’t come to kiss my wounds.”
Turning a deaf ear to his querulous tone, she sauntered around to his side of the desk, stopping only when she stood next to his chair. Tenderly stroking his bruised cheek, she said, “That’s exactly why I’ve come. You’ve been beaten up both inside and out this evening, and as the woman who loves you, it’s my duty to kiss away your hurts.”
He jerked his head away from her caressing touch and glared up at her. “Damn it, Penelope! I told you not to love me!”
“Since when have I done what you told me?”
He grunted.
Undeterred, she translated his grunt. “That’s right. Never. And I’m not about to start now, especially when your orders are so contrary to both our best interests.”
Emitting an incredulous snort, he swiveled his revolving desk chair around until his back was to her. “Oh, and since when is it in a woman’s best interest to shackle herself to a madman?” he growled, pulling yet another cigar from the box. “Seems to me that that’s a sure way for her to waste her life.”
It was Penelope’s turn to snort. Enough was enough. And she’d had enough of Seth Tyler’s mule-brained postulating! Not certain whether she intended to kiss him or slap him, she grasped the back of his chair and spun him back around to face her. Before he could protest, she sat on his lap straddling his knees and pulled the cigar from his lips. Bracing her hands on either side of his head to force him to look at her, she exclaimed:
“Now, see here, Seth. You’re going to listen, and listen good. I love you, and by your own admission you love me, too. It seems to me that if we can love each other after all the hurtful things we’ve said and done, then we’re destined to be together.”
Making a noise that perfectly articulated his skepticism, Seth tried to look away, but she refused to let him. “Stop being a fool! Love like ours isn’t something you can sweep under the carpet and pretend doesn’t exist. It only gets stronger with time, more insistent with denial.”
“Penelope—” he began.
She laid a finger over his lips, silencing him. “No. I know what you’re going to say. You’re going to tell me that you won’t allow me to waste my life loving a madman.” She shook her head. “But don’t you see? I can’t help loving you. And by denying me the fulfillment of expressing that love, my life is nothing but an accumulation of empty, fruitless hours spent yearning for you. It will never be anything more. Not as long as we’re apart.”
Seth moaned and closed his eyes, but not before Penelope saw the conflicting emotion warring in their pain-darkened depths.
Determined to turn the tide of his inner battle to her advantage and thus win their war of wills, she twined her arms around his neck, pleading softly, “Please, Seth. Don’t make me waste another moment. Let me fill my hours with the satisfaction of loving you. Let me fill yours with the warmth and security of being cherished. It’s not too late for us. We can still make a wonderful life together.”
“Please,” he implored, the emotional texture of his hoarse voice a heartbreaking weave of torment, grief, and longing. “Please don’t do this to me. I can’t bear it.”
Relentless now, for in her heart she knew this might be her last chance, Penelope gambled on a desperate hunch. “Then, look me in the eye and tell me that you don’t want me.” She pressed her face so close to his that their now rapid breath collided and mingled. “Say you no longer care for me. Do that, and I’ll never again bother you with my feelings.”
For what seemed like forever, he sat motionless. Then his lashes lifted, revealing eyes as empty as those of a dead man. His expression not betraying even a flicker of emotion, he disengaged her arms from his neck and pushed her away. After impassively surveying her from head to toe, he looked her straight in the eye.
Penelope’s soul cried out in anguish as she waited for him to utter the words that would destroy their future. She’d been so certain of his feelings for her, so confident that her love could defeat his terrible fears. But it was apparent she was wrong.
Flexing his jaw into a hard line, he began, “I don’t want you and”—his mask of composure crumbled then, and he choked.
“Seth?” she whispered, freeing her arms from his slackening grasp to take his face in her hands. He looked awful. Misery so raw and intense contorted his features, that it was all she could do not to weep at the sight of his suffering.
“I can’t. God forgive me, I can’t say it. I love you,” he groaned. “I love you so damn much that I wish I’d hurry up and lose my mind so I can escape this hell of wanting you.”
“But what if you don’t go mad? You’ll have thrown away our happiness for nothing,” she argued, her hope reaffirmed by his words. “So why not wager on love instead of doom? I’m willing to gamble on us. Won’t you do the same?” Her voice dropped now, becoming soft, beseeching. “Please, Seth. Give our love a chance. You won’t lose, no matter what happens. I promise.”
“I want to love you … more than anything else in the world.” His voice was broken, quivering with anguish. “But I … I’m … afraid.” A tear escaped with that confession, followed by another, and yet another. “I … I …” His speech faltered then, and when he was finally able to continue, his voice was little more than a ragged whisper. “Help me … please. Help me find the courage to believe in our dreams.”
The sight of Seth, always so strong and self-assured, defeated and crying for help hurt Penelope almost beyond bearing. Yet she knew that as wrenching as this moment was for them both, that it was only through this purging of his fears he could find the peace that would allow him to at last accept her love.
Desperate to give him what little ease she could during the painful process, she leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to his tear-salted lips. “I’m here, love, and of course I’ll help you. I’ll always be here when you need me,” she crooned, wrapping her arms around his trembling torso to hold him close. Gently, so as not to hurt his scalp wound, she pulled his head down on her shoulder and began to stroke his hair. “There now, darling. Go ahead and cry. You’ve held it in for too long.”
With a choked sound that seemed ripped from the bottom of his soul, Seth broke completely. Crushing her into his needy embrace, he buried his face against her neck and released his maelstrom of pent-up emotion.
Great heaving sobs ripped from his chest, eloquently articulating the dark hopelessness shadowing his soul. His hot tears, falling against her bare shoulder like summer rain, spoke of a torment almost beyond salvation. His convulsive kneading, his every strangled gasp, told of a despair too deep for words.
For a long while Penelope simply held him, stroking his hair while whispering of her dreams for their future, promising him forever. Beneath the caressing comfort of her hands and voice, the savage fury of his weeping gradually abated and ceased. Then she, too, fell silent. Lost in the emotional aftermath of the moment, they sat slumped in each other’s arms; he, physically drained yet spiritually strengthened; she, sending up prayers of thanks for giving her this second chance at loving Seth; both feeling as if they’d come home at last.
They remained like that until Penelope felt Seth’s head move against her shoulder and heard him heave a faint sigh. “Better, love?” she murmured, kissing the back of his bowed neck.
He nodded and raised his head, grinning sheepishly as he rubbed at his red eyes. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to carry on like that. I haven’t cried in over thirty years.”
Never had he looked more vulnerable; never had he been dearer to her heart. Smiling her reassurance, Penelope caressed his tear-ravaged cheek. “You should do it more often. I’ve found that nothing cleanses the sou
l better than a good cry.”
He sniffled noisily. “If you’ll hold me like this, I just might do that.”
“You’ve got yourself a bargain, Mr. Tyler. I stand ready to hold you anytime you need me,” she declared, fumbling in his waistcoat pocket to withdraw his handkerchief.
“The way I’ve felt lately, I’m probably going to be spending a lot of time in your arms. Are you sure you want to waste your time coddling a blubbering, sorry excuse for a man?”
“It’s not a waste of time, and you’re not a sorry excuse for a man. In my book, it takes a mighty courageous man to admit and face his fears. And I feel privileged that you’re allowing me to help you conquer them.” With that, she lifted his handkerchief to his nose and commanded, “Blow.” He complied, loudly. “Good.” She kissed his forehead and then tossed the now crumpled handkerchief onto the desk. “Now. Do you feel up to talking?”
“Depends.”
“On what?”
The gleam in his bloodshot eyes was almost wicked. “On whether or not you’ll remain on my lap. I might need to be held again, you know. And I don’t want you too far away.”
It was all Penelope could do not to wrap her arms around him and give him a fierce hug. Here was the sweet, loving Seth she remembered and adored. However, since she didn’t want to hurt his broken rib, she satisfied herself by giving him a quick peck on his lips. “You couldn’t make me move even if you wanted to.”
“Good. Because I wasn’t going to let you go.” He tipped his head down and returned her kiss. “Now. What shall we talk about?”
“Us and our future, for starters.” She waited breathlessly, expecting to see uncertainty shadow his eyes at the mention of the future. But he merely nodded, his expression untroubled.
Exhaling her relief, she began, “I want us to be together, of course. All the time and in every way.” She paused a beat, half expecting him to protest. When he didn’t, she continued, “You don’t have to marry me if you don’t feel comfortable doing so. I’ll be perfectly happy living with you as your—”
“Don’t even say the word,” he interjected sharply. “You’ll marry me, and do it in front of all our friends and neighbors. If we’re going to gamble on our future, we’re going to gamble big.”
Penelope stared up at him, too choked with joy to speak.
Raising one eyebrow in query at her silence, Seth asked, “That is, if you’ll have me.”
“Have you? Of course I will! I love you!” Giddy with excitement, she recklessly threw herself against him and gave him the hug she’d so scrupulously avoided only moments earlier.
He smiled, wincing slightly. “If you love me, then kiss me.”
Penelope didn’t need any further prompting. Looping her arms around his neck, she pulled his face close to hers. She wanted this kiss to be special, to be as tender and memorable as their first one. Not quite certain how to make it so, yet determined to try, she closed her eyes and drew his mouth to hers.
Just like the first time, and every time thereafter when their lips touched, there was a feeling of rightness, a bonding as if each had been created for the specific purpose of loving the other. As if he, too, felt the draw of destiny and was overpowered by it, Seth crushed her to his chest, his mouth moving hungrily against hers. Boldly he thrust his tongue between her lips, probing and plundering her mouth. With every responsive move, Penelope’s tension from wanting him mounted until she was feverish with anticipation.
Panting harshly, his whole body trembling with the power of his emotions, Seth at last dragged his lips from hers. “Dear God,” he groaned, staring at her as if he couldn’t quite believe she was real. “I dreamed and wished, but I never really believed that I’d have you in my arms again. I’m half-afraid you’re some mad delusion and will vanish at any moment.”
“Then, love me and reassure yourself that I’m real,” she murmured, melting against him with a sigh.
Enslaving both her heart and mind with the seductive tenderness in his eyes, he buried his hands into her curls and pulled out the pins. When her hair fell tumbling down her back, he gently combed his fingers through its length.
As he twisted the end of one jet ringlet around his finger, he murmured huskily, “Many a night I lay awake imagining doing this. Sometimes I get so worked up picturing you naked amid all this tangled glory, that I ache till dawn.” He glanced up from his coiled handiwork, grinning wryly. “It’s a wonder I haven’t been driven stark-raving mad by my unrelieved lust.”
Thrilled by his confession, yet too embarrassed to tell him so, Penelope assumed the formidable air of her childhood nanny and playfully scolded, “Well, you’re not to carelessly risk your sanity like that again.” She wagged a reproving finger beneath his nose. “The second you feel even the slightest ache, you’re to come directly to me and let me take care of it. Understood?”
Seth laughed and kissed her scowling lips. “Perfectly.”
Still pretending, she leaned back and fixed the enormous bulge at his groin with a look of mock disapproval. “What is this, young man?” She poked the bulge with an accusing finger, almost giggling when he jumped and gasped in response. “Shouldn’t you have brought this problem to my attention sooner?”
He tried to look properly contrite, but a chuckle slipped out, spoiling the whole effect. “I promise I will in the future.”
He looked so endearingly roguish with his battered face and crooked grin, that a smile stole to her own lips as she began to unbutton his black brocade waistcoat.
“Since you’re in such a desperate state, my boy,” nanny Penelope continued, “we’ll let your shameful lapse pass. But just this once. Understood?”
“It won’t happen again,” he promised, his eyes dancing with devilry. “So what do we do now that I’m forgiven?”
“I think the most important matter right now is to get you out of your clothes and get to work on relieving your lust.” Giving him an un-nanny-like leer, she removed his waistcoat and tossed it to the floor, then pulled out his diamond shirt studs.
“You know,” he murmured as she began yanking his shirttail from his trousers. “An important part of this lust-relieving business is that the lustee divest the reliever of her clothes.”
Nanny was back. “Patience, young man,” she admonished sternly, pulling him forward so she could slide off his shirt. After discarding the garment, she pushed him back in his chair to admire his masculine beauty.
His shoulders were wide and powerful, his chest broad with each muscular contour perfectly delineated by hard, sculpted bulges and deep, shadowed grooves. Though the bandage bracing his ribs covered much of his midsection, it couldn’t disguise the spectacular taper of his torso.
Filled with breathless awe, Penelope let her appreciative gaze trace the dramatic curve, down the steeply narrowing line from his expansive chest to the sinewy leanness of his waist, stopping only when she came to the top of his trousers.
Staring hungrily at the black fabric, she gently traced the edge of his waistband with her finger, visualizing the rippling grid of belly muscle she knew lay beneath. When she could bear the anticipation no longer, she reached for his buttons.
With an agonized groan, Seth caught her fingers. He, too, was beyond bearing. So much so, that he knew if she opened his trousers and touched him now, his passion would explode. And he’d dreamed of this moment too long to let it end in such disgrace.
Ignoring her moue of protest, he drew her fingers to his lips to kiss them. “Oh, no, my greedy princess. Not yet. There are certain rules to be observed in this lust-relieving business. One of which is that both lustee and reliever get equal time admiring the other’s body. Now, since this is usually done in stages so as not to drive the lustee into a state of premature madness, I suggest that I take a turn and remove your bodice now.” Hopefully the tedious task of unfastening all those hooks would give him a chance to regain some of his now almost nonexistent control.
Penelope stared at him through the thick fring
e of her lowered lashes as if considering his proposal, then nodded.
Gingerly Seth pulled her against him. Ignoring the way her soft cleavage seemed to burn his chest skin, he pushed her hair aside and began to fumble with the fastenings at the back of her bodice. As he’d hoped, by the time he clumsily wrestled the last hook free, his frustration had pushed his need back to a manageable level.
More in command now, he tilted his head down and gave Penelope’s rosy earlobe a soft nip. He felt rather than heard her moan against his chest. “Sweetheart,” he whispered. “You need to sit back now so I can remove your bodice.”
With a purring sigh, she complied.
Never had she looked more desirable than she did now, wantonly straddling his knees with her bodice sagging off one shoulder and her unbound hair tumbling around her passion-flushed face. She was staring at him with such adoration, such undisguised longing, that Seth had to grasp the edge of his chair to keep from ripping himself from his trousers and taking her where they sat.
As if sensing his precarious state and eager to incite him to action, Penelope removed her bodice herself. Her motions slow and teasing, she slipped one arm out of its tiny puffed sleeve, then the other, holding the bodice in place the whole time so as not to give him the briefest peek at her hidden delights.
When he responded simply by gawking like a lust-besotted fool, which is exactly what he was at that moment, she gave the frilly bodice a tempting wave. “Rules are rules, and you said that it’s the lustee’s job to disrobe the reliever.” She lowered her violet and ivory silk shield a fraction to give him a titillating glimpse of her décolletage. “Unless you haven’t the constitution for the task?”
The teasing challenge in her voice snapped Seth out of his moonstruck stupor. Growling in reply, he snatched the bodice from her hands and tossed it aside. His bold growl faded to a whimper of defeat. God help him! How was he supposed to look at such feminine perfection and still maintain himself?
Tomorrow's Dreams Page 30