The Girl From Summer Hill

by Jude Deveraux

  When she looked at him, he wore the most genuine expression of emotion she’d seen on his face. No acting, no trying to entertain, no teasing. Neither was there a sense of protecting himself. He was open and vulnerable—to her.

  It was easy to see what was in his mind. He was waiting for her answer.

  Scenes from the last few days flashed through her mind: his anger because she’d spied on him while he showered; how he’d sat quietly while she bawled him out for eating a whole pie. When he’d first stepped onto the stage and seen her dressed as Elizabeth Bennet, a light had come into his eyes. He’d been glad to see her. Later, he’d held her life in his hands as she dangled down on a steep roof. Most of all, she remembered how many times he’d made her laugh. He’d even made her feel better about Ben. For months all she’d felt was guilt. How could she have been so insensitive to a man she loved? But Tate had made her see a different side of it all.

  When she gazed up at him with a smile of welcome, he grinned in understanding—and in such deep happiness that she laughed.

  He peeled off his wet T-shirt and flung it to the side. The candlelight played off the muscles of his body, and for a moment he stood there looking down at her.

  She expected him to pounce on her, but he didn’t. Instead, he stretched out beside her on the pillows, barely touching her. She’d braced herself for an electrical shock, but there was none. Instead, her body seemed to hum.

  He reached out to run his fingertips down her cheek. “You’re a very pretty girl,” he said, his voice low and husky.

  Her heart was beginning to beat faster. “You see starlets and—”

  He pressed his lips to her temple. “You’re prettier, and I like you. Big difference.”

  She started to reply, but he began to kiss the side of her face. Her eyes closed as she gave herself over to the pleasure of his lips and his skin pressing against hers. He kissed her eyelids, then slowly moved down toward her mouth.

  His lips touched hers, softly at first.

  The gentleness slowly deepened so that her mouth opened under his and she felt his tongue. Her arms went around him, her hands on his warm skin, caressing the hardness of the muscles beneath.

  The humming inside her seemed to increase.

  Tate drew back to look at her. “Feel that?”

  “I do,” she said.

  His lips moved to her chin, down to her neck. It was only as he reached her throat that she realized he’d unbuttoned her shirt. He easily slipped it off her shoulders. Her bra came next, and when he pulled her bare chest to his, she gasped. Her skin was cool from the rain, but his was warm to the point of being feverishly hot.

  His face was in her neck, kissing, his tongue touching the sensuous cords. His hand moved up her ribs, his thumbs caressing her breasts.

  “I’ve wanted you since I saw you in those pajamas.”

  “You yelled at me.”

  “It was either that or throw you across the kitchen table.”

  “Too bad I wasn’t given a choice.”

  When Tate laughed, she could feel it all over her body. “Not you,” he whispered. “You hold yourself in too high esteem for that.”

  “Do I?”

  Casey leaned her head back. His lips moved down to her breast. With his tongue on the tip, the humming that ran through her body grew too loud for her to remember words. All she was aware of was this man and this moment.

  She wasn’t sure how it happened, but all their clothes came off. When their nude bodies touched, she thought she might die if he didn’t come to her completely.

  But he didn’t. He continued to kiss her, to touch her, until it was as though her very soul left her. She was all sensation, all desire.

  She ran her hands over his body, caressing each muscle and its contours.

  His hands moved down between her legs and parted them. When he moved on top of her, she was more than ready for him, and he slipped inside her with velvet ease.

  Tate took his time, slowly building, his strokes gradually increasing in strength and speed. His breath was by her ear. She could hear him, feel him, sense him, smell him.

  When he came, she was ready for him, and her release went through her entire body. Waves of pleasure passed through her, making her body convulse.

  Tate held her close to him, not moving off her, and the weight felt good. The hardness of his taut, muscular body was a perfect contrast to her softness.

  It was a while before he rolled away and pulled her over so her head rested on his chest. “I wasn’t prepared for this, so maybe we should talk about my lack of protection.”

  “Pill,” she murmured. Right now she didn’t want anything to ruin this magic moment.

  He kissed her forehead and snuggled her to him, her leg across his. The rain kept coming down, isolating them. When it grew cool, Tate pulled an old lap robe across them, and when the dust flew up, they coughed and laughed, but they didn’t detach from each other.

  “I want to thank you,” Tate said softly, his voice barely a whisper.

  “For this?”

  “No, but yes. Thank you for taking my mind off my…my fear of seeing this place.” He paused before continuing. “Nina and I kept track of Tattwell since we were kids. We knew it changed hands twice after my mother had to sell it, and both times the owners wanted to subdivide the land and put in mass housing. The town of Summer Hill fought them and won. But the place was virtually abandoned for about ten years.”

  “Why didn’t you want to see it?”

  “My goal had always been to make enough money acting to buy it and present it to Mom as a gift, but she died before I could afford it. I felt guilty and…” He shrugged. “I told Nina there were too many memories attached to the place and that I didn’t want to be taken back to the stories of the past. Or I didn’t want the press to find out. Whatever. I came up with a thousand excuses. But then one day Kit Montgomery showed up at my trailer on set and told me we were related. Nina said that it was fate that Kit had shown up, so I could buy Tattwell through him without the press knowing.”

  “Maybe it was fate.”

  “Nah. It was Kit’s secretary. Someone in Kit’s family works on genealogy and found out that we’re related. When he made an offhand comment to that fact, his secretary said that if he didn’t get her an autographed photo of me she was going to quit.”

  “Did you give it?”

  “Of course. Kit and I spent a weekend drinking and bellyaching about relatives and employees. When I got sober—which took a while, as that man can drink!—I went to his office in D.C. and had photos taken with everyone. And…”

  “And what?”

  “I had a friend, an assistant director, who I’d told Kit about, and he said I should bring him. Kit arranged a blind date with my friend and the secretary’s widowed daughter. They’re married now and expecting their first child.”

  She looked up at him. “That’s a wonderful story. Was the matchmaking your idea or Kit’s?”

  “His. He likes to manage people’s lives.”

  “Like yours? And mine?”

  “Exactly. But this time I like it. How did you meet him?”

  “I opened the back of my car. I was—”

  “Wait,” Tate said. “I think this story calls for pie.”

  When he moved away from her, Casey sat up to watch. Although he was totally nude, he didn’t seem the least bit shy or inhibited. As for her, she held the dusty old lap robe under her arms.

  Tate got the pie carrier and the spoon, then moved back to snuggle beside Casey. He opened it, scooped a huge spoonful from the middle, held it out to her, and she took a bite.

  “You do know, don’t you, that pies are usually sliced and served on plates.”

  “I used to think so too. But then I fought a mad beast in a girl’s bedroom, and later I ravenously dug a spoon into a pie so good it must have been made in heaven. Then a very pretty girl yelled at me, and all I could think of was that her cheeks were pink and every part of her bod
y was bouncing, so I changed my mind. Since then I’ve liked pies and spoons. Brings back good memories.”

  Casey blinked a few times. “In that case, I understand.” He fed her another bite. “Back to Kit. Remember I told you that I packed up everything and drove to Summer Hill? In my case, that meant one suitcase full of clothes and the rest of my car packed solid with cookware and cookbooks.”

  “You could have shipped it all. No! Let me guess. You feared that it would be lost. Too precious to trust to strangers in big trucks.”

  “Exactly. But it was all a bit much for my little car, because when I parked in front of the local B&B and opened the back, a lot of things came tumbling out. The owner of the inn helped me repack, then she made a call, and ten minutes later Kit was there.”

  “Then what?”

  “He looked inside the open back of my car and hired me as his cook, without my having so much as made a biscuit. The next day he put me in the guesthouse on an old plantation I thought he owned. Over the winter he introduced me to half the town and used Stacy and me as readers for a play he was writing.”

  “All while planning to have you perform as Elizabeth.”

  “Maybe. I’m not sure about that. That all seems to have just happened. My guess is he wanted you and Stacy together. But then, he also wanted Stacy for his son.”

  “At least we agree that Kit was up to something.”

  They had eaten half the pie. Tate licked a tiny bit of chocolate-tipped pecan off the side of her mouth, then kissed her. He seemed about ready to do more, but his head came up. “Treasure.”

  “I agree,” Casey murmured, her eyes half closed.

  Tate sat up straighter. “Mom used to talk about the treasure box she and Ace put things in. She never said where they kept the box hidden, but this was their hideout, so maybe it’s in here somewhere.” He picked up Casey’s hand and was kissing her fingertips. “Put on a child’s thinking cap. Where would you hide a treasure box?”

  “I think you already found it,” she murmured.

  He turned his attention back to her and his voice lowered. “I don’t think so. I’d better keep searching.”

  Casey slid down on the pillows and he took her in his arms.

  It was nearly an hour later that they flopped back on the pillows, sweaty and sated. Above them, the rain had stopped and the candle had burned to a nub.

  “Weren’t we looking for something?” Tate asked.

  “Trust me. You found it.”

  “Did I?” He turned on his side to face her, picked up a strand of her hair, and held it up to the light. “I’ve always liked red hair.”

  “When I was a kid, it was much redder and I wanted to dye it.”

  “Speaking of red, what is that?”

  Turning, she looked at the wall. Their energetic lovemaking had knocked loose a piece of wood that covered a little opening. Tate reached over her and pulled out a metal candy box. It was red on the sides, the top painted with a scene of a peacock with its tail in full flourish.

  “Maybe it contains a recipe for peacock pie,” Tate said enthusiastically as he set the box on the cushion between them.

  When he put his hand on the lid, Casey covered it with her own. “Are you sure you want to see what’s inside? This box probably belonged to your mother.”

  He met her eyes. “You know, I think being here, where my mother was so very happy, and with you treating me like a real person, is healing me.”

  “That’s a very nice thing to say. Thank you.”

  “But again, it might be your pies that are doing the most damage repair.”

  Laughing, Casey removed her hand.

  Tate got up to get what was left of the candle and set it by them. It was lighter outside now and they could see.

  Inside the box were little things that would fascinate children. There was a silver tiger’s head that looked to have been broken off an old cane. Tate held up a strange dried-up item.

  “Chicken claw,” Casey said, and he set it aside.

  There were three marbles with gold-colored centers, two silver dollars dated 1910, and a long bullet in a brass casing.

  “M-One, World War Two,” Tate said.

  “Learn that from a movie?”

  “Yeah. I died from one of those. But it was in the arms of a woman I loved, so it was okay.”

  “Did you love her? I mean the actress.”

  “For the first half of the movie, I made an effort to. In the second half I found her in the director’s trailer. Funny how quickly love can disappear at the sight of legs in the air.”

  “Or being told your boyfriend is dating his paralegal and he likes her. I took that to mean that he’d never actually liked me.” She pulled out three matchbook covers from the box. They were from local businesses that no longer existed.

  “I’m sorry he took his inadequacies out on you.”

  “I should have—”

  He leaned across the box and kissed her. “Don’t say that. You were working hard. You did nothing wrong.” He smiled. “On the other hand, I’m glad he was such a douchebag. If he hadn’t been, you wouldn’t be here with me now.”

  “To share an afternoon of truly wonderful sex?”

  “Thanks, but that’s not what I meant,” he said. “I was talking about outside of here. I dreaded coming to Tattwell, but you’ve made it a joy.”

  She kissed him in thanks, then looked back at the box. “What’s this?” She held up a scrap of black velvet, so old the fuzz was mostly gone. “Something’s inside it.” Slowly, she opened the fabric. Inside was a ring that appeared to be an antique. It was white gold, with a large round clear stone surrounded by cutwork and tiny brilliants.

  When she held it up to the light, it flashed and sparkled. “This looks real.”

  “I think it might be.”

  “We have to find the owner of this ring.” Even as she said it, she knew it was a ridiculous statement. “Wonder how long it’s been in here?”

  “Thirty, forty years, something like that.”

  Casey was peering inside the ring’s band. There was no engraving. “Why did your mother’s family stop coming?”

  “My grandparents taught school, so they had summers free and came here to work for Uncle Freddy. But the winter my mom turned ten, Granddad got a job in California as an engineer in a shipbuilding plant. It was a year-round job.”

  “Did they visit Uncle Freddy?”

  “Once or twice, but not often.”

  “Poor man. He must have missed them very much.”

  “I guess so, because when he died, he left everything to Mom. She never told me about it, but one time I heard her on the phone saying that Uncle Freddy’s brother and the other relatives were so angry she thought they might hire a hit man to go after her.”

  “So why didn’t they buy the place from her?”

  “My guess is that they wanted it for free, not to have to pay for it. What’s your extended family like?”

  “Don’t have one,” she said. “Mom was an only child, and her parents died long before I was born. She was forty-three when she had me.”

  “And that’s why she used a donor.” He smiled. “You must have been a much-wanted child.”

  “Yeah, I guess so. Sometimes I envied other kids having fathers, but you make the best you can out of what you have.”

  “I agree,” he said.

  When they looked into each other’s eyes, understanding passed between them. Their childhoods had been alike, with single mothers struggling to do the best they could. And by necessity, both children had grown up quickly. When Tate was just a kid, he’d looked for ways to help support his family. Casey, instead of complaining about her mother being gone so much, had figured out a way to make her time alone into something educational and fun.

  Neither of them had had the childhood luxury of a world that revolved around them. Casey’d had to adjust to no father and a mother who was rarely there. Tate had dealt with the death of his father and the adult pr
oblem of putting food on the table.

  “You should have this,” Tate said. There was a black lanyard in the box with a plastic ornament on it. Tate slipped the ornament off and put the ring on the cord, then hung it around Casey’s neck.

  “I can’t take it.” But even as she said it, her hand closed over the ring. It was quite beautiful.

  “Think of it as a gift from Letty and Ace. They hid it away, just waiting for us to find it.”

  “I bet whoever they stole it from wasn’t very happy about it.”

  “I wonder why Mom never told me a story about the ring. I think that if she knew who it belonged to, she would have returned it. Do you have any idea what time it is?”

  “Noon maybe?”

  Tate groaned. “I have to go. That trainer they sent came through the doors of hell. If I’m not there soon, he’ll send a SWAT team after me.”

  “I’m on his side.”

  “What?” Tate frowned so hard his eyebrows met, then he understood. “Yeah?” He flexed his biceps. “You don’t think I’m getting too bulky?”

  Smiling, Casey set the box aside and opened her arms to him. “I think you’re just right.”

  They made love again, this time very slowly. The only thing they had on was the ring around Casey’s neck.

  “From the first day, I’ve wanted to give you a ring,” he whispered, but Casey was sure she’d misheard him.

  Afterward, they reluctantly put their damp clothes back on and slithered out through the tunnel under the fierce blackberry bushes. Standing outside like an angry guard, was the peacock. This time, instead of ignoring them, he gave a very loud screech of protest. Casey thought it sounded almost like the cry of a human in distress. Hearing it from only a few inches away was nearly enough to injure her eardrums.

  At the deafening sound, Casey jumped back, and for a second Tate put his body protectively in front of hers.

  But he couldn’t resist an opportunity for drama. He leaped behind her, hands on her shoulders, and ducked his head. It was as though he were terrified and using her as a shield.

  “Come on, Ace,” she said in a deep voice. “You know I’m wearing the magic ring so no one can hurt us. Now stand up straight and tall and face your fears.”