Reckless
Page 22
Yet his tongue seemed to thrust deep into the core and essence of her being, and stopping was an impossibility.
And his hands were moving. She was still caught to his hard body, but his fingers caressed the length of her hair, teased along her shoulders, stroked her collarbone beneath the neckline of the robe. Brushed her flesh. A touch so light, she ached to feel it further, to know it better.
The robe parted, and the touch, so gentle, grew bolder, yet still at such a subtle tease that she ached to feel more of it. Then his fingers rounded over the swell of her breast, and thumbs played erotically on her nipples before he cupped the weight of them again. She was barely aware when his lips left hers, when they followed the trail of magic down her throat, pressed at her collarbone, formed over her breast, above and below, so erotic, his tongue then taunting, teasing, playing, where his fingertips had tread so lightly.
She gasped softly, fingers digging into his arms, body trembling throughout its length. She wasn’t sure when the robe fell away, and she was barely aware that she was standing naked, that he had lowered himself, that his hands molded her buttocks and that his kiss then teased the flesh of her abdomen.
She could scarcely stand. It was an intoxication she had never imagined, never expected, and it felt simply as if she were on fire, seething….
And then, abruptly, he stood, bringing her robe with him and setting it loosely around her shoulders. “Miss Adair, either I am a better lover, or…”
It was the tone of the or. The implication. She flushed with humiliation, not even the great Hunter MacDonald could respond swiftly enough to stop her hand.
The slap of its impact against his cheek was loud, seeming to echo between them. He arched a brow.
“Since you do seem to run into the Right Honorable David Turnberry and accidents of the absurd at every turn,” he said, “I believe you should stay in tonight—my dear.” And he left her standing there by the mantel, the luxurious robe that had given her such pleasure falling off her shoulders.
HIS BONES SEEMED TO HURT, his blood to boil, his muscles to burn, and there was nothing else to do but leave, escape, run away as fast as he could. He was furious with himself, furious with her, and so knotted and torn within that he was certain he would shortly explode.
He walked out to the street, down the Via Veneto, then walked and walked, and the next thing he knew, he was at the Spanish Steps. And he still kept walking.
At the next piazza, he noticed that one of the old, beautiful churches had a sign out front. “St. Philip’s High Episcopal Church.”
Interesting, he mused. The hordes of Englishmen and Americans had brought one Anglican house of worship to the very place of the pope’s stronghold. As he walked by, a priest came hurrying out, preoccupied. He walked into Hunter.
“Scusi, scusi!”
“It’s all right, Father.”
The priest looked at him, frowned. “An Englishman.”
“Yes.”
“And you look in need of guidance.”
Hunter shook his head. “I’m afraid guidance is not what I need at this moment.”
The priest cocked his head. “You’re Sir Hunter MacDonald.”
“Yes. How did you know?”
“I’ve seen your picture in the papers. On your way to Egypt, are you, sir?”
“Yes.”
“You look heavy laden. Confession is good for the soul, even though we be Anglicans.”
“I think not, but I appreciate the offer.”
The fellow offered his hand. “Father Philbin. Should you need anything, the rectory is the old building there.” He pointed. “Say, even if you just wish a good pot of English tea, don’t hesitate.”
“Thank you, Father,” Hunter said, and moved on. He was certain that in his current surly mood, no priest would want to hear anything he had to say. His long strides ate up the distance. Finally, at last, he stopped at a café, ordered a drink and took a seat at one of the sidewalk tables.
He had gone mad, he thought. He had simply gone mad. And now, with his blood cooling, he turned a bitter smile on himself. The situation with Kat was, truly, no less than he deserved, and if he was a madman now, well, the madness had begun the first moment he had seen her, and the insanity had grown slowly on a daily basis, especially since he had decided that he would give her every opportunity to go after what she wanted…
And what she wanted wasn’t him. But she was as passionate and fierce as her fiery hair promised, and he could have completed what he’d started, seduced her, had all that he desired and won the game he hadn’t even realized that he was playing.
And been no better than the college boys he mocked.
“Senor?”
He looked up. Ah, one of Rome’s illustrious ladies of the night. More courtesan than prostitute, for she was elegantly dressed and her jewels looked real. She was young, he thought, but practiced. “Per piacere…Oh! Mi dispiace—you are Inglese!”
He nodded. How easy to smile, he thought, purchase drinks, bargain delicately and with innuendo, as one did with such a creature. How easy to drown oneself in alcohol, walk into the darkness, where one could with the mind’s eye only.
“Yes, an Englishman, signorina.”
She pouted, made the usual pretense at respectability. “I’m awaiting a friend. I thought I might join you at your table as I do so.” Her eyes were endlessly dark, her hair lustrous, her lips colored a pure bloodred. She smiled, a pleasant smile, assessing him all the while, he thought, and determining that he would not be a bad trick at all, for he was assuredly with funds and possessed of all his teeth.
For a moment, he entertained the idea. Good God, if only not to feel so wretchedly frustrated!
But then something caused him to shake his head. “I should be happy to buy you a drink, and most assuredly, the table is yours. But I’m afraid I have to be going.”
He rose, signaling to the waiter, drawing bills from his wallet.
“Must you leave, truly?” she implored.
Darkness would do him no good, he thought. Nothing could still what lay behind the facade.
“Yes, I must go,” he said. He left the money and began his walk back. A long one, but reflexive.
The hotel was quiet when he returned, and he realized that the hour was very late. Nevertheless, he tapped on her door, ready to apologize.
The door swung open. She was clad to the throat in the most virginal nightgown imaginable, and over it was a concealing cotton robe.
“What?” she said.
“We’ll be boarding the train around ten in the morning.”
“I’m quite aware of that.”
“As long as you are aware.”
She closed the door in his face. He took a deep breath, tapped again.
The door flew open.
“I need to say—”
“No!” She was clearly furious. “There’s nothing you need to say that I care to hear. You are the most despicable excuse for a human being ever to crawl up from the slime, and I loathe you, do you understand? The engagement can be off as of tomorrow!”
She was ready to slam the door again. He caught her arm, backing her into the room. Despite his plan to be a gentleman, he was glad at the alarm he saw in her eyes.
“No. I entered into this fiasco of a charade because you appeared in my bedroom—pleading! It does not end, and you will cope with what has occurred and learn from it!”
She glared at him, jaw locked, struggling to wrench free her arm.
It was then that he felt something odd, something that seemed to move over his feet. He went rigid, hardly daring to breathe.
“I—” she began.
“Shh!” he warned.
“But—”
“Stop, don’t move. I beg of you.”
He didn’t look down. He simply knew.
It had passed him and was moving toward her. Her ankles and feet were bare.
She felt it when it touched her. Her eyes widened. Her lips parted jus
t slightly. And she locked gazes with Hunter, fighting the urge to scream.
“Still,” he mouthed. “Be still.”
And so she was. Seconds seemed like eons.
She mouthed a single word to him, a question. “Snake?”
He nodded.
She swallowed hard, her eyes locked with his. Waiting.
More eons passed. And then, from the corner of his eyes, he could see the creature, slithering on across the room. He caught her up, swung her round, and made her stand on a chair. Then he strode toward the snake.
Snakes were certainly some of the quickest creatures he had come across in his life, but at least he had come to know them well. His feet were encased in leather, and he dared to slam his foot down hard right behind the head of the creature. He did so with all his weight and strength; a snake was powerful, sheer muscle, and if he didn’t strike properly…
But he had. The creature couldn’t rise, couldn’t flare. It tried to open its jaw for an attack. The mouth worked. The eyes glazed. But then it died, the jaws still attempting to part.
“Oh!” He heard the expulsion of her breath.
She was about to climb down off the chair when he ordered, “No! Stay right there!” Silently, she obeyed.
Then, methodically, foot by foot, he went through the room. He tore through the bath things, towels, linens, soaps. At last, satisfied, he extended a hand to help her down from the chair, then they sat together on the foot of the bed. He didn’t touch her.
She nodded to the place across the room. “It’s…a cobra?” she asked. “But…we’re still in Rome. Do they have such creatures here?”
He looked up at her. “No.”
“Then…” Her voice faded. After a moment she said, “Brian Stirling’s parents…were killed by asps, weren’t they?”
She was trying very hard to sound matter-of-fact. There was a tremor in her voice nonetheless.
“Yes.”
“But…the killer was discovered.”
“Yes.”
“So…you think that someone might be trying to…kill me? Why?”
“I don’t know.”
There was suddenly a firm knock at the door. Hunter got up, walked to open it.
In nightcap and robe, Lord Avery stood there, managing to look dignified and outraged despite his attire.
“Sir Hunter!” he said, his tone regal in its condemnation. “This, sir, this, I will not allow! The child’s father has entrusted her to my care. You may have announced an engagement, sir, but that gives you no right—”
“Lord Avery, there was a snake in the room,” Hunter explained.
“Bah! There are no snakes in such a fine hotel. Besides, this is Rome, not Cairo!”
Hunter walked over to the corpse of the asp, picked it up gingerly and presented it to Lord Avery. Lord Avery paled. “It…it should not be here,” he sputtered.
“No,” Hunter agreed.
“Why, Brian’s father and mother…”
“Yes,” Hunter said. “Lord Avery, I would deeply appreciate that you do not mention this to anyone.”
“Sir Hunter! The only way a snake could have been in this room…”
“Yes.”
“Then the girl is in danger!”
“I rather believe that,” Hunter said.
“Excuse me!” Kat said softly. “I am here, and I am not deaf!”
Lord Avery turned to stare at Kat. “Forgive me, my dear.” Then he looked at Hunter again. Lord Avery was simply not from a generation when young women made decisions on their own. “She must be sent packing on the first train home.”
“No!” Kat protested.
Hunter didn’t so much as look her way. He smiled at Lord Avery. “Let’s sleep on it, shall we?” he asked. “There is little we can do right now.”
“We should be calling the police!”
Hunter shook his head. “The police will not be able to solve this, and we both know it. There is nothing more we can do tonight.”
“The situation must be handled,” Lord Avery insisted.
“And so it shall be,” Hunter promised.
At last, Lord Avery harrumphed and went out into the hall. Hunter closed the door behind him and leaned against it for a moment, then straightened. “Get dressed,” he told Kat.
“Get dressed? But it’s the middle of the night!” she said. “And…and I can’t go home. Really. Please. I have to see this through.”
“God knows, you’re so charming to me, I’m sure I would cry every day if you left,” he murmured dryly.
“I…oh, I can’t say I’m sorry! You were wretched.”
“Be that as it may, how far are you willing to go to stay on this expedition?”
“What do you mean?”
“Are you really ready to sell your soul?” he asked softly.
“But…I can’t go home. I must go forward.”
“Then you’ll have to be willing to do as I say,” he told her flatly. “So get dressed. I’ll be back.”
He left her room, then strode down the hall, hesitating before knocking at the door to Brian’s suite. A few moments later, obviously awakened from a deep sleep, Brian answered.
“What is it?” he heard Camille ask sleepily from the bed.
Hunter looked straight at Brian. “There was a snake in Kat’s room.”
Brian stiffened as if he had turned to stone. Hunter saw the dark fury that crossed his face.
But Brian was controlled, exhaling on a long breath. “So. It begins again.”
“I think it began before we left.”
“The girl is so vulnerable!” Brian said softly. “Do you have a plan?”
“Well, not really a plan. But I believe there is something I can do. And I need your help.”
Camille, hair wild about her lovely face, was at Brian’s side then, wrapped in a robe. “We are ever here, Hunter, when you need us.”
“I’m afraid it entails getting dressed and going out.”
“Whatever for?” Camille asked.
“I believe I know,” Brian murmured.
“Excuse me, then,” Hunter said. “I have a lot of things to do with very little time.” And he hurried away to make the necessary arrangements.
Chapter 13
AS COMMANDED, KAT dressed quickly. She was barely decent when he was back, rapping sharply on the door.
“I’m not quite—”
“Doesn’t matter. Open up.”
She did so, struggling with the back buttons on her shirt. “I told you—”
“Turn around.”
She did so, standing very stiffly, aware of the brush of his fingers against her flesh as he finished the task for her.
He spun her around, giving her a critical appraisal.
“I haven’t had time to do my hair,” she said irritably.
“Just brush it. Have you a cloak or jacket handy?” She grabbed her cloak. “Let’s go,” he said.
She couldn’t have protested. He was on a mission. He took her elbow, escorting her out. To her surprise, Brian and Camille met them in the hallway.
“Where is the snake?” Brian asked.
“In the bottom drawer of Kat’s dresser,” Hunter said.
Kat gave a start. She hadn’t seen him put it there.
Hunter looked at her sharply. “There will be no further word about it, Kat, do you understand?”
“I live to obey,” she murmured.
The gaze he cast her was anything but pleased.
A carriage was waiting for them at the doorway to the hotel. Hunter did not ride inside with the Stirlings and Kat, but hopped up with Ethan, saying that he was going to have to point out the route since he wasn’t exactly sure where they were going.
When the doors were closed and she was in the carriage facing Camille and Brian, Kat asked softly, “Do you know what we’re doing? Where we’re going?”
“I’m afraid not,” Camille said. “And you don’t know, either?”
Kat shook her head.
They had come to a church. To her amazement, Emma Johnson came running out the front door to greet them. “I woke Father Philbin, and he’s waiting inside. And he’s quite agreeable. He said he had a feeling that he’d be seeing you again, Sir Hunter.”
“Um…are we praying for no more incidents along the way?” Kat inquired.
Hunter offered her a dark scowl. “We’re getting married,” he said impatiently.
She froze. The world around her seemed to spin, the air being filled with shards of glass.
Married!
She had been a dreamer all her life. Imagining scenes in her mind of what might be, seeing them as they should be. Married. Of course, she had always thought that she would be married. Not even because it was expected of a woman, and not because the role of wife was one she felt that she had to play. She had dreamed of marriage as the ultimate romance. Of being with someone day in and day out, loving, being loved, cherishing…
And a proposal! It should have come from a lover on bended knee, his eyes alight and on fire with love and desire, his words impassioned as he pleaded. Then again, she had started this charade. But it hadn’t been real. It had been expedient. A means to an end.
She stared at Hunter, unable to move or to speak.
“We can’t keep the fellow up all night,” he said impatiently.
Expedient. A means to an end.
“We’ll run on in, see what papers need to be signed,” Brian said.
“Come, Emma, introduce us to the priest, please,” Camille said.
Kat stood on the beautifully tiled walk before the church, still staring at Hunter. “You…you don’t have to do this,” she said.
He shrugged, impatient, if anything. “You pretty much agreed that you were willing to sell your soul to remain on this trip. So…here it is. I can’t leave you alone because you seem to be in danger every time I turn my back. Even though he saw the snake, Lord Avery will soon have apoplexy from the thought of my rushing into your room time and time again. So I must be with you. This is the only solution I can find.”