Summer's Secret

by Sandra Heath

  “Am I not to know your name?” he inquired, tilting her face toward his just as he had in the orchard.

  Her lips parted to answer, but then she hesitated as she remembered her cousin Caro’s forthcoming betrothal. The prospect of being found innocently at the inn with Jeremy Fenwick had been bad enough, but there was nothing innocent about this! But it was only too easy to convince herself that any indiscretion in this room at the Black Lion would never spread beyond the confines of these four walls. She met his eyes. “My name is Olivia,” she whispered.

  “Just Olivia?”

  “I think it best,” she answered.

  He took her left hand and raised it so that her wedding ring caught the light. “Is this the reason?”

  “No. My husband has been dead two years.”

  He searched her face. “Very well, Olivia, I will not press you to tell me more, and I will introduce myself simply as Brand.”

  “Brand,” she repeated softly, for at last he had a name. It suited him, for there was a flame running through him, a flame upon which she longed to burn her foolish Icarus wings.... At last the wanton words she longed to say came to her lips. “Make love to me, Brand,” she whispered, undoing the remaining ribbon ties of her nightgown and allowing the garment to slide to the floor.

  His dark gaze moved over her nakedness; then he smiled and began to untie his neckcloth.

  She watched as he undressed. His timeless perfection crossed every century there had ever been, and that ever would be. He had a body that was smooth and leanly muscular, with broad shoulders, slender hips, and taut buttocks. The hair at his groin was thick and dark, and his virility sprang out in readiness.

  He smiled again as he saw how she gazed at him, then held out a hand. “Come to me, Olivia,” he breathed.

  She walked toward him in a dream. Their fingers entwined, and he drew her into his arms. She felt the shaft of his virility pressing imperatively against her, then he swept her up into his arms and carried her to the bed.

  Desire keened through her like a wild hunt as he placed her on the crumpled sheet and then lay with her. The smell of costmary lingered on his skin from his clothes, and his warmth was exciting as he leaned over her and put a hand on her thigh. He bent his head to kiss her breast, and she closed her eyes as he caressed the already stimulated nipple with his tongue.

  He moved to straddle her, pinning her hands back against the pillow as he looked down into her eyes. “You are a woman to die for, my sweet Olivia,” he whispered, slowly lowering his hips until his virility pressed between her parted thighs.

  She felt his heat as he penetrated her. He took his time, pushing in slowly and luxuriously until he could push no farther. Then he looked down into her eyes again. “We are one now, Olivia, joined in the most exquisite way of all.”

  Tears stung her eyes. “Brand,” she breathed. “Oh, Brand ...” She was transported by an unbelievable tide of exhilaration. Her entire body felt as if it were floating, and the experience was almost too much. This felt so very right, as if it were meant to be, and she wanted it to last forever, wanted to be with him forever.

  She shivered with gratification as he began to thrust, gently at first, but then more and more urgently. The wild hunt was coursing through them both now, bringing a tumult of pleasure that propelled them toward a final moment that promised every delight they could ever have yearned for. The prize shone before them, and at last the sheer force of climax swept them into the light.

  She arched beneath him, her fingernails digging into his back as a thousand remembered, yearned-for, wept-for emotions sang through her entire being. Jack’s face lingered for a beloved moment, but it was this man, this lover-stranger, who had brought her to life again. She clung to him, tasting the salt of her own tears on his lips and treasuring the firm warmth of his body against hers. A night like this might never happen again. He was a fantasy that for the moment was fact in her arms, and as his tender lips brushed hers again, she prayed the dawn would be a long time coming.

  But she had forgotten the cold plain facts of time, and the cassette recorder that would bring her trance to an end because she herself had set the controls. He made love to her again, and again, but when the two hours had passed, the four-poster bed at the inn disappeared, Brand disappeared, and suddenly she was alone in the future.

  She heard the cassette recorder switch off, then silence, except for the rain on the window.

  Chapter Six

  For a moment Summer’s hand crept to where Brand would have been had she still been with him at the Black Lion. But he wasn’t there, and the desperate loneliness of the past six months suddenly descended over her again. She could feel the glow of Olivia’s health slipping out of her, leaving behind only Summer Stanway’s fragility.

  She turned over and hid her face in the pillows. Why hadn’t she just played the beginning of the cassette? Why hadn’t she omitted the end, and left herself to awaken naturally out of the trance? If she had done that, she would still be with Brand now! Tears of frustration stung her eyes, and her fists clenched, but gradually she calmed down. Common sense had to prevail. It was stupid to get angry; she was Summer Stanway, not Olivia Courtenay! Olivia had lived and died a long time ago, and becoming her again was, literally, a trick of the mind. But, oh, how good it would be to switch the cassette on and never become Summer again!

  A little shocked by the force of this last thought, she sat up slowly, drawing up her knees and clasping them through the bedclothes as she gazed toward the window. It had come from the heart. She really did wish she could become Olivia forever, and the realization was a little numbing, for it brought home to her exactly how desolate Summer Stanway’s existence had become.

  Six months ago, before Jack’s death, she would never have felt or thought like this. Or would she? A few minutes ago—or was it centuries?—she had lain in Brand’s arms, more satisfied and contented than she could ever remember being. And that included the time she’d been with Jack.

  An awful feeling of disloyalty gripped her then, as if she’d been unfaithful. But Jack was dead. He was dead. Flinging the bedclothes aside, she got up, running her fingers agitatedly through her short hair. God, what an emotional mess she was. Guilt about Jack, guilt about illicitly recording Andrew, guilt about just everything under the sun, even—when it was conveniently too late and the deed had more than been done with Brand—guilt about Olivia Courtenay’s cousin Carol. Oh, for heaven’s sake, this was totally ridiculous! Was she about to shoulder the conscience of the entire world, present and past?

  She needed a drink, and if it weren’t for the darned diabetes, she’d have one. A large one! Instead, she’d have to content herself with water, but at least she could have half a ton of ice in it.

  Putting on her wrap, she slipped from the room and went to the kitchen. Then, with a large glass of ice and water clinking in her hand, she went to the living room, drew back the curtains, and sat gazing out at the sea. The rain didn’t dash against the windows on this side of the apartment, and she could see the whites of the breakers on the shore.

  She had to blame someone for the wretchedness her life had become, and the only person she could point a finger at was Jack. It was all his fault. If he’d taken more care behind the wheel, he’d still be alive!

  “Damn you, Jack!” she cried, a little more loudly than she realized, for after a moment a door opened and Chrissie came in, her eyes still sleepy as she pulled on her cream silk negligee. “Are you okay, honey?”

  “Yes. I’m sorry if I disturbed you.”

  Chrissie came closer and glanced at the window. “Not exactly a romantic moonlit night, mm?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “Actually, I thought I heard you get up ages ago, must have been nearly two hours back.”

  “Oh?”

  Chrissie eased herself onto the arm of Summer’s chair. “You are sure you’re all right, aren’t you?” she asked gently.

  “Yes, I’m fine,” Summer l
ied.

  Chrissie misinterpreted. “You will get over Jack, you know.”

  Summer didn’t say anything, for Brand’s reflection seemed to be smiling at her from the window.

  “I’ll be honest with you,” Chrissie went on. “I heard what you shouted out just now. It’s good, you know. Anger is part of the grieving process.”

  Summer felt awful. After what she’d done, she didn’t deserve Chrissie’s comfort.

  Chrissie stayed companionably on the arm of the chair for a few minutes more, then got up. “Guess I’d better get back to bed, or I’ll be a wreck for tomorrow evening.”

  “Tomorrow evening?”

  “Andrew and I are going to that dinner at the Savoy in London. All Svengalis and wives welcome. Don’t you remember?”

  “It had quite slipped my mind.”

  “It hadn’t slipped mine,” Chrissie said dryly. “The only consolation as far as I’m concerned is getting a little Oxford Street shopping in first.”

  “So you’re leaving at the crack of dawn?” Summer said, grinning.

  “Of course. What else can a dedicated shopaholic do?”

  “I’m really sorry I woke you like this, Chrissie.”

  “I’ll survive. ‘Night, then.”

  “ ‘Night.”

  Summer remained where she was. Chrissie’s kindness made her feel worse than she did before. She leaned her head back then, for a stark, sobering truth insinuated itself firmly amid the jumble of guilt. Okay, so she had a conscience about what she’d done, but it wasn’t going to stop her from doing it again. What she’d found in her previous life was far better than anything she had in this life, and she didn’t intend to give it up.

  Now she had the ill-gotten means, she had every intention of becoming Olivia Courtenay as often as she could, so it was hypocrisy to wring her hands and don a hair shirt. She finished the water and got up. A minute later she was in bed, and two minutes after that she was asleep.

  * * *

  Chrissie and Andrew left for London at seven in the morning, with Chrissie brandishing her credit cards and Andrew looking sick at the prospect of trailing around store after store. Still, as Summer pointed out, it was the price he had to pay for his wife’s company at the hypnotherapists’ wingding.

  Chrissie made her promise again to do everything she should as far as her diabetes was concerned. “You should have learned it all by heart by now, kid,” she pointed out.

  Summer replied like a seven-year-old. “Yes, I have, teacher. I’ll nibble a snack on time, eat properly on time, and administer my insulin on time.”

  Even then Chrissie would have fussed around still more had not Andrew manhandled her into the car and driven off.

  When they’d gone, Summer went for a walk along the beach. Her thoughts were taken up completely with Brand, as they had been from the moment she’d opened her eyes that morning. The sea was still rough, and the tide was beginning to come in when she returned to the apartment to take a shower. Then, as she had a cup of coffee and some toast in the living room, she knew she could no longer resist temptation.

  She went into the bedroom and didn’t wrestle at all with her conscience as she pressed the button, then lay back to begin her breathing exercises. Andrew’s soothing voice and the music washed pleasantly over her, and once again she felt herself sliding into a dreamlike state. She could still hear the sea, but didn’t want to, for it meant she was still in the present. Then suddenly a plate fell with a loud crash, shattering into what sounded like a thousand pieces. Was someone in the apartment?

  She opened her eyes and found herself once more at the foot of the staircase in the Black Lion. Incongruously, the first thing she noticed was that the sporting prints and fireplace no longer boasted their rather withered Christmas greenery, then she saw the cause of the crash that had startled her so. A maid had tripped on an uneven flagstone, and greasy eggs, bacon, and sausages were everywhere.

  The landlord, who was busy trying to placate two angry guests who’d just discovered that they too had been robbed during the night by the intruder, rushed over to berate the poor girl for her clumsiness. The maid burst into tears, protesting that it wasn’t her fault if she had too much to do and the floor was uneven. This enraged the landlord still more. He was suffering from the aftereffects of too much lamb’s wool and was in no mood to be understanding.

  Summer breathed in deeply as she felt Olivia’s strength sweeping through her again, then thought about what had happened in this other life since last she’d been here. After several more hours of the most wonderful and rewarding lovemaking she had ever known, Brand had slipped from her room at daybreak and returned to his own room. Now they were to take breakfast together, but he wasn’t yet in the dining room. What would happen after that she did not know. The only likely course seemed that they’d go their separate ways, ships that had passed in the night, but it wasn’t what she wanted.

  At that moment Sir Oswald and Lady Harvey came downstairs behind her. They looked a little incongruous in their evening finery, and her ladyship’s eyes were red from the copious tears she’d wept. Her plump throat looked decidedly naked without the pink diamond sunburst, and her curly red wig was in need of more attention than could be provided by a mere inn maid.

  “Good morning, Sir Oswald, Lady Harvey,” Summer said, but as she greeted them, she was dismayed to recall having arranged to take breakfast with them as well, something she couldn’t do if she was to see Brand again.

  Lady Harvey hurried down toward her. “Oh, my dear Mrs. Courtenay, did you ever know such a night as this last? I vow I will never sleep easy in my bed again. It was terrible, quite terrible, and the villainous fellow escaped with my precious necklace. We might have all been murdered! Did you escape his vile attentions?”

  “I’m relieved to say I did, Lady Harvey, but I’m terribly sorry you’ve had such a dreadful experience.”

  Sir Oswald took his wife’s hand and patted it fondly.

  “There, there, my dear, I will do what I can to acquire another such necklace for you.”

  She looked at him out of tear-filled eyes. “Oh, dearest Oswald, I do not deserve a husband as kind and considerate as you, but we both know there will never be another necklace like that one.”

  She turned to Summer to explain. “It came from India, you know, and was once the property of a Hindu princess. Sir Oswald was a man of immense importance in the Raj and was highly respected by the Indian nobility. The necklace was a gift of thanks after he saved a prince from brigands, and my dear brave Oswald gave it to me. Now it has gone.” A solitary tear wended its way down her rouged cheek.

  Summer felt very sorry, for the necklace’s sentimental value clearly made it irreplaceable.

  Lady Harvey made a brave attempt to rally. “However, we must be thankful that our throats were not cut as we slept.”

  “We must indeed,” her husband agreed, and then looked at Summer. “I trust you will still take breakfast with us, Mrs. Courtenay?”

  “That... that would be most agreeable, Sir Oswald, but I fear I have something I must attend to first. Would you mind waiting, or shall we simply take coffee together before you depart?”

  She was banking on his appetite making the latter a preferable course to the former, and she was right. He cleared his throat, then gave a quick smile. “My dear lady, do not let us impose upon your plans. By all means take coffee with us a little later, in fact that would be splendid. À bientôt, madame.”

  “À bientôt, Sir Oswald, Lady Harvey.” She dropped a little curtsy, and to her relief they went on into the dining room.

  Meanwhile, the landlord had finished ticking off the unfortunate maid, who was on her hands and knees, gathering the mess into her hitherto spotless apron. It was all Summer could do not to allow her modern self to intrude by bending to help, but she knew that wouldn’t do at all, so she edged around the poor girl, and made her way to the settles by the fire to wait for Brand to come down.

  The lan
dlord had returned to his two irate guests and was doing his best to explain that there was nothing he could say or do that would restore their stolen property. As the two disgruntled men left, the innkeeper heaved a sigh of relief, then glanced toward her as if remembering something. “Ah, madam, I have a letter for you,” he said, searching in his pocket.

  “A letter?” She was taken aback, for who would write to her here? Unless ... Of course, it must be from Jeremy.

  He came over to her and paused with a knowing grin that was only too reminiscent of the ostler’s the day before. “It’s from a Major Jeremy Fenwick, who I am informed you were to meet here yesterday evening. I fear it should have awaited your arrival yesterday, but it was sent to the White Hart instead, and they only dispatched a lad with it about half an hour ago.”

  Summer felt herself coloring just as she had in front of the ostler, for the man spoke in a voice that was easily loud enough to carry to the other four people in the hall. Wishing the landlord, the ostler, and Jeremy in Hades for causing her such unwarranted embarrassment, although if she were strictly honest she had no one but herself to blame for this particular predicament, she broke the seal on the letter, and began to read.

  My dearest Olivia,

  If you only knew how desperately I regret not being able to keep our assignation, but I fear the army has no finer feelings. I’m obliged to report to my barracks somewhat earlier than expected, and so this time will have to forgo the pleasure of gazing into your beautiful gray eyes.

  I thank you from the bottom of my unworthy heart for being what you are, and I sincerely hope that on my return from Ireland we will resume what is for me the most precious of friendships. You are a jewel among women, my darling Olivia, and if you have ever wondered what happened to that miniature of you that Roderick kept with him at all times, I fear the time has come to own up. Now I am the one who gazes upon your loveliness each night before going to sleep!