Jensen turned her head in Levi's direction. The newly lit torches threw the features of his face into stark shadows, his eyes appeared as shiny and black as his hair.
"Be prepared to taste dust, old man," Trent replied. He shot Jensen a cocky wink. "I'll get that kiss yet," he said as he brushed by her. "Done and done!" he said, accepting the wager.
Then, his voice softening, he turned to Jensen. "Would you mind, sweeting?" he asked as he handed her his jacket to hold.
"Hold mine too, Duff," Levi tossed her the buckskin. She hopped off the fence, allowing his jacket to fall to the ground. "Not nice," he admonished leaning over the rail toward her and pinching her chin between his thumb and forefinger.
She jerked her chin free and glared icily at him.
"Duff darlin', pick the damn jacket up."
Some instinct for self-preservation made her obey. Through the fence posts, she lifted the buckskin jacket from the dirt, draped it carelessly over the fence, and then made a great show of smoothing out the nonexistent wrinkles in Stephen's shimmering green jacket still cradled in her arm.
"Little witch," Levi drawled with a nasty half-smile.
Levi whistled once, and his horse trotted obediently to his side. An awed murmur swept over the crowd. Jensen couldn't help thinking that Stephen Trent looked a bit deflated as he followed Levi and his horse to the track.
Deciding it was time to disappear, Jensen placed Stephen's coat on the fence alongside Levi's and headed toward the barn. Climbing to the loft, she threw herself into the soft hay.
She was not alone for long. Celia chuckled to herself as she clambered up the ladder.
"Gads, did you see Mr. North? He was givin' that poor buck the darkest looks." Celia plopped down, shaking the bits of hay from her hair. Suddenly she whipped her head around and stared at Jensen. Even in the near dark Jensen could tell that her blue eyes were glittering with excitement. "I must be daft. How long has he been keen on you?"
"You know, I just met Mr. Trent tonight."
"I wasn't speakin' of him, clever girl." Celia shook her finger at Jensen. "I was speakin' of the master."
"Celia, how much have you had to drink? The man can barely tolerate me. As far as he's concerned, I'm more of a nuisance to him than a swarm of hawkmoths."
"I saw the way he was looking at you, lass."
"I can see why you might think it true, given Mr. North's penchant for seducing his maids." To her surprise, Jensen found herself holding her breath as she awaited Celia's response to her bluff.
"Someone's been filling your head with lies. Mr. Levi North has no such reputation, but his fair-headed brother, well he's quite another story . . . ." Jensen could see the teasing grin flashing in Celia's flushed, cider warmed face. "Fancy the master taking such an interest in a wee slip of a thing like you."
At the sound of the pistol, Celia and Jensen threw wide the window and kneeled, side by side, to watch the race.
Levi took a commanding lead from the start. He thundered down the path like an avenging, dark angel. The wind sent his black hair whipping back, revealing the strong angular planes of his handsome face. The flash of his silver earring and the dimple that threatened on his unshaven cheek caused Jensen's breath to catch in her throat. At the finish, he muscled the massive steed into docility and returned to the stable yard.
***
Hearing Levi's deep voice, Celia peered over the edge of the loft.
"I'd like a word alone with Jensen."
Jensen looked from Celia to the dark figure lounging against the doorframe.
"Of course, sir," Celia said as she attempted a curtsy while still descending the ladder. As she sidled past him, she shot an I-told-you-so look at Jensen over her shoulder.
Jensen scrambled down. He was standing by the window. She could see him clearly in the liquid silver moonlight spilling through the open shutters. His hair was wet and raked back from his face, his chest cleaned of blood.
"That was splendid racing, Mr. North. Couldn't have done better myself."
"Maybe we should race sometime. I can think of a few interesting wagers." He urged her forward with a crook of his finger.
She moved a few steps closer. "'Twas a goodly amount you stood to lose."
His eyes strayed from her face to her breasts, and she shifted nervously under the scrutiny. When his fingers reached out to graze her bodice, she gave a start. Feeling a little silly after noticing he'd only been picking off a piece of straw.
"Aren't you forgetting something?"
"I daresay, I'm at a loss, sir." Then it suddenly occurred to her what he wanted. "It's Archer. You'd like me to rub him down and reward him with some oats." She was at the door now. "It's the least I can do for him."
She didn't hear him approach. In his buckskin boots his footsteps were soundless. He whirled her around so that her back was to the wall and then slammed his hands on either side of her face.
Startled by his sudden fierceness, she grabbed at his buckskin jacket and accidentally tugged off some of the dangling beads. They both watched the turquoise beads bounce onto the straw strewn floor. Before they lifted their eyes, a couple of quills slid off his jacket to join the beads. When she took her hand away, she saw with a shock that she had pulled off two leather fringes.
With a quirked brow, he looked down at his jacket and then back at her. "Duff, are you attempting to destroy in two minutes what it probably took some poor Algonquian grandmother a month to make?"
She gasped as he took her hands and slid them beneath his coat. His skin was slick and hot to the touch. His heavy-lidded gaze made her very uneasy.
A dimple creased his cheek as his hands encircled her waist, pulling her snuggly against his hard body. He dipped his head. "As you may recall, the winner gets a kiss." She felt his words brush her lips like a seductive caress. They were pressed together so tightly she could feel his chest heave with every breath. She wondered if he could feel her heart beating like that of a frightened rabbit's.
"Well, where is Miss Trent?"
"Who?" His lips grazed hers, and an inexplicable heat uncoiled in her stomach.
His long fingers gently trailed a shivering path up her back to the nape of her neck. "Duff, what am I going to do with you?" he groaned.
Plunging his fingers into her hair, he tugged her head back. He ran his warm velvety tongue along the seam of her lips, and then he nipped lightly at her pouty bottom lip. When she gasped in surprise, he took advantage, sliding his tongue in to take full possession of her mouth. He deepened his kiss, sending exquisite tremors coursing through her body, and she reached her hands around his neck, bringing him closer.
"You taste delicious," he drawled, his body shuddered in response.
She blinked up at him. Absently, she threaded her fingers through his ebony locks. His lips curved into a roguish, satisfied half-smile, making her feel a little wanton. Shocked and a bit angry with herself for so easily succumbing to his lethal charms, she buried her blushing face in his chest.
Pinching her chin, he lifted her face to meet his. "I'm beginning to see the merit in this North tradition," he said as he lowered his mouth again to hers.
Her pulse raced as he rubbed his lips against hers with a hungry need. He kissed her for a very long time, and when she finally pulled away, he reminded her that he'd doubled the wager, and even though he'd already taken two kisses, he lowered his head again. She suckled his tongue and mewled softly.
Drawing away, he peered into her passion glazed eyes, then threw back his head and groaned. "What the devil am I going to do with you?"
It nettled her, to hear that question again, after the intimacy they had just shared. She struggled free of his grasp.
Issuing a frustrated scream from between clenched teeth, she marched out and with all her might shoved at the barn door. To her embarrassment, it barely budged, and she was thrown off balance, landing hard on her bottom in the dirt.
She watched him stride toward her, his eyes flickeri
ng with amusement. "Woman," he drawled with a shake of his head.
Slapping aside his proffered hand, she stood up quickly, giving her skirts a brusque shake.
Walking away with her head held high, she tried to ignore his teasing laughter. She wanted to kick herself for always being such a clumsy fool around him.
Chapter 18
The morning after the festivities, a few workers set to work dismantling the temporary stands while others repaired the flower gardens that had been trampled by the revelers.
Levi squeezed his eyes shut as the wood planks clattered to the ground. He was suffering a pounding headache, the consequence of too much drink and too little sleep. After watching his servant's sassy, little behind retreat down the path, he had hoisted himself up to the loft and polished off a flask of rum, hoping to douse the heat in his loins. The kiss he'd shared with her had left his body hard and aching with a ferocious need. He shuddered as he remembered the softness of her mouth, the sweet smell of her skin. Even an early morning dunk in the cold river had done little to drown the lustful thoughts that plagued him.
Raking his fingers through his wet hair, he cursed under his breath, the chit had become a hunger in his blood.
Levi was heading on foot toward the crops, determined to see the progress his field hands had made in clearing a piece of land for growing flax, when he spotted Celia running toward Thomas in a near panic. With amazing agility, she managed to tie her bonnet, fasten her pinafore, and hurdle smoothly over the pile of wood in her path. Levi caught snippets of what she was saying, and when he heard Jensen's name mentioned for the second time, his attention became acute.
"Celia, what is it?" he called as he walked toward them.
"Nothing, sir," she replied, as she began twisting a ringlet of hair around her finger, a nervous gesture that Levi had witnessed on many occasions.
"Nothing?" he scoffed. "I just watched you run the length of the courtyard as though your petticoats were on fire."
Twirling her curl with increasing fervor, Celia's eyes grew wide as they nervously shifted to Thomas.
"Tell him," Thomas prodded, nudging her arm.
"I'm sure it's nothing to worry about, but Jensen didn't come to bed last night."
"Are you sure?" he asked through clenched teeth, all the while resisting the urge to put his fist through a wall.
"I'm afraid so."
Levi turned to Thomas. "Do you know anything about this?"
"No sir, the last time I saw Jensen was after the races." He pointed to the rose garden. "Saw her with Mr. Trent over there on the stone bench. Mighty cozy they looked, too."
"Search the damn grounds and bring me the wench the minute you find her." Levi stalked away and then turned abruptly on his heels. "Never mind, I'll find her myself," he said in such dangerous tones that Celia sidled closer to Thomas and clutched his arm in fear.
He kicked in the door to the first horseless stall. Damnation, if he found her with Trent between her legs, he did not think he would be able to stop himself from killing them both.
His heavy black boot crashed through the door of the only other unoccupied stall. It splintered and swung open on its remaining hinge. This stall was empty, too, the hay undisturbed. He pushed past Thomas, who was looking at him as though he'd lost all reason. Untethering Archer, he flung himself into the saddle. Wheeling the horse around, he thundered down the road. He cursed his own weakness. Here he was neglecting his estate to find one lying, little female.
Long after dusk, his horse lathered with sweat, he entered the gates of Moss Rose empty handed. "Did you find her?" he asked Samuel curtly as he tossed him the reins and dismounted.
"Sorry, sir," Samuel replied.
A sudden thought struck him. He stopped dead in his tracks. "Seen my wolf?"
Samuel's pale brows rose in question. "Heard her howling earlier." A perceptible tremor ran through his scrawny frame. He pointed toward the string of outbuildings. "From somewhere over there."
Levi snatched Samuel's lantern from the fence post, wondering why in hell he hadn't thought of his wolf earlier. He headed in the direction of Moss Rose's storehouses.
Spotting his brother lifting the hatch door of the icehouse, Levi knew he'd found her. Nothing but the thought of saving a beautiful female in distress would persuade his brother to venture into a dark, damp cavern. If he needed more proof, his pet loped to him nudging his hand, urging him forward. Setting his lantern down, Levi bypassed the steps, vaulting over the doorsill to land in a crouch on the stone floor. He ignored his brother's shocked blasphemy.
"Shine the damn light," Levi ordered.
Frowning, Matthias held his candle high and turned in a half-circle.
***
Jensen watched as the North brothers approached, unable to utter a syllable, her jaw frozen in the pose of fear she'd assumed hours ago. In a way, she was grateful. She didn't trust what she might have said at the sight of Levi North dropping from the ceiling. When all six feet, four inches of him straightened from his crouched position, she'd fought the urge to throw herself into his arms. Truth was, she could barely move a muscle. She was numb from shoulder to toes. She was huddled atop a crate, her legs tucked close to her body beneath her chin, her thin shawl gripped with a bloodless hand.
Matthias set the candle down and shouldered past his brother. "Been down here all day?"
She nodded, biting her lip to stop the tears from coming again. Looking past Matthias, she wondered irritably why Levi was hanging back and nearly sighed with relief when he moved toward her.
"What the devil are you doing here?" His gruff voice, and the rough way he was warming her by rubbing his hands over her arms made her feel strangely comforted. Very gently, he began to unfurl her stiff limbs. She nearly cried at the fierce prickling sensation.
His gaze lit on her ankle. She could swear his eyes shone with a possessive gleam at the sight of his gift to her, the gem studded chain secured around her boot. His lips tipped into a smug smile.
The chill had settled in her bones, and a shiver coursed the length of her body. "I was sent to fetch some ice."
Upon hearing what was left of her voice both men gave her the oddest look. She thought it a fair imitation of gravel on gravel. "I was a little uneasy down here by myself. I called for help. Once, mayhap twice," she said as way of explanation.
Levi nudged her chin up with his thumb. "The cellar is empty of ice at this time of year. Who sent you?"
"Andrea's idea. Said it was on Maggie's behest. Maggie, though, knew nothing of it," Matthias supplied in an irritated tone. "Finally fessed up, I suppose she had second thoughts."
"She's become domestic all of a sudden." Levi twisted his head around to peer at his brother, his long, black hair brushing her cheek. "And I suppose the door latched itself?"
"You can hardly blame her. It is apparent to everyone."
What they were saying made absolutely no sense to Jensen, and she could tell they were exchanging a look, but it didn't matter. His heated touch made her want to purr like a spoiled kitten.
"Let me take her out of here. I haven't a reputation to spoil," Matthias offered. "For God's sake, it's six thousand acres. Incentive enough for any man," he continued, his voice raising an octave.
"Fine," Levi said, and to Jensen's dismay wrapped the shawl even tighter around her and stepped away. He slammed his brother's back hard with his open hand, propelling him forward.
The spoils go to the loser, she thought with annoyance, and said, "It shan't be necessary for either of you to carry me." Brave words indeed, she thought, but her limbs still refused to cooperate. "Go on with you." She shooed them with her hands. "I'll be right behind you."
Matthias was too much of a gallant to give up it seemed. He rubbed his hands, readying himself, rather too eagerly Jensen felt. For some reason, just as he was stooping to pick her up, he chanced a look at his brother. Instantly, he straightened, the color draining from his face.
"Getting smarter in your
old age, Matt."
Jensen winced as Levi gave him another resounding slap on the back.
"Little mouse," Levi said in a hoarse tone, scooping her into his arms and carrying her up the steps.
"'Twould be my luck to find myself locked in the cellar, the day you've finally given up tracking me."
"Right." He saw no point in telling her he'd ridden like a madman through half of Virginia to find her.
She yawned loudly and rubbed her tired eyes with her knuckles, reminding him of a little girl. He tucked her head under his chin and suppressed a groan as she nuzzled her face against the skin exposed by his open shirt collar. She drifted into sleep, her lips parting slightly, her sweet warm breath sending shudders of need pulsing through his body. Levi tightened his grip, rubbed his chin over her silken hair, and knew that he had to have her.
The sudden heavy drops of a summer storm began to pelt them. "Tell Celia to get a hot bath started in my chamber," he told Matthias, who trailed behind them.
"That ought to go over well with Andrea," Matthias muttered.
"Yes, I'm terribly concerned about Andrea's feelings at the moment," Levi replied dryly.
Levi walked with Jensen toward the well-lit manor, through the door, and upstairs to his room. He pushed the curtains aside and dropped her softly onto his bed.
"A hip bath will be just fine," Jensen said, trying to prop herself on her elbows, but her head felt like a lead weight, and she let it fall back into the goosedown pillow.
By the time Joseph had hauled up the last bucket of water, Jensen had managed to swing her legs off the bed. She cradled her throbbing head in her hands. "Thank you, Joseph," she said.
She stood on shaky legs. Bracing herself on the furniture, she walked clumsily into the private chamber. When she saw the large steaming tub, she thought she'd died and gone to heaven. Closing the door, she noted with dismay that it had no lock. She peeled off her damp clothes and dropped them in a pile by the tub. Maggie had had something wonderful added to the water, it smelled of almonds and milk.
Jensen found she could stretch out completely in the long bath, there was even a curved headrest for her aching head. She washed her hair with the smooth vanilla-colored soap and then lay back to luxuriate in the warmth of the water.
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