"I'm not featherheaded," she protested softly, her throat tight. Pressure built behind her eyes. I won't cry. I won't. "And I didn't come to your room because I think you're incompetent."
"Then why did you come to me, Christina?" His breath fogged hotly against her cheeks, and the air between them shimmered with heat.
"I don't know. I don't like how it is between us now. I thought maybe... perhaps..."
"What?"
A dozen different ideas hovered on her tongue, but the one that slipped out was the last thing she wanted to say. "I thought you found me attractive."
He closed his eyes and shuddered. Long seconds ticked by. "I do," he said finally, his voice a rough croak. "Damn you, Bug, but I do."
His confession was a magnet that pulled her toward him. He smelled of sandalwood and yearning and he was oh, so close.
Chrissy kissed him.
She pressed her lips to his and poured all the feeling, all the confusion, churning inside her into the effort. Cole resisted for only a heartbeat before responding. He muttered something—an oath, she thought—then groaned and took control.
His hands were magic. He knew just where to touch her, just how to stroke her, to feed the spark of her desire. He knelt on the bed, urged her back until she lay sandwiched between the hard length of his body and soft comfort of the mattress. Her head spun, her breasts tingled, and her woman's core ached.
Again, it was happening again. Chrissy knew she should stop it, knew he didn't want this, but she couldn't quite summon the will to say no. In fact, every inch of her body seemed to be screaming Yes, yes, yes.
His hands delved beneath her skirt and soon found bare skin. She shivered at his touch, gloried in the scrape of work-roughened skin against her. Passion sang in her blood and lured her toward mindlessness.
But it didn't quite get her there.
Even as his fingers slipped inside her wet heat, sending ribbons of pleasure fluttering through her, Chrissy remembered how he'd reacted the last time in the folly. She recalled the harsh looks. She heard the echo of the words they'd exchanged since.
She didn't want that. This momentary pleasure wasn't worth the heartache that undoubtedly would follow. She only hoped it wasn't already too late to avoid it.
She turned her head, breaking contact, and regretfully pushed against the hardness of his chest. "Cole."
That's all it took. His hand dropped away. Groaning, he rolled off of her and lay on his back, breathing heavily, one arm flung over his eyes. "I wish Jake were here."
"Why?"
"He could just shoot me now and get it over with."
"My brother wouldn't shoot you."
Cole shifted his arm and cocked open one eye. "Quick as a rattler on a rat, he would."
Chrissy didn't argue the point again. Cole seemed so definite and besides, he wouldn't have heard her over the litany of curses he muttered. She didn't move or make a sound as he finally wound down and declared. "I miss home. I miss the weather and the people and the music and the scent of chili spices hanging on the air. I miss the newness of it all, the sense that I'm living on the edge of civilization in San Antonio. Over here, everything is so... settled. So old. Stifling." After a moment's pause, he added, "That must be it."
When seconds ticked by without his elaborating, she prodded, "Must be what?"
"Why I'm all of a sudden losing control around you. You are an exciting woman. I'll give you that. But this..." he sat up and made a waving motion with his hand. "This..." He stood and paced the room. "This madness between us. It's has to stop, Chrissy. It must stop."
Her heart thumping, Chrissy sat up. She licked her suddenly dry lips and croaked out the question that had rumbled through her subconscious for hours or days or maybe even years. "Why?"
He stopped short, his head whipping around. "What?"
"I asked why?"
"Why what, Christina?"
She frowned. She'd gone from Christina, to Chrissy, to Bug and now back again. Could there be a better barometer of Cole's frame of mind? Still, she had to ask.
"Why does it need to stop? I enjoy it and it's obvious you do, too. You know, I've some experience when it comes to kissing, and I honestly don't remember it ever being quite this... stimulating before. Maybe we should give it some more time and see where it goes."
He gaped at her. "Forget exciting. You're a menace. 'See where it goes?' Didn't you learn anything when you followed me and your brother to the whorehouse? I'll tell you where it goes." He pointed toward the bed. "Are you that reckless, girl?"
She had a sudden vision of her and Cole back in the bed, limbs entwined, their bodies naked. Yes, I'm that reckless.
She thought of Lord Welby and her upcoming nuptials and said, "This madness, you call it. It means something, Cole. I think we owe it to ourselves—"
"It means we both have an itch that needs scratching. That's all. It doesn't mean it's right to scratch each other's itches." He stormed around the room, waving his hands as he spoke in a tone no less furious for its quietness. "I can't believe you are talking this way... acting this way... with me. No wonder your mother was at her wits' end. You need a keeper."
The words formed on her tongue without conscious thought. "Or a husband."
He froze mid-step then drew back in horror. The moment spun out like dew on Hartsworth's front lawn and when finally he spoke, Chrissy heard a harsh note in his tone. "What are you trying to say, Christina?"
Obviously nothing you want to hear. She rose from the bed and smoothed her skirts, pride winging to the rescue. "I'm sure it's not you. Cole. I imagine my feminine juices are simply stirred up in anticipation of my wedding. Welby is such a gentleman, of course, and he wouldn't think of trying to compromise me like this."
"Now wait just one minute," Cole said. "You're the one who—"
She brushed past him, headed for his door. "And I imagine the reason I found it so stimulating is that I allowed you liberties I've never allowed another man. Now that I know, perhaps I'll see what I can do about convincing Welby to act less a gentleman," she opened the door, "and more like you."
"Christina!" He looked red in the face and brought to mind a volcano fixing to blow.
"Don't forget to talk to Lord Bennet tomorrow," she added, peeking out into the hallway to see if the coast was clear. Safer out than in, she slipped into the corridor and started to shut the door. Cole's litany of low-voiced curses had her ducking her head back inside. "You prove my point, Cole Morgan. A gentleman doesn't speak so in front of a lady."
"When I see a lady I'll watch my tongue."
Chrissy yanked the door closed just a little too loudly for after two in the morning. As a result, she picked up her skirts and ran toward her own room, grateful her feet were bare and thus silent against the cold marble tile.
Minutes later, she lay in her own bed, her pulse pounding, her thoughts in a whirl. What in the world got into me? Cole Morgan a husband? My husband?
"He's right. It's madness." She wanted a man who would accept the woman she was, who would love her unconditionally. Cole Morgan loving her the way she needed was about as likely as snow in San Antonio's Plaza de Las Armas in August.
* * *
Afternoon sunshine beamed down upon the Hartsworth guests who accompanied the Earl of Thornbury on an excursion to the far boundaries of his vast estate for a visit to the medieval castle ruins. In offering the entertainment to his visitors, the earl had explained how he intended to excavate the site for artifacts. He planned to devote an entire room at Hartsworth to display the armor and weapons, pottery and plates, waiting to be found on his estate.
Unknown to the amateur archeologists, the earl had completed a thorough search of the ruins just last year. The artifacts recovered were stored in one of Hartsworth's attic rooms, waiting for the last of the display pieces commissioned by the earl from a local furniture maker whose talent rivaled Chippendale himself. Today, however, a few of the items had been returned to the site where they awaited
"discovery" by the house party guests.
Cole had been tipped to the plan by the earl himself, and as he watched the men and women milling around the old stone walls, he agreed that the idea was inspired. What he didn't agree with was Christina's behavior.
"So what else is new?" he muttered, his gaze locked upon his best friend's sister as she walked arm in arm across the park with her betrothed. His best friend's sister—that's how he was determined to think of her—a decision he'd reached sometime during a mostly sleepless night.
Of course, after their most recent encounter, he'd prefer not to think of her at all. Had he been able to forget family connections, he'd have packed his bags that morning and hightailed it for home, abandoning both the search for the Declaration and the woman hellbent on driving him to destruction.
Or, he'd have thrown what little sense he retained to the wind and crawled into her bed to assuage the persistent ache she'd brought to life.
What exactly had happened last night? What was the real reason she'd come to his room? Was it truly this business with Bennet, or something else?
Had she actually broached the notion of marriage between the two of them?
He'd tried to wrap his mind around the questions all night. The various answers he came up with ranged from ridiculous to haunting and left him riddled with self-doubt. If she had been talking about marrying him, he figured she must have been looking for an escape from this marriage mess she'd gotten herself into with Welby. In a sense, Cole reckoned he owed her his help. He knew as certain as a chicken has feathers that she'd accepted the viscount because of what had happened between the two of them out in the folly.
But what if he'd misunderstood her oblique reference? What if—and he'd had to work himself up to considering this—what if marrying Welby was a good move for her? Maybe some of Christina's restlessness resulted from the need to get busy making a home of her own and raising babies of her own instead of playing second-fiddle mother to Lana Kleberg's children. What if with a little time, she could come to love Lord Windy?
Time. It always came back to that. His plan to convince Christina to take Welby home to Texas was right on target. So when ten minutes later he spied the earl in conversation with Christina and her betrothed, he chose to saunter over and join in the talk.
"Afternoon, Christina," he said, not quite meeting her emerald gaze. "Thornbury. Welby."
"Good afternoon, Morgan," said the earl. "Glad you decided to join us on our excursion. So, tell me, what do you think of my castle?"
Cole glanced around. From the crumbled walls and heaps of stone, he tried to build a castle which met the image of such fortifications already in his imagination. "It's intriguing, and something I certainly wouldn't see at home. For a man who has lived his life in the New World, the idea of something being so old is definitely a mind teaser."
"I understand," replied the earl. "My thoughts about America are probably quite similar. I'm intrigued by the newness of everything, of unspoiled frontiers. That and the wildlife. I've always had an interest in wildlife."
"I assumed as much from Hartsworth's trophy room. I took a wrong turn in the house one day and for a moment, I thought that lion was going to jump me."
"It is a particularly lifelike display," observed Welby.
While Thornbury and the viscount discussed the talents of various taxidermists, Cole decided now would be a good time to ease the conversation in the direction he wanted. Though he'd have preferred to do this without Christina as witness, the sooner this particular seed was planted, the sooner it would grow, and the sooner this foolish fiancé business could be ended.
"That sounds like you have a fair collection of stuffed animals, Thornbury. Too bad it's limited to African and European samples. I've always said a trophy room isn't complete without an armadillo decorating the mantel."
Christina rolled her gaze toward the sky. "Don't believe him, Grandfather. I don't doubt yours is the first trophy room Cole has ever seen."
Cole studied his fingernails as he casually observed, "Now, I guess that depends on what kind of trophies you're talking about. Your brother does have that cigar box full of—"
"Morgan!" she snapped, obviously expecting him to refer to the hair ribbon collection Jake kept as souvenirs of romantic conquests.
"—newspaper clippings about the court cases he has won."
He grinned at the dark look she sent his way, then continued his campaign by addressing the earl. "I'd like to hear a monkey howl, to learn if it resembles a coyote's. I'd like to see what a herd of zebras looks like in comparison to a herd of wild mustangs. I'd like to know how Africa's cougars resemble those that run in Texas. How about you, Thornbury? Any of those questions tickle your fancy?"
He tugged thoughtfully on his snowy mustache. "They all do."
Morgan, you are so good. "Then you should consider a trip to Texas. Think of the creatures you'd get to see in addition to those javelinas. Bobcats. Rattlesnakes. Wild mustangs."
"It does sound tempting," mused the earl. "Mustangs, hmm? The idea of herds of wild horses has always intrigued me. Have you seen them, Morgan?"
"Sure have," he nodded. "Years ago, south Texas was rife with 'em. Nowadays a man needs to head west to run across them. We still have them, though, and it's a sight to see when a stallion stands atop a rise and trumpets and the mares come a'runnin'."
"Interesting." The earl glanced at his granddaughter. "Have you seen such a sight, my dear?"
Nodding, she looped her hand through her grandfather's arm. "Yes. Cole is right. It is something to see. I'll tell you something else you'd find fascinating, Grandfather. With your interest in birdwatching, you'd adore the Gulf Coast. Birds from all over North America fly south to winter in Texas. At times they'll blanket the ground for as far as a person can see."
"Now, Christina, that's a bit of an exaggeration, don't you think?" Cole prodded, knowing the more said about the subject at the moment, the better.
She shrugged. "Not much of one."
Welby hooked his thumbs through the holes in his yellow brocade vest. "What's that animal you mentioned earlier? The one for the mantel?"
"Armadillo. Now you're getting into the smaller animals. We've got your armadillos, possums, jackrabbits. I'm almost tempted to add tarantula spiders to that list as they're just about as big as a possum."
"Now who is exaggerating?" asked Christina.
Cole cut her a grin, then continued. "You've mentioned a curiosity for the West, yourself, Welby. You should consider making the trip, too."
"Actually, I have," the viscount answered. "Mrs. Kleberg raised the question just yesterday and it does offer some appeal."
Morgan, you are so very good.
Cole allowed his gaze to trail across the ruined castle walls and linger on the delighted dowager victoriously displaying the jewel-encrusted sword hilt she'd retrieved from a hidden cache. "Look at that. It gives me a shiver to see a piece of medieval treasure. This trip to England has reminded me just how big our world is and how many truly fascinating sights it has to offer. It's a shame we see such a little of it during our lifetimes."
"That's a good point, Morgan," said the earl.
Cole met first the viscount's gaze, and then the earl's. "If a man has the means and opportunity, why, he almost owes it to himself to get out and travel a bit. Y'all really ought to think about paying Texas a visit. You could see our ocean and forests and mountains. Do some bird watching. Hunt up a herd of mustangs. Thornbury, you could spend some time with your daughter."
Interest fired in the elderly man's eyes at that. "It's quite a long distance."
"It's a lot of miles, yes, but it's not a bad trip. I had a great voyage over," he lied. "In fact, now that I think about it, everything falls into place. You're a wildlife enthusiast. Welby is curious about the American West. Y'all should come home with me when I go. The Delaneys should have the opportunity to meet Christina's intended before the wedding. They could even have the wedding in Texas,
for that matter."
"Absolutely not," said Christina, her green eyes snapping.
Welby frowned. "That would be difficult, I'm afraid. The Harrington family has traditions to uphold."
Cole shrugged. "A prenuptial visit then. Elizabeth would love that. Then she and Jake could come back to England with y'all for the wedding."
"Cole!" protested Christina.
"Do you think Elizabeth would actually come home?" asked the earl, hope ringing in his voice. "Do you think she's ready to put aside her vow never to return?"
Christina fumed. "Cole Morgan, hush your mouth."
Ignoring her, he answered the earl's question. "She's never had her only daughter marrying a British viscount before. I think she'd make the trip you went to Texas first. Think of all you'd see and do. Why," he gestured toward the crumbled castle walls. "We even have a ruin or two ourselves you can gander at—one almost in Christina's backyard. Y'all have heard of the Alamo, I presume?"
Thornbury's brow knitted. "The Alamo. Hmm... I don't believe—"
"Pardon me, but did I hear you mention the Alamo?" came a voice from off to Cole's left.
He turned to see a newcomer striding toward them. He was a stocky fellow, a good five inches shorter than Cole with a soft-featured face and gray eyes that struck a discordant note in Cole.
"I'm an expert on the Battle of the Alamo," the newcomer continued. "Do you have questions?"
Yes. Who are you?
The earl cleared his throat. "Bennet. You've arrived."
"That I have, Lord Thornbury. I reached Hartsworth late last evening."
"Lovely," said the earl in a tone of voice that suggested otherwise. "I guess I should introduce you to my visitors. Lord Bennet, my granddaughter, Miss Delaney, and Mr. Morgan of San Antonio, Texas."
Bennet's gasp was audible. "San Antonio! What luck. I'm a Texologist, you see."
"Texologist?" Cole asked.
"A student of all things having to do with Texas, fauna and flora, her people and of course, her history. I have a special interest in Texas history."
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