Nights in White Satin: A Loveswept Classic Romance

by Linda Cajio

  “We aim to please.”

  A thought suddenly struck her. She probably should wait until she saw the man in London, but Rick might know a lot of people in the circles the Colonel frequented to find his victims. Although Lettice didn’t want to tell Rick anything—apparently Rick was one for leaving everything to the authorities—Jill decided she could brave one “innocent” question.

  “Do you know a Colonel Fitchworth-Leeds?” she asked, then hastily added, “I was told to say hello to him while I’m here.”

  Rick stared at her for a long moment. “No. Never heard of him.”

  “Oh.” She could hear the real disappointment in her voice.

  He glanced up through the canopy of oak leaves, then began backing up the slope, the split safely behind him. “No clouds. We need some rain. Well, I’m glad you got to see the castle. Good people, the Ascombes. It was nice almost running into you, but I hope you’ll excuse me. I really should get back to work on that carburetor for the second truck.”

  “Of course,” she murmured, stung by his abrupt dismissal. First he was stroking her face, then he was giving her the brush-off.

  He disappeared inside the garage again. Jill turned away to walk back to the house. Anger shot through her at every step. She didn’t know whether she was more upset with Rick for his rejection of her, or if she was upset about being upset about it. Either way, the man had the ability to make her feel like a schoolgirl in the throes of a first wild crush.

  This was no time for distractions, she told herself yet again. Tomorrow she and Lettice would see the man who was supposed to help her. If he couldn’t, then she would have to help herself. She was so close, she’d be a fool not to try. A lot of people didn’t believe in upholding family honor, but she did. Dammit, those emeralds should have come to her in a centuries-old heritage of one generation of Daneforths keeping the necklace safe for a lifetime, then passing it on to the next. Time was against her, though, with the new job and the anniversary party.

  And if that weren’t enough, there was the very disturbing and very dangerous Rick Kitteridge.

  She had a feeling this entire trip was headed for disaster. Worse, she had a feeling her feeling was right.

  Three

  The sun was still hiding behind the horizon, its first rays just touching the earth.

  Hairbrush in hand, Jill opened her bedroom’s casement window and leaned out, taking a deep breath of the early morning air. She had yet to see a screen anywhere in England. On the other hand, mosquitoes were nonexistent and nobody seemed to mind the occasional bee buzzing the sitting rooms.

  She pulled her brush through her hair almost absently, musing that it looked like it was going to be a beautiful day. But her mind wasn’t interested in the weather. It wanted to think about only one thing—Rick Kitteridge and that near-kiss of yesterday. She shivered, remembering how his body had touched hers, how innocence had turned to sensuality. She had forgotten everything in that moment. If someone had asked her what her name was, she wouldn’t have known it. She had lain awake after going to bed, thinking of what would have happened if he really had kissed her. Lord help her if he ever did. She was becoming increasingly aware of the unusual com bination of gentility and sexuality in Rick. Even worse, she was curious about him as a person. The man was …

  She didn’t know what the man was, and she had better never find out. Anyway, she ought to be occupied with getting her and Lettice up to London.

  Movement on the lawn below caught her eye. She peered down to see Rick walking across the deserted grass, the sheep taken elsewhere for the night. He walked with an unconscious male grace, quiet and sexy. She tucked her cotton nightgown closer about her, suddenly conscious of her own body and of the slow swirl of desire flowing through her veins. He was carrying a pan, which he set down on the ground about halfway across the lawn.

  Then he stepped back against the trunk of an oak and waited.

  Intrigued, Jill settled her chin on her hands and watched. A few minutes later a red fox appeared from the copse of trees on the other side of the lawn. Holding one hind leg out stiffly, it crossed the lawn in an easy three-legged gait, as if it had made the journey every day of its life. It was followed by two kits, more timid than their parent. When the adult reached the pan, it sniffed the contents, then stood back perfectly fine on all fours. Seeing parental approval, the kits dove into the pan silently competing for the meal.

  Jill watched in fascination, breathless and afraid any movement on her part, even from this distance, would scare the animals away.

  Finally the adult dipped its head in the pan, taking the last of the meal for itself. The trio sniffed around for anything they might have missed, then ambled back into the trees. Even after the fox family was gone, Rick remained under the oak tree. His feeding of the wild family was so unexpected, so … caring. Years of animal loving and zoo work rose up in Jill until she couldn’t resist. She threw on her matching cotton robe, then headed downstairs while buttoning the ankle-length garment from throat to knee. Maybe Rick was waiting for the foxes to make a reappearance. She wanted to be there if they did.

  Once outside, she walked slowly toward him. He watched her the entire time, his gaze unreadable for once.

  “You saw them,” he said in a low voice when she joined him.

  “Yes. They were beautiful.” She gazed at the undergrowth on the other side of the lawn, but saw no movement. It was only she and Rick alone in the early dawn. “Will they come back?”

  “Not once they’ve had a meal,” he replied, chuckling. “Although the little ones are getting bolder. George used to have to carry the food back to them because they would stay right at the underbrush there.”

  She glanced at him. “George?”

  He nodded. “The mother’s dead, I think. Fiona would come regularly with George until she had the kits this spring. She made two appearances since, then no more. George has been keeping the family together.”

  Jill smiled sadly. “With a little help from a friend.”

  “I’ve been feeding Old Dad there since he was a kit. But don’t tell anybody. Otherwise I’ll be drummed out of the local pub. We’re very country here and the fox is considered a predator. I figure if I feed him, hell leave my lambs alone. He does, and he keeps the other varmit population down in my fields. I don’t tempt him by keeping chickens, though. I think that would be too much for George. And George would be too much for Daisy, so I keep her penned up or out with the sheep at night.”

  “I expect so. What are the kits’ names?”

  He shrugged. “Haven’t named them yet.”

  She wasn’t fooled. “You’re afraid you’ll become attached to them if you do, you softy.”

  “It’s a hazardous life for them,” he admitted, smiling at her keen perception. “George had a leg break. It healed slowly, and I expect he holds it out stiff more from habit. I’ve often wondered if he was caught in some trap. We’ve lost too many foxes to farm growth and pesticides. I think we need to ensure we don’t lose them all.”

  She nodded, touched by his words. “They used to be plentiful in Pennsylvania, but now they’re completely gone from my area because of suburban growth. How I wish they weren’t.”

  “You can come down every morning while you’re here, if you like,” he offered. “George and the kits show up at the first crack of dawn, like clockwork.”

  She smiled, tempted by the invitation—and refusing to admit it was more than wild foxes that lured her. “I just might.”

  “I hope you do.”

  His voice changed, softer and lower in timbre. The easy companionship slowly became something more primitive. A part of her told her to get away, and a part of her wanted desperately to succumb to dangerous emotions.

  “So, why haven’t you ever found a mate?” she asked, keeping her tone light. It was a normal question, she told herself, not one prompted by a burning curiosity.

  He made a face, then cleared his throat. “Actually, there was one
or two who I thought … but they didn’t like the country life.”

  “They were nuts,” Jill said. “I don’t think there’s any better life than the one you have. You’re working with life, putting down deep roots in the soil. You’re providing for others in a way that hasn’t changed for centuries. And you know who you are. A lot of times I feel as if I’m marking time in a frantic world, not really living. I’m a medieval kind of gal, I guess.”

  He chuckled. “There ought to be more like you.”

  She felt suddenly awkward and wished she’d left her curiosity alone.

  “What about you, Jill?” he asked. “Is there someone back home?”

  “I’m divorced.”

  “That doesn’t answer the question.”

  She shrugged. “It does.”

  “Was it bitter?”

  “I was stupid,” she said, oddly irritated by his interest. “He was obsessed with garnering power through wealth, including mine. I didn’t realize how little he cared for anything until he sold his family home without blinking an eye, just because the price was right. He dumped me when I didn’t look good on the résumé anymore. Being suddenly considered inadequate doesn’t make one want to run out and immediately repeat the experience.”

  She stopped, realizing just how much of herself she had revealed to him. Why couldn’t she have lied about a someone or said she’d had no time? She must have left her brains back in the States.

  Rick was staring at her, those damned eyes of his holding her captive and seeing every hidden facet of her. He touched her cheek, just like the day before. The gesture was so tender and so unexpected, that this time she did curl into it. She closed her eyes and savored the way his fingers cupped her jaw, then tilted her face up to his. She had never wanted to be kissed more in her life than at that moment. Whatever sensible thoughts she had flew away when his mouth covered hers.

  The kiss was soft at first and exciting in its subtlety. His lips were gentle, questing, drawing her into his spell. She knew she ought to resist the sweetness of it, she knew she ought to protest the rightness of it, but Rick pulled her closer. Her breasts pressed against his chest, and his hands spread across her back, holding her tightly to him. Their tongues surged together, the heat of their mouths breaking the last of her resistance. She gave a tiny moan and wound her arms around his shoulders, delighting in the strength she felt under the casual tweed jacket.

  His skin was warm to her touch, and her fingers threaded through the thick hair that brushed his collar. His mouth turned hungry on hers, pulling her into a darkening mist of desire. He caressed her spine, the cotton no protection against the sensations he was creating. His fingers curved around her shoulder, then traveled down her side until they found the first roundness of her breast. Her blood slowed and throbbed, and without any thought other than the need for his touch, she turned herself into his hand.

  Her flesh seemed to swell in his palm, and her nipple tightened under the deft touch of his fingers. She moaned … and then she realized what she was doing.

  Her eyes flew open just as he broke the kiss.

  He stepped away and said in a stiff voice. “I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

  “Of course not,” she agreed, wishing she had pulled away first. How could she have been so stupid?

  “I don’t know what came over me,” he added. “You’re a guest in my house, and I behaved badly. I won’t forget my manners again.”

  He seemed to be too gentlemanly, she thought, as if she had thrown herself at him, yet manners required him to take the blame. She ought to be grateful he had just promised not to pursue the matter. She needed to stay as far away from him as possible. So why was she feeling irritated and deprived?

  She forced herself to shrug casually. “We’re single. It’s spring. Don’t worry about it, Rick.”

  “Right.”

  He grimaced. Jill frowned, but set any hesitation aside. Now was the moment when she could finally and gracefully give in to the desperate urge to get away from him.

  “I’d better go back inside.”

  He nodded. “I have to get to work anyway. I’ll be in for breakfast later.”

  “Sure.” She walked away slowly, tucking her cotton robe around her. There was a devil at Devil’s Hall, she mused, and his name was Rick Kitteridge.

  “A rail strike!”

  Rick nodded, surprised at the women’s consternation. “Today is rail strike day. You won’t be able to take the train into London.”

  Jill shook her head. “And this happens once a week?”

  “Like clockwork.” He grinned, admiring the way her nose crinkled when she frowned. Earlier that morning she had looked young and vulnerable in her cotton nightgown. It had been soft under his fingers. So had she. Now she looked very sophisticated in a blue soft knit dress. It clung in all the right places. So had her mouth in that fiery kiss. Breakfast had never been so enjoyable.

  “We Brits,” he added, “are too polite to incapacitate ourselves completely, so we just indulge in a little annoyance. You can always go sightseeing tomorrow.”

  “But we have to—” Jill stopped abruptly, hesitated, then said, “I mean, it throws our schedule for sightseeing completely off.”

  “Looks like you’ll have to drive after all, Jill,” Lettice said, sighing in resignation. “I’ll navigate.”

  “Lord help me,” Jill muttered.

  “Nobody’s navigating anybody,” Rick said sternly. Both women merely raised their eyebrows at his tone. He realized they were quite prepared to go anyway. He sighed and mentally kissed the farm good-bye. “I’ll drive you to London, if you insist on going.”

  “No!” Jill and his grandmother exclaimed at the same time. They looked at each other in dismay.

  Rick’s suspicion level rose one hundred notches.

  “I know you’re very busy,” Jill said, “with the farm and—”

  “And I know,” he interrupted, “how tired you are from the flight—”

  “I’m fine.” She smiled brightly. “In fact, I feel terrific today. It’s beautiful outside. Don’t worry. I can get your grandmother there and back in one piece.”

  “You forget, I’ve seen you try to turn me into two pieces—”

  “How was I to know you were skulking in the garage?” she asked indignantly.

  “You weren’t,” he admitted, then glared at her. “And I wasn’t skulking. But it’s a long trip, and you just drove it the other day.”

  He hadn’t wanted to mention the incident at the garage, hadn’t wanted to think about his first touch of her satiny skin and how it had made him long for more. He’d nearly kissed her then—until she’d casually mentioned a man she was to look up. That had shot off a bullet of jealousy that would match any adolescent boy’s over his first girl. And that had led to this morning’s kiss. It had fulfilled every promise, and created a wealth of others. She had turned him inside out. Now he’d better turn himself right-side in. He had no claim, and he’d better have no interest. Besides, he ought to be paying attention to whatever she and his grandmother were not telling him about this trip. He had a feeling it was trouble.

  “Rick, don’t be silly,” his grandmother said in the sweetest of voices. “You have a farm that demands all of your time—”

  “And I have a farm manager for times like this,” he snapped back.

  “And I said I am perfectly capable of driving,” Jill broke in firmly. Her jaw was set and her eyes were glittering with suppressed anger. He realized she possessed an unexpected core of steel.

  The argument was ridiculous, he acknowledged. However, a little common sense wasn’t about to stop it. “Either I drive you or you wait until the trains are back running again, because I will remove the keys from your car so you can’t drive. Now, let’s stop being obtuse.”

  Jill was silent for one long moment as she stared at him, then she sat back in the dining room chair and patted her mouth with her napkin. It was an interesting movement, he decided, wat
ching in fascination. He could watch all day. Her eyes widened slightly, the only indication that a thought had occurred to her. She tilted her head and gave him a benign smile. “Then you will drive.”

  “Good.”

  The only problem was he didn’t feel good. Instead, he felt as if he’d just been conned. And he didn’t like it.

  Why did he have to be so damned attractive? Jill wondered, her attention straying from the Waterford crystal vase she was holding to Rick’s profile. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched him frown at a display. From her angle, it was just a bare curve of the eyebrow and a minute turning down of the mouth that gave away his expression. He had a strong jawline. Her fingers ached to touch it, to follow its curve. She knew his lips could be gentle in one second and demanding in the next. Both kinds of kisses had been haunting her thoughts all morning. She had felt them on her mouth, her body. Every inch of her skin had been covered by his phantom kisses, the passion rising.…

  “I didn’t think going to Liberty’s was sightseeing.”

  Jill nearly dropped the vase as his voice broke through her daydreaming. It took two catches before it was securely back in her hands.

  He grinned. “Drop that and you’ll have to take out a mortgage.”

  “Probably two,” she agreed, ruthlessly suppressing the heat rising to her cheeks. What she was thinking was bad enough, but he didn’t have to know it. She refused to be rattled by him and his kisses, real or imagined. Composing her jittery nerves as best she could, she carefully set the vase back on the shelf. “And we’re taking a break from sightseeing to go shopping, Rick.”

  “But we haven’t even started yet.”

  He was staring at her in that intense way again. She sighed inwardly. He was so perceptive. And sexy. She was going to have to do something about these stares of his. They were distracting. He was distracting. Instead of mooning over his kiss, she should be thinking about how to get away from him and get to Mr. Havilan at Whitehall. When Rick had insisted on driving them, she had decided to play it by ear in regard to Mr. Havilan. But now her appointment was in little more than an hour. The “ear” better present itself shortly, or she’d be in big trouble.