Make Me Love You (21 page)

“Are you sure the daughter isn’t simpleminded, too?”

“I doubt I would have cared.”

What a sad thing for him to say. “Do you really aspire so low?”

“What else is there?”

“Happiness, love, children.”

“That sounds like what you might aspire to.”

“But not you?”

“Love is fleeting, as is happiness. I would have got around to having some children, though. I just wasn’t in a hurry for them.”

“Cynical—at the least, not very optimistic, are you? But happiness and love are possible. Whether they last is entirely up to you. Surely you could agree with that?”

He snorted. “That both require work?”

“Not so much work as a little effort. Or maybe nothing a’tall except acceptance. Sometimes you have to believe you can attain something to attain it.”

He raised a single brow. “A philosopher, too? Aren’t you full of surprises.”

She wasn’t put off by his derisive tone. “As for you not caring whether your wife is simpleminded or not, I highly doubt
you’d want that trait passed down to your children, so that statement is false. You would care.”

“I’m not getting a chance to find out, am I?”

She stiffened. The subject had just turned on them, and this was not the place to get into that argument again, when she couldn’t move without touching him, when she felt him against her knees, his legs bent enough to touch her entire right flank and hip. She wouldn’t even be able to get out of here without crawling over him.

Wisely, she didn’t rise to the bait. She opened the sack of blankets, took out two more, and handed him one. He folded his to use as a pillow and put his head on it. He still had to keep his knees bent, or his feet would have been out in the rain.

“Get some sleep,” he said. “It will be morning soon enough. And if the ghosts wake you, ignore them.”

She stared. “
What
ghosts?”

“Some of these old castle and guard-tower ruins are reputed to be haunted. I never believed it m’self, but you never know.”

“Is this one reputed to be haunted?”

“I don’t know. But in any case, ghosts are harmless, so no screaming. I don’t wake well to screaming.”

She rolled her eyes. If he hadn’t added that, she might have thought he was serious. She couldn’t guess what he was up to tonight, teasing, telling obvious whoppers, almost as if he’d grown comfortable with her—even as he still tried to push her away.

But she did
not
want to lie down next to him, even though he’d closed his eyes, letting her know he was done talking. And she didn’t think she could sleep sitting up, much as she would like to. No longer the least bit cold, a little too warm in fact with the thought of sleeping beside him, she draped the other
blanket over her anyway and lay down carefully on her side, facing away from him.

She had to bend her knees, too, because his legs were blocking her from doing anything else. But she didn’t have enough room on her side to bend her legs without leaving her backside pressed against him. She was mortified. She hoped he was asleep and didn’t notice that she was touching him again and wriggling around as she tried to get comfortable and couldn’t!

“If you’re not still in the next second, we’re not going to be sleeping tonight.”

She wasn’t exactly sure what he meant by that, but she immediately stopped moving. Her last thought before she drifted off was that it was pleasant to feel his warmth all around her as the wind howled and the rain continued to pour down outside their ancient shelter.

B
ROOKE AWOKE TO FIND
herself twisted all around Dominic, but he was likewise twisted around her. How the deuce had they slept like this?

Brooke realized she must have turned toward him in her sleep because her head was tucked between his arm and his chest. One of his legs was stretched out with his foot outside their cubbyhole, but it had stopped raining. His other leg was bent between hers. She was sure that her leg on which his was resting was quite numb. But she was hesitant to move and find out because she was going to be utterly mortified if he woke and found her positioned this way—cuddled up to him as if she wanted to be sleeping this close to him.

“You slept through the noise.”

She squeezed her eyes shut as if that might stop the color from shooting up her cheeks. “What noise?” she squeaked, thinking of the ghosts he’d mentioned.

“The horses bred during the night.”

Her eyes flared. “They did?!”

He leaned up on his elbow, which made her head slide down to his forearm but allowed him to look down at her. “You’re not displeased?”

“On the contrary. I intend to own my own horse farm someday. This will be a good start.”

“Who says you get to keep the foal? I charge five hundred pounds to stud Royal.”

“Since I didn’t contract for that, and it’s your fault for not hobbling your stud for the night, you can forgo that charge.”

“Is that so?” He ran the back of a finger slowly along her cheek. “But husbands and wives find other ways to negotiate.”

“We’re not—”
Married yet
got lost under his mouth.

She didn’t try to turn her face away, not with her future horse farm apparently at stake. Then she stopped thinking about that altogether.

The taste of him was intoxicating. She parted her lips, letting in his tongue. Her hand curled around his neck under his queue, gently caressing him. His moved down her neck to her chest and hovered over one of her breasts. He merely slid his palm over the tip, making her nipple peak and sending tingling sensations all the way down to her toes. Only then did his fingers close around her breast and squeeze gently.

She might have gasped, his hand felt so nice there. She might have asked him not to stop. But, in any case, his kisses deepened and turned more passionate. His knee rose up between her legs until it pressed against the apex of her thighs. She did gasp this time but it was lost under his mouth. The pleasurable sensation he’d just evoked stayed with her though, and she felt the strongest urge to rub her body against his. Thrilled and overwhelmed as his tongue thrust in and out of her mouth and his hand caressed her breasts, she felt urges that
made no sense to her clambering through her body. Yet they were so confined in this narrow space with no room to maneuver, no room to get at what she wanted. She was trapped with him leaning over her, but he could actually . . .

Suddenly the kissing stopped.

“No, as much as you might want me to, I’m not going to make love to you. If I do, you’ll never leave Rothdale.”

It took her a moment to realize that he was boasting about his sexual prowess. He’d even smiled when he said it! She raised a brow. “You think you’re that good in bed?”

“In bed, so I’ve been told. In this decidedly primitive place?” He shrugged, but still said, “Probably.”

She felt like laughing or hitting him with something. Was he serious or just teasing her again? The smile suggested the latter, and she thought again that he must be feeling more comfortable with her, might even be starting to like her a little. But it was a brief thought. Considering everything said and done, she had to doubt it. Then she gasped. Had he just accused her of
lusting
after him?

“What makes you think I want—?”

He put his finger to her lips to silence her. “There’s no point in protesting when it’s in your eyes, in your soft touch. But if you think that will magically make me love you, you’re wrong.”

He sat up, apparently ready to leave.

Angry that such amazing kissing could end like this, she said, “You’re
not
going to blame me for what just happened.”

“I don’t. I blame your horse. It’s been a long time since I listened to horses breeding. It’s quite primal.”

He gazed into her eyes when he said that in such a way that she was a bit entranced by him. The feral gleam she sometimes saw in his eyes wasn’t dangerous now, it was quite passionate.
For a moment, she thought he desired her. But then she dismissed that thought, too.

He smiled again, though this time it seemed mocking when he added, “Obviously I’m not going to mind having you in my bed, but I give you fair warning, you’ll never be trusted out of it. You’re not going to find love or happiness here, Brooke Whitworth. Children, possibly more than you want, but nothing else. You still have time to flee.”

Yes, of course she did. At least, he
thought
she did. Maybe she should tell him about her father’s threat to consign her to a lunatic asylum. Or maybe she should poison Dominic as her brother wanted. She was definitely in a mood to poison him right now.

She stood up as he went out to saddle the horses. She stuffed the blankets back in the empty sack, then grabbed the other. She paused though and emptied the sack of food for the white dog in case it was still around or came back to the ruins after they left. She wasn’t hungry. She hoped Dominic was.

She’d already seen that the sun was shining, but it felt wonderful to step out into it. What a difference the sun made. The landscape had looked so daunting last night. Now it looked fresh and beautiful, although a few big puddles were in the courtyard. She looked around, but she didn’t see the white dog anywhere, though Wolf was running around sniffing everywhere.

“I’m glad I found you.”

Did she really just hear that? With Dominic’s back to her while he tightened cinches on the saddle, she couldn’t be sure. It implied something quite different from what he’d said inside the cubbyhole.

“Why?” she said breathlessly.

“Because your demise on the moors would have gotten the Prince exactly what he wants—a reason to strip me of all tangibles and toss me in prison or hang me.”

What an unromantic subject to raise! She should have known better than to attribute meanings to his words that couldn’t possibly be true.

But as to what he’d actually meant, she said, “I doubt that. The Prince currently stands on the moral high ground and is being supported for trying to save lives. He wouldn’t accuse you and imprison you for something you didn’t do.”

Dominic laughed derisively. “Royals through the ages resort to any means—”

“And by the by, why didn’t you give up looking for me last night? You must have ridden for hours in that rain.”

“I did—and was tempted to.”

That didn’t exactly answer her question, but he was holding out his hand to help her up on her horse. She walked toward him but ignored his offer, able to get on Rebel herself. It just wouldn’t be very ladylike, but nothing about this situation was!

Putting her foot in the stirrup, she persisted, “So why didn’t—you?” She ended in a gasp when he put his hands on her buttocks and shoved her the rest of the way into the saddle.

“Self-preservation, as I’ve just explained.” He walked back to tie the supplies to his saddle.

When they were both mounted and just beyond the ruins, she glanced back, wondering if the beautiful white dog would reveal itself now so it could watch them leave. Wondering again about where the dog lived, she asked Dominic, “Does Ian Shaw breed dogs?”

“No.

“You’re sure?”

“I made sure when I found Wolf.”

So the dog must indeed be lost. She supposed she could come this way again sometime when rain wasn’t imminent, to try to help it find its way home. It was the least she could do after the dog had helped her find shelter from the storm.

“D
ON
’
T YOU
ever
scare me like that again,” Alfreda cried as she ran toward Brooke, who was standing at the entrance to the stable.

“I’m fine. I had some unusual help. I’ll tell you about it later.”

“At least Lord Wolfe found you. I’m inclined to think more kindly of him now.”

Brooke snorted. “Don’t. The only reason he went to look for me was because he was afraid the Prince would hang him if I died on the moors.”

Wolf had followed her out of the stable as if he were still tracking her. But this was the first time he’d gotten close to her since he and Dominic had found her, and she glanced down to see him sniffing her shoes once again and whining. Really?