Simmer All Night (15 page)

She didn't want to marry Lord Welby, but she might have been reckless enough, impatient enough, to accept him.

"Oh, Cole. Don't you just love the rain?"

The sky had opened up by now with rain falling in torrents, and the temperature had taken a steep drop. Cole shot her a look that questioned her sanity. "Sure I love the rain," he replied. "On a hot summer day, or when it comes to break a drought. That's not the case here though, is it? If it isn't raining already in England, it's about to." He pointed toward Chrissy's bare feet. "I wouldn't be surprised if the people who live around here didn't grow webs between their toes."

Chrissy wiggled hers. "Don't be such a baby, Morgan. You're not sugar. A little rain won't make you melt."

He was staring at her feet when he grumbled, "No, but I'm afraid you could."

"What?"

He closed his eyes and shook his head hard. "Nothing. Never mind. I think all this wet is making my brain misfire." He took a seat on the stone bench opposite her and said, "So, I heard this Melton fellow who I'm supposed to contact isn't going to make it to the house party, after all."

It pained Chrissy to allow that brain misfire remark to pass without comment, but she felt too mellow to spoil the mood. "A message arrived with word that Lord Melton is ill. Hopefully he'll have a quick recovery and we can speak with him at another time."

Cole told her news about Parkwood, then asked, "What about that fellow Bennet? Did you talk your grandfather into sending an invitation off to him?"

Chrissy nodded. Bennet was a lead Lord Welby had given her, the baron who owned the herd of longhorns. "The note went out this morning. Grandfather expects Lord Bennet to accept. Apparently the fellow has coveted an invitation to Hartsworth for years." She hesitated just a moment and added, "This is the first thing I have asked of my grandfather that he hasn't been thrilled to do."

Cole pursed his lips. "You know, I've been wondering about that. Your mother always said the earl was a strict disciplinarian. Seems to me you have him wrapped around your finger like a candy bow."

"I can't argue with you."

"Sure you can," he quipped. "You do it all the time."

She sent him a chiding look. "I mean about my grandfather. It's as if he's a different person than the man my mother described."

"Perhaps losing Elizabeth to Texas the way he did taught him something."

Chrissy's mood went as damp as the weather. Glumly, she said, "It's a shame my mother didn't learn the same lesson. She didn't mind 'losing' me to England one little bit."

Cole's sigh rippled across the room. "I was hoping we were through with that topic for a time, but since you've brought it up again there is something I want to ask. Something I can't figure out. Are you happy living here in England, Christina?"

"You brought her name up, not me." Then, shrugging, she addressed his question. "I find it fascinating to live in a mansion surrounded by treasures and interesting people. Grandfather dotes on me, which I admit is nice, and the gentlemen make it entertaining."

"That part I have picked up on. You're still collecting more than your share of kisses."

For almost a full minute, the only sound to be heard was the splatter of rain against the roof. Chrissy mourned the loss of peace she'd felt moments ago, and she was tempted to make light of the subject he'd introduced. But rather than a quip, when she rose, crossed to the doorway, and stood staring toward Hartsworth's grand southern facade, she wrapped her arms around herself and spoke from her heart. "This is a beautiful place to visit, but it's not home, Cole. It's not home."

He absorbed her statement for a moment before asking, "Will you try to make it one?" She turned as he approached her, and he reached out to tuck a damp strand of fiery hair behind her ear. "Do you believe you are suited to being a lord's lady and living in his castle? Can you be happy doing that?"

"Maybe," she replied, resisting the urge to shiver at his touch. "I'll certainly try. I don't want to fail again, and at least here I'm wanted."

He sighed in exasperation and his voice was tight as he said, "You give new meaning to the word stubborn. It's not that they don't want you, and you know it. Jake and your mother love you. I'm certain they miss you terribly by now."

His words wiped the smile from her face and left her feeling cold for the first time since the rain came. Rubbing her hands up and down her arms, she said, "I seriously doubt that. They were content to have me gone for three years when my father sent me off to school, weren't they? They didn't hesitate to send me away this time, either. No, I'm staying in England. I belong here now. I'll make myself belong. I'll find a lord and become his lady, and I will make England my home."

"Lady Christina," Cole murmured. "Lady Stubborn. Lady Bug."

A grin quirked her lips. Lady Bug. She liked that one.

Fallen leaves skidded into the folly on a cool wind and this time she gave in to the shudder. Cole removed his jacket and draped it over her shoulders. "You should have picked the house over the folly. You'd be cozy and warm right now inside of Hartsworth." He took a seat on the stone bench out of the wind and gestured for her to sit beside him.

She didn't hesitate. One thing about being big like Cole, he gave off a lot of warmth. She scooted toward him. "It's worth being cold to smell the rain, don't you think? Inside the house, all I smell is cigar smoke and furniture wax."

His eyes drifted shut and he drew a deep breath, then held it as if savoring it, before exhaling in a rush. "You need something on your feet," he told her, shifting away.

Chrissy looked at him, her brow furrowed. Why the strange note in the gruffness of his voice? She'd never heard that before. She grabbed his arm and leaned forward, studying him through narrowed eyes. "What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing."

Now he sounded strangled. Nervous, even. Cole Morgan nervous? Imagine that. "Something's wrong."

He scowled at her, but his gaze quickly slid from her eyes down to her lips. In an automatic response, she licked them.

A rumble rose from Cole's throat, a rumble that sounded like a groan. Chrissy's eyes widened at the notion and her heartbeat sped up. She'd often heard groans just like that right before a man tried to steal a kiss. Was Cole Morgan finally seeing her as more than his best friend's kid sister?

The notion both shocked and intrigued her, and the last thoughts about the trouble with her mother melted away. Many years ago this had been her fondest dream. Years ago she'd been more than a little in love with Cole, but he never once looked twice at her.

He was looking twice now. He was staring at her ankles. Hard. Maybe overhearing Welby's marriage proposal had finally made him see her in a new light. Was that panic she spied in his eyes?

If this is true... well... how delicious.

Chrissy decided to test the theory. "You're right, Cole, I do need something on my feet. But my stockings are still soaking wet." Lifting her legs, she twisted around and set her feet in his lap. "Would you rub my toes and warm them up for me?"

She might as well have laid a rattlesnake in his lap.

"Christina." He shoved her legs off his and abruptly stood. "You can't ask a man to do that. It's too familiar."

"But you're not a man, you're Cole. You're almost my brother. Jake would rub my feet if he was here and I asked."

The "not a man" part got to him, Chrissy could tell. He set his jaw, jammed his hands into his pockets, and glared at her. "Jake would tell you you're a forward little filly who needs a firm hand—"

"On my feet."

"Against your behind!" He stalked the length of the folly then back again. "Just when I think you've learned something, you manage to prove me wrong. What is it with you? Does your mind have some sort of behavior timer that only allows you to act properly for so long before the wanton in you explodes?"

"Wanton?" She straightened. A smile played around her lips. "You think I'm wanton?"

"I do."

"A wanton woman?"

"Yes."

The desire to tease him overwhelmed her good sense. Standing, she said, "Hmm... I see. Then maybe I should go back to the house and look for a man who might be wanton, too." Walking toward him, she slightly exaggerated the sway of her hips. Passing by him, she trailed a finger along his arm and added, "Wanton and wanting me."

She took three more steps before he grabbed her wrist and yanked her back. "You've played with fire, Lady Bug. Now it's time you..."

As his mouth swooped down on hers, Chrissy mentally finished the sentence on a sigh.
Burned.

Liquid fire poured from him to her. Heat licked at her, scorched her, and consumed her. His mouth was hard against hers, taking, demanding, ravaging. It was everything she'd always dreamed a kiss could be and more. It was nothing like any kiss any man had given her in the past.

Chrissy reveled in it.

She melted against him, offering herself up, welcoming his passion with a wellspring of her own. Her hands crept up around his neck, her fingers sliding into the silky thickness of his hair. His hands impatiently batted at her bustle, then clamped around her waist. He smelled of rain and man and home, and his name beat a pulse through her mind:
Cole, Cole, Cole.
She was burning, soaring, weeping with the dream of it.

There was a wildness about him, something she'd never seen in him before, an air of reckless need that appealed to something basic in Chrissy. When his lips abandoned hers she moaned a protest, until the drag of his tongue down the length of her neck transformed the sound to one of pleasure. She clasped him tighter and felt the unmistakable sign of his arousal pressing hard against her belly. Inwardly, she gasped.
I
did that to him. To Cole. I'm the one who's stirring him so.

Cole's fingers roved and brushed against her breast, once, twice. Then he cupped her, kneaded her, and Chrissy arched her back in offering. And Cole Morgan took.

Soon she felt a draft against her skin as her dress slipped off her shoulders. His head drifted lower, his mouth trailing wet kisses across the swell of her breasts. With the tug of a ribbon and the scoop of a hand, he bared her completely.

"You're so beautiful."

Chrissy ached, whimpered, when he deliberately reached out and stroked the rough pad of his thumb across the sensitive flesh of her nipple. Ribbons of pleasure fluttered through her and she gasped. And wanted more.

She wanted his mouth on her.

Cole must have heard her unspoken plea. His lips trailed lower. His tongue dragged once, then twice across her aching peak, sending a fierce stab of longing shooting directly to her woman's core. She clutched his head, urging him on.

He fastened his mouth around her and began to suckle.

Chrissy groaned. Deep inside herself, somewhere apart from this whirlwind of sensation, she was shocked. She hadn't known... she hadn't even guessed. Never before had she allowed a man such liberties. Never before had she come close to being tempted. But here, today, in this secluded folly so very far from home, she would willingly, joyfully, give Cole anything he asked. She would yield him anything and everything. Her body. Her innocence. Her heart.

This was Cole Morgan. The man she'd loved half her life.

I'm yours, Cole. Ask me and I'm yours.

But Cole didn't ask.

Cole Morgan let her go.

With a curse, he shoved her away and rolled to his feet. For long, shocking seconds he stood staring at her, his chest rising and falling, his harsh breaths seeming to echo off the folly's stone wall. His gaze lowered to her bosom, the light in his eyes changing, sharpening. Condemning.

And angry hurt washed through Chrissy.

She tugged at her bodice, covering herself, as Cole whirled around and spoke in a tone rough with his own anger now rather than desire. "Dammit.
Dammit."
He thrust his hands through his hair, then clenched them into fists. "What the hell was this? What were we doing?"

"Cole..."

"Sonofabitch, Christina." He turned back to glare at her. "Is this the way you act with all your beaux? It's a wonder you haven't presented your poor mother with a bastard grandbaby by now."

The words plunged into her heart like a knife and Chrissy gasped against the pain. How dare he! It wasn't the first time Cole had used words to hurt her, but it was certainly the worst.

She reacted instinctively, drawing back her arm, and slapping him hard across the cheek. The crack of hand against flesh echoed off the marble walls of the folly.

Head still turned from her blow, he shut his eyes. She blinked back tears. Outside the rain fell in torrents and within Chrissy, a chill seeped into her soul. When Cole finally spoke, he did so in a cold, formal tone. "I apologize. My actions were reprehensible. Rest assured my loss of control will not be repeated."

He left her then, striding outside as though seeking a haven in the storm from the tempest that had wreaked its havoc within. Trembling like a willow in the wind, Chrissy watched him go.

Slowly, she sank to her knees. The marble tile was hard and cold, but the fact barely registered. She didn't weep. She didn't scream. She didn't do much of anything. Chrissy felt distant, deadened, and dazed.

Eventually the sun came out, and she rose, righted herself, then made the trek back to Hartsworth. By the time she reached the house, the numbness had faded and recklessness took its place.

That night at supper, she sat at the opposite end of the table from Cole. Following the sweet course, her grandfather rose from his chair and beamed a smile around the table, asking for his guests' attention. Chrissy watched with dispassionate detachment as he prepared to reveal the decision she'd shared with him a few hours before supper.

The Earl of Thornbury lifted a glass brimming with champagne. "I probably should wait for a formal occasion, but I find I'm too excited to keep quiet. Ladies and gentlemen, it is my great honor to announce the upcoming marriage of the Viscount Welby to my darling granddaughter, Miss Christina Delaney."