Linda Castle (18 page)

Every nerve along his body sprang to life and he knew she was kneeling beside him. The hair along his nape prickled while his body became instantly attuned to her—ravenously hungry for her.

He knew it was a mistake, but he turned toward her. Their lips were only inches apart. He stared at her lush mouth. “When did you find this carving?”

“After I bandaged your hand.” She touched it with her fingertips and as they grazed along his palm an involuntary shudder pulsed through him. “The likeness is striking.”

“It might’ve been, ten years ago.” He watched her smile uncomfortably and wondered how long it would
be before she shoved the spectacles up from the tip of her nose. “Connie, I have to tell you something.”

“What, Temple?” A droplet of water dripped from her disheveled hair and landed on his outstretched palm.

“In case I don’t get another chance, I want you to know that I—well, I admire you.” The words nearly stuck in his throat before he managed to get them said.

“You do?” Her eyes widened and he saw the flecks of gold. “You admire…me?”

“In more ways than you can imagine. You have shown a lot of grit and skill.” He gave her a twisted grin that was an expression of unease and amazement “You have grown up, Connie.” He closed his fingers over the small carving in his hand and drew in a shuddering breath.

His words swept over her like a warm wind. He had acknowledged the fact she was no longer a child. The carving was concealed in his wide palm, but the truth was revealed in his eyes. A lock of wet hair dangled over his damp forehead, nearly touching his long water-spiked black lashes. Without thought she swept the strand of hair back with her fingertips.

He shuddered.

“Thank you for finally noticing.”

“Oh, I’ve noticed.” His nervous bark of laughter sent a shudder through her body.

Her knees turned to liquid and she would have collapsed in a heap at his boots if she had not been gripping the lid of the trunk for support. She gulped down her astonishment. “You did?

“Uh-huh.”

“When?”

“When you fell into the lake. The way that ridiculous
dress clung to your body, I would have had to be dead and buried not to notice.”

His eyes flicked toward her bosom and heat rushed into her cheeks. Warm tendrils of satisfaction began to grow inside her.

“Temple, I’m glad that I came. No matter who wins, no matter how this turns out, I’m glad that we had this time together.”

He let out a little groan while his gaze slid over her face. “Connie, I have to leave now…I don’t want—I can’t let—I must go.”

She reached out and stroked his beard-roughened cheek with her fingers. “If you leave now we’ll both be sorry. I—I want you to stay with me—all night.”

His deep moan escaped his mouth. The sound of it wrenched her heart.

“Connie, you don’t know what you’re asking.”

“Yes, I do.” She smiled and started undoing the buttons on the front of her mud-slicked dress.

Temple licked his lips and glanced once more at the opening of the tent. Then he sighed as if he had finally lost a great struggle. He reached out and took Connie’s fingers from the buttons. Then, with agonizingly slow precision, he began to undo them himself.

Constance’s flesh warmed and tingled beneath the dress. Each time a button slipped free of the cloth she shuddered. He pulled the bodice open by small degrees, until finally she was standing before him in nothing more than her drawers.

He narrowed his eyes and flicked a hot hungry look down to her booted feet.

“Connie, you are a beautiful lady,” he whispered. Then he bent down on his knees and lifted one foot. He placed it on top of his knee, smearing mud on his
trousers. “And a lady should have a man to do this for her.”

Constance swallowed hard and stared at the top of Temple’s damp head. A million unfamiliar and wonderful emotions were exploding inside her. She felt a moment of light-headedness and found herself gripping the tops of his shoulders for support. He gazed at her with a look of smoldering desire.

“I promise you, Connie, I will be gentle, I will make it as good for you as I can.”

He placed her bare foot on the ground and picked up her other boot, then he repeated the process. Each minute he spent unlacing the mud-caked boot seemed like an eternity while Constance watched the lantern light shimmer on his dark head. Her palms burned where she touched his shoulders and butterflies filled her middle.

When he was finished, he stood up and kissed her until she felt all her bones turn to gelatin. Then he scooped her up and. she melted into his solid muscular chest. He strode across the dirt floor with her in his arms.

Constance wasn’t quite sure of the sequence of events after Temple deposited her on shaky feet. First her spectacles vanished. Then she had a vague recollection of him running his fingers through her dark hair. She seemed feverish and their familiar surroundings of her tent took on a dreamlike feel as images of Temple’s magnificent form being freed from his muddy shirt and wet trousers filled her mind. And then she was lying in the protective circle of his arms on the narrow cot
“Connie, you are the most lovely creature I have ever seen,” Temple said while he nuzzled her earlobe. “I want to taste every inch of your body.”

And to Connie’s shocked delight, he began to do just that.

T
emple told himself that he had lost his mind, but his arms remained locked around Connie in a protective embrace. He knew he was not worthy of her— knew she would hate him when he claimed Montague’s money, but suddenly all those concerns seemed small and insignificant compared to the pleasure he felt.

She had asked him to stay. She wanted him. The impact of her words settled over him like a warm blanket and that simple request had enabled him to block out the voices from his past and bury himself in their shared passion.

“You are so beautiful.” Her hair had begun to dry and it lay in wild ringlets around her lovely face. The flickering lamp cast shadows across her soft doe’s eyes.

She looked younger without her glasses, more vulnerable. He bent his head and grazed her mouth . lightly. The fresh taste of rainwater lingered on her skin like fine perfume and he hardened even more while he explored her wondrous body.

“Temple, I hope you will not be disappointed. I
have no experience.” There was insecurity and apology in her voice.

He laughed and hugged her. Then he nipped the soft flesh near her throat. “Dearest, only you would think such a thing was a deficiency.” He levered himself up on one elbow so he could get a better view of her face. “Believe it or not, Constance Honoria, I do not expect you to be skilled in everything. There are some men who prefer to teach a woman certain things. I happen to be one of them.”

He touched a hidden part of her body and ribbons of liquid fire coursed through her. Her breath came in shuddering gasps. “Oh my, that was unique.” Her eyes fluttered shut and she sighed while he caressed her neck. “I like it when you call me Connie. Please don’t ever call me anything else.”

“What?” Temple raised his head and stared at her.

“You call me Connie. Nobody else has ever called me that but you, Temple.” She opened her eyes and stared at him with a drowsy heavy-lidded expression. “And you made me laugh when I was a little girl.”

He caught a rare glimpse of the inner woman who had been forced to grow up around a collection of aging academics and old bones. She had never been allowed to laugh. It would be his greatest pleasure to take Connie around the world and see that she laughed—often.

He wished things could be different.

“I thought you hated that nickname.” He watched emotion play across her face. She had no guile, no deceit within her. He felt a sharp pang of guilt knowing that he was going to defeat her. They could have this one night, but when the sun came up they would go back to being competitors.
He had to win the prize.

“I thought I hated the name, but I have come to realize it is really very special to me.” She moved slightly and her nipples grazed against the hair on his chest.

His pulse quickened at the gentle friction. “Connie, sweet, sweet Connie.” He kissed her again, but this time it was not a gentle touch of lips. He allowed himself to drink deeply—to taste her while he moved his body over her. He was ready to fill her.

Constance could not focus on any part of herself. There was too much sensation, too much pleasure springing to life. Temple put his rough hand upon her breast and kneaded her flesh with an expert’s touch. She sighed in contentment, but then he moved that warm and magical hand to a new location. It was as if he were restless, hungry, and each new touch brought a thousand sleeping nerves to life.

While she lay beneath him and feeling a new world of sensation being born she forgot about her awkward lack of knowledge. Temple kissed her and she tentatively explored the inside of his warm mouth with her tongue. And then, miraculously, as if she somehow did know what to do, her body was arching toward him.

Something hot and silken nudged against her throbbing body and she felt herself moving toward it with a natural rhythm that seemed to match Temple’s movements perfectly. He kissed her once again and she felt a growing sensation of heat and need deep within her. It was a burning, a yearning that was impossible to describe.

“Oh, Connie, why did we wait so long?” Temple’s breath had grown hot. His tongue flicked across her earlobe. “We have wasted so much time,”

“I didn’t know it was like this,” she murmured thickly.

“It never has been like this with anyone, before,” Temple mumbled more to himself than to her. That truth sent a searing wave rolling over him. He had been with many women, but he had never felt this intensity—this desire to bring satisfaction to his partner. Confusion and a little fear crept into Temple’s mind, but he shoved it away and explored the hollow of Connie’s throat with his lips. He wanted to hold her—to worship her with his body until the sun came up.

To Constance, it seemed as if the canvas walls of the tent had disappeared. She was floating somewhere weightless, on a cloud of pure physical sensation. She could hear the steady beat of rain outside the tent but it had no reality for her. Nothing in the world existed or mattered except the world of excitement that Temple had created for her within his arms.

A fine sheen of sweat glistened on Connie’s skin when Temple positioned himself between her thighs. She opened her eyes, which were soft and languid with passion. A shaft of tenderness pierced his heart.

“Connie—I would not hurt you for the world.” His voice was harsh.

“I know that, Temple.” She licked her lips and her eyes fluttered shut once again.

“Look at me, Connie, open your eyes. I want you to look at me while I love you.” Waves of moist heat emanated from the juncture of her silken thighs where his own flesh throbbed and waited with need.

She opened her eyes as he asked. He raised himself and took his weight onto his forearms while he pressed his hot hardened flesh against her.

“Keep looking at me, Connie.” His voice was husky and low.

“I will.” She gripped his shoulders. Nervous tension combined with barely harnessed desire telegraphed through her fingers. He was all power and passion and it took her breath away.

Temple closed his own eyes for a moment, while he tried to master the lust swirling and surging within him. Connie hissed in pain and his eyes flew open. She was staring at him with a wide, questioning expression and he knew that he had caused her pain.

“I’m sorry.” If he could have prevented this one minute of discomfort he would have. “It will last only a moment—then it will be gone. I promise. Do you trust me?”

“Yes.” She managed a quivering smile.

His tenuous control was slipping, but finally she began to relax beneath him.

“That’s it, Connie, slow and easy.” Temple swallowed hard and steeled himself. He would not allow himself to weaken until he brought her as far as she could journey this first time. He saw her lids flutter. “No—don’t close your eyes, darling.”

She opened her eyes and he pushed his shaft past the warm barrier of flesh. Her sharp intake of breath and a welling of tears ripped at the heart he thought was impenetrable to such things. Passion and some feeling that Temple did not want to examine flooded through him. She managed a trembling smile and raised her head to kiss him.

Pride and happiness that he was her first lover poured through him. But then a voice inside his head asked if he were man enough to be her last.

“Temple, that was…” She gasped and arched higher.

He felt the gentle nudge of her against his hips and nearly let himself go. Only his great desire to see her satisfied held him in check long enough. Then when her tense body began to grow less rigid he drove into her as hard as he dared. And while the storm raged outside, Temple allowed himself the bliss of loving sweet Connie.

Lightning illuminated the inside of the tent with a blue-white flash. Temple looked at Connie, sated and languid within the crook of his arms. He leaned over and kissed her forehead.

“Thank you,” he said softly.

Her eyes came slowly open and the most beautiful smile Temple had ever seen blossomed across her face. “For what?”

“For asking me to stay.”

“There is still a lot of night left.” She nuzzled closer and twined her fingertips in the hair on his chest.

“Why, Constance Honoria, I do believe you are trying to tempt me,” he said in mock horror.

“Is it working?” she asked.

He took her hand and wrapped it around his rigid shaft. “What do you think?”

Connie yawned and stretched her forearm but came in contact with a rough jawbone. She blinked and came wide awake. Temple was indeed beside her and the events of last night were not a delicious and forbidden dream.

“Morning.” His voice was gruff as it vibrated through her nude body.

“I—I’m sorry to wake you,” she stammered, not really embarrassed about what had happened between them, but unsure of how she should act after so brazen a display.

“You didn’t. I’ve been awake for a while.” He opened one eye and his lips turned up at the corners in a grin. “Sounds like the rain has finally stopped.”

“Uh, yes, it has.” Connie levered herself up, clutching the blanket to her chest. She saw Temple’s brows come up and knew he was amused by her awkwardness.

“I’ll close my eyes if it will make you feel better,” he teased.

Heat scorched her cheeks. “If you don’t mind?” “Not at all, Connie.” He met her glance. With his pet name for her feeling like a soft caress, she nearly tumbled back into his arms. She shook herself and sat up. When Temple closed his eyes, she scurried across the tent floor and found her gown. She slipped the fabric over her head. “All right, you can open them now.”

“I already did.” He was sitting on the edge of the bed staring. He had been watching her the whole time.

“Temple, you are unscrupulous and cannot be trusted!”

“Temple is a pirate, awrk.” The squawk came from inside the shawl-draped cage.

Constance was grateful for the bird’s interruption. It gave her an excuse to be doing something besides staring at Temple. “Livingstone is ready to get out for a while.”

She went to the cage and took off the shawl. Livingstone
ruffled his feathers and stretched his wings. When she opened the door he hopped out upon her shoulder.

“Connie, you are a lovely, awrk, creature” he squawked.

“What did he say?” Temple stood, and Constance felt her eyes riveted to his nude form.

“I—I guess he was listening.”

“Taste every inch…awrk.” The bird paced up and down her arm.

“Damn mimic,” Temple commented.

“He gets bored, I think.”

Livingstone flapped from Connie’s shoulder to the crate where the lantern still burned. She bent near the chimney and blew it out, not knowing what to say to Temple since her pet had obviously decide to mimic their words of passion.

“We must have forgotten to do that last night.”

“We were busy with other—” Temple speared her with a glance that was openly carnal “—more pleasurable pursuits.”

“Sweet, sweet, Connie, awrk. Look at me—open your eyes.” Livingstone said loudly.

Constance longed for something to say, but she seemed tongue-tied. She knew it was ridiculous to be acting like a prim maid in light of what had happened, but now with Livingstone repeating what they said she felt her cheeks burning with heat. Temple flashed a narrowed gaze at Livingstone just as the bird hopped to the tent floor and meandered through his discarded clothing. When the bird flapped back to the crate he held a folded white paper clasped in his sharp beak.

“Oh, Temple, he has your letter.” Constance snatched the paper from Livingstone’s hold before he
destroyed it. She held it out to Temple. “I guess you forgot to read it.”

He grinned at her second reference to how forgetful they had been, but Connie’s expression of distress made him remain silent. She was fidgeting and her cheeks blazed with heat each time he caught her eye.

He didn’t know if he should laugh or wring the damned bird’s neck, but watching Connie blush prettily only made him want to get her back into his arms—he certainly wasn’t interested in reading some damned letter. But he took it from her hand and ripped it open.

Temple scanned the page and Constance saw his mien change in the blink of an eye. “Is it—bad news?” She took a step toward him.

Without a word he stood up, leaving the letter open on the cot. His nakedness seemed to be inconsequential to him as he strode across the floor and picked up his trousers where Livingstone had been rummaging through them. Constance, however, was not so unmoved by the sight of his lean muscular body. A flaring hunger entered her middle. When he pulled his trousers over his narrow buttocks she felt a pang of disappointment. He still had his back to her when he slipped on his shirt. Constance glanced away before he turned and caught her leering at him.

Her gaze fell upon the open letter. The handwriting was large and unfamiliar. Without conscious thought she found herself reading the letter.

Mr. Parish, after our meeting I did a little digging of my own. I have unearthed some facts concerning the crime that occurred ten years ago. Contact me as soon as possible—it could be important for your career. Thaddeus Ball.

She picked up the page. “Temple, who is Thaddeus Ball and what crime is he referring to?”

Temple’s shoulders stiffened. He felt the burning lump in his throat grow. Last night he had actually believed that he and Connie might find a future together, but the blackmail note had squelched that idea.

He continued to dress, pulling his suspenders into place without turning to face her. He could not face her—could not tell her the sordid story of his past, or how it kept tainting his life. How could he tell her? If she knew what he had been like in his youth—the things he had done—she would be ashamed of him, and the one thing he could not withstand would be Connie’s rejection.

“Temple?” she asked more insistently. “What is this all about?” When he finally turned, she saw something haunted in his eyes, something that made her take a step backward.

“Mr. Ball is referring to the reason I left ten years ago.

“A crime?” She glanced at the letter held in her trembling hand. “You left because—you committed—a crime?” The words came out in a stuttering jumble. Connie was about to add, I
don’t believe it,
but the icy rage that flared in his eyes froze the words in her throat.