Price of Desire (2 page)

If only she could draw that breath, feel the spring air clear her mind.

Then she stopped, froze
.

Why?

Heat
.
Passion
.
Life.

Each one drew her, held her, entrapped her.

This was her chance
.
She would not get another.

Could she choose to live
?
To go against all she’d been taught?

She closed her eyes, blocked out her pain, let the flares flicker into flames
.
She felt his hand rise, a single finger brush her cheek
.
His heat drew her
.
Her head tilted towards him, a cat seeking the master’s stroke.

No
.
She was a sensible woman, a woman not swayed by passion or desire
.
She opened her mouth to speak, looked up to answer him straight to his face.

All thoughts of what she should do faded before the green glow of his eyes
.
The ache within her grew and spread and she surrendered to . . . herself
.
She needed this, she could think of a thousand reasons to give in and a thousand more to flee, but as she saw herself reflected in his eyes, she knew there was but one choice, one answer
.
There was but one path from despair, and she would follow it
.
Trampling on her last niggling doubts,
she turned her face towards his
, towards the sun, and let a wide easy smile spread across her features.

“I am Rose, my lord
.
May I ask the name of my rescuer from this accursed root?”

###

Wulf Huntington looked down at the face shining up at him
.
Wide-eyed and fair-skinned, she was all he had dreamt of in the past long months, her lush curves caught in the tight gown, the clear gray eyes, the soft blond curls caught up so carelessly
.
Whenever he’d thought back to home and England and all he fought for, it had never been of the cunning, pampered ladies of his youth, it had always been this, the simple working maid in all her earthy glory, butter cream skin, well dampened by salty sweat
.

For a moment, from her speech, he’d taken her for a lady, a forbidden temptress, but her words and work-hardened palm reassured him
.
His mouth watered
.
She smelled of honey, honey and blossoms
.

He would be in England such a short while – only long enough to deliver the dispatches
.
He should resist, keep his mind only on his duty
.
But, she was such a reminder of all he fought for, all he’d suffered for
.
This was
why
he risked his life, his soul
.
Was the rest of her as creamy and pink as the flush that brushed her cheeks and rose at her unbuttoned neckline
?
She was glorious, the epitome of every dream he had dreamt on blood-covered battlefields
.
Thank God she was not a lady
.

Realizing that he’d gone too long without reply, his mind busy with his fantasy, he hastened to answer
.
“No lord, my sweetness
.
A simple mister, or rather a captain, Captain Wulf Huntington to be exact.”

“Wolf?”

“Wulf, Beowulf, I am afraid
.
My father fancied himself a scholar and a poet.
”
He felt a hot rush of color rise up his cheeks
.
He didn’t know why he’d answered her fully
.
Little embarrassed him, but the use of his full name always brought the same anxious pause he’d felt as a schoolboy
.

“It suits you
.
I am, after all, seeking a hero to help defeat this dreaded monster.
”

She was educated, then
.
Her stepmother had taught her well
.
Perhaps a vicar’s daughter? A schoolmaster’s bride
?
No, he would not let his mind wander in that direction
.
A
true man would
not
let such perfection wander unaccompanied
.
He would simply take her for what she was – willing
to give
, he hoped.

She gestured towards the brambles at her feet, the sweeping movement of her arm pushing her full breasts into a sudden prominence that drew his avid attention
.
He could almost taste the salty sweat running between them
.
He swallowed
.
Ah, the glories of England, the simplicity of a country maid with nothing but pleasure on her mind.

“You’ve already requested a strong arm
.
What of an iron will, or a sharp sword?”

“A strong arm is certainly needed, and perhaps an iron will
.
The sharp sword we’ll have to consider anon.”

He sent a questioning glance her way
.
The lass was perhaps as interested as he, if that were possible, and her wordplay surprising for one of her station
.
Her gaze met his, straight and direct
.
His flush deepened, and not from embarrassment
.

He bent and grabbed the bush at her feet, prepared to give a strong tug
.
The soft, but thick leather of his riding gloves saved him from all but the sharpest of the thorns.

Her slight hands closed about his own, and desire coursed through him at her nearness
.
She squeezed lightly.

“Perhaps a more gentle, if firm touch
.
I hope to coax the bush to flowering still, this coming summer.”

He swallowed, as possible meanings raced through his mind
.
He shifted legs, easing his growing discomfort.

“Of course, my sweetest Rose, we do want a full flowering don’t we
?
I am always willing to help coax a blossom.”

He wrapped his arms about her, placing her between him and the plant
.
God, she was soft
.
She fit so well in his arms
.
“Why don’t you show me how you mean?
”
He let his arms slide down hers, enjoying the firmness of her arms, the sweet swells of femininity his fingers grazed
.
He trapped her firmly in his embrace
.
It was impossible to miss her shiver of awareness, the sudden intake of breath
.
Her hands reached down through the dirt to encase the trailing root.

“Just like this
.
You need to hold it firmly and pull it forth gently
.
We don’t want to damage it more than we must
.
I want it to grow back quickly to full hardiness.”

“I think I can oblige if full and hardy is what you like.”

Deep crimson darkened her cheeks, but she did not demur as he drew hard on the embedded root, pressing her warmth more firmly to him, the fullness of her backside pressing into his strong thighs
.
She smelled so sweet, so clean despite the dirt
.
He reveled in his growing lust
.
He let his breath tickle the back of her neck, brushed it lightly with his lips, dreamed of what was to come as he reveled further in her honeyed, musky scent.

When the earth finally loosed its hold they went tumbling back onto the warm grass, light-hearted laughs and repartee rising up between them.

It had been the best night of his life
.
Wulf could not resist a smile as the butler led him to the admiral’s study door
.
He slapped at the dispatches still safe in his pocket
.
Who would ever have thought that the boring task of delivering a packet of papers to the great Burberry and a night in a hay barn could have led to such bliss?

The smile crept further up his cheeks
.
She was a wonder
.
He hadn’t expected to ever feel such joy again after all the death he’d seen
.
She had brought him back to life, reminded him of his abiding love for England and all it offered
.
If only she hadn’t crept away this morning before he’d had a chance to tell her – well, as soon as he was done with Burberry he’d find her again, let her know that he’d be back
.
It was clear they were meant to be together
.
He could even imagine saying those words he’d long forsworn.

“I believe you have something for me?
”
The voice interrupted his reverie, drawing him back to the serious matters at hand.

He looked up and schooled his features quickly
.
This could not be Burberry
.
He’d never met the admiral before, but he’d heard many stories of his greatness, his kindness, the power of his presence
.
And he’d seen him from afar several times in past years – a tall, straight man, command surrounding him like a cloak
.
The man at the desk was hardly more than a shadow, his cheeks sunken and his skin pallid.

“Yes, sir.
”
Wulf forced cheer into his voice
.
“It was requested that you look these over and send back any suggestions you might have
.
It is known you have great familiarity with the defenses around Toulon
.
Your help could save many lives.

As Burberry reached out for the papers, his hand shook with the effort
.
“Familiar, that puts it nicely.
”
He attempted a laugh, but it sounded more like a rattle as a deep cough shook his chest
.
“You sound exceptionally cheerful for a man dragged from the front to play messenger boy to an old man
.
Have you already had enough of glory and adventure?”

Wulf paused
.
The question was not idle curiosity
.
“Yes and no
.
I’ve long realized that glory is paid for in lives and that only a fool seeks adventure in front of a charging cavalry, but I do miss the chance to be at the forefront protecting our great country.
”
He hoped he wasn’t actually blushing as he pictured his love of the previous night and his renewed belief that nothing matched up to the glory of England
.
Gads, the poetic nonsense his mind glowed with this morning.

“That is not the smile of man thinking of the battlefield
.
Has one of our fair Cornish maids caught your eye?”

“Well . . .” She could not be completely unknown in these parts
.
“Actually, yes, I did meet someone, a wonder of womanhood.
”
That was too poetical
.
“I met somebody.
”
That was better
.
“Blond and pretty
, perhaps you would know . . .
”

His words were cut off as hacking coughs again shook the admiral, bending him almost in half
.
Wulf walked towards him, unsure how to offer aid.

“John, have you been forgetting your syrup, again?
”
The siren’s voice called from behind
.

What was she doing here
?
She must have come looking for him
.
Wulf lost all thought of the admiral as he turned to face his future, his destiny.

“Ah dearest, come and meet this gentleman.
”
A smile lit the admiral’s hollow features as he got his cough under control
.
“He’s come to ask my advice.
”

Rose walked into the room
.
She’d changed her gown and her hair was caught up again
.
Wulf preferred it loose and spread about, enveloping them in a private dream.

She saw him, their glances met, and she stiffened, her rosy cheeks grew pale
.
My God, did she live here
?
He wanted to reach out and reassure her
.
He didn’t care if she was Burberry’s daughter
.
It might make things more difficult, but he was prepared to face any foe to win his fair damsel
.
Damn, why did she look so drawn
?
Surely she knew he’d never hurt her, never reveal their secret passion?