The Last Groom on Earth (8 page)

“I don’t know,” Angela said mysteriously. “It depends on the viewer. Some people think it’s a ghost, and others are certain it’s an angel.”

“Look over there!” Stephen said in delight, looking out the window on the other side of the carriage.

“Fairies!” Angela exclaimed with glee.

In a clearing, small silvery creatures with wings on their backs danced in a ring, a strategically placed light in a nearby tree casting a glow over them. Bryce grinned, watching them, then looked eagerly ahead for the next vision.

Next they saw two knights fighting each other on foot, and after that, a leprechaun perched on a pot of gold. Then there was a lone Indian, sitting on his horse. After that, inside a ring resembling Stone-henge several women in white were chanting and swaying while a green-clad priest raised his hands to the sky. Right after that they came upon an old crone cavorting in front of a huge caldron. She flung her hands toward it, and the flames soared up around the big pot in shades of blue and green. Finally they passed a seaweed-draped rock on which sat several lovely, long-haired mermaids, holding out their arms and beckoning to them while high, eerie voices sang.

Angela knew that by day, in a car, the drive from the gates up to Tim’s front door took only a brief time and that the wooded landscape was attractive and rural, but rather ordinary. However, at night, with Tim’s array of tricks, it seemed like a magical world unto itself.

When they passed the rock, there was the wizard again, nodding to them from the side of the road,
saying in the same strange voice, “You have passed the Woods of Enchantment. Now you are once again in the world.”

All of them relaxed, leaning back against the carriage seats.

“Quite a show,” Stephen said. “Although, you know, I think last year was a little more exciting. That pirate ship and all.”

Just then a dark-clad rider burst out of the trees and came racing toward them. A long black cape flowed behind him, and his lower face was covered by a black scarf. A black tricornered hat sat atop his head. He fired a dueling pistol in the air and shouted, “Stand and deliver!”

Across from them Terri let out a nervous giggle.

“Goodness,” Angela remarked. “A highwayman, yet. I guess the fun isn’t quite over.”

They all peered out the windows to see what would happen. The coach rumbled to a halt. The highwayman waved his pistol toward the coachman and yelled, “Get out, all of you, or ‘twill go the worse for him.”

“I wonder if he realizes that a dueling pistol only carried one shot?” Bryce mused as Stephen reached over and opened the door.

Angela cast him a disgusted look and moved over to the door to climb out. “Don’t bring reality into this.”

Bryce smiled and followed the others out of the carriage.

“Ah,” the highwayman was saying, leering terribly at Terri and Angela. “We have some pretty ones tonight. It’s always nice to get more than money, my ladies.”

“Am I going to have to defend your honor?” Bryce murmured in Angela’s ear.

Just then the blunderbuss thundered above them, making all of them jump. With a cry, the figure on the horse swayed back, clutching his chest. The horse turned and pounded off, the would-be thief, now slumping forward against the horse’s neck.

“There ye go,” the footman cried. “It’s death to any man who attacks his lordship’s coach. Best get back in the vehicle now, ladies, gentlemen. We won’t want to be here if any of his cronies show up.”

They got back into the carriage, exclaiming over the highwayman’s attack, laughing and a little breathless.

“I love Tim’s parties,” Stephen Jenesky said as the carriage pulled up at last in front of Tim’s house.

“They’re great,” Angela agreed.

Bryce said nothing. He was too busy staring in amazement at Tim’s house. It resembled nothing so much as a small castle. Made of dark red-brown brick, it was crammed full of towers, turrets and crenella-tions. There was even a decorative row of cross-shaped arrow slits near the top.

“I’m surprised there isn’t a moat and drawbridge,” Bryce said dryly, and Angela chuckled.

“Tim wanted to, but fortunately Melanie dissuaded him.”

As they got out of the carriage, a chilling moan rent the air, and they looked up to see a white-clad figure walking along the roof, wringing her hands.

“Every castle has to have a ghost,” Stephen Jenesky explained.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything so elaborate,” Bryce said as two doormen dressed in Turkish costume silently swung open the double front doors for them. “Not for a party.”

“Tim spends a fortune on it every year. He always has to outdo himself. Are you enjoying yourself so far?”

“You know, I think I am.”

A medieval page came forward and led the other couple down a hallway. As Bryce and Angela started to follow, another page stepped up and motioned to them to stop. Minutes later, he beckoned to them, and they walked down the same hall after him.

“What now?” Bryce asked, looking at Angela with raised brows.

Angela shrugged. “Who knows? He told me he had something different for the party this year.”

The young boy came to a stop in front of a door. “Through this door lies the maze, my lord and lady.”

“A maze?”

“Yes, my lord. ‘Tis a test of skill with riddles. To find your way through it, you must answer the clues.”

“Oh, great,” Bryce said with a mock groan. “You mean we could wind up lost all evening?”

Angela grinned up at him. “Only if we can’t figure out the clues.”

He smiled back at her, his gray eyes suddenly warm. “I can think of worse things than being lost in the dark with you.”

Angela felt heat stealing through her at his words. She was suddenly very aware of the fact that she was holding Bryce’s hand.
When had that happened? Had he taken her hand or had it been the other way around?
She thought about pulling it away, but then it occurred to her that that would only make it more obvious. Flustered, she turned away quickly and led him through the door.

“T
his is the door to his garage,” Angela explained as they walked through. “I saw a tent in front of his garage, so I guess the maze extends into that.”

They were in a small room with soft walls, and on each side there were flaps that could be lifted and entered. Above one flap was a purple tassel and above the other a red one. A sign hung on the wall in front of them.

Bryce leaned forward to examine the words of the sign. “Mix a crane and the name of our latest hit. Then you’ll know which door to choose.”

“Well, our latest game
is Code Blue,
” Angela said immediately. “You mix blue with white? Aren’t cranes white? White and blue would make…pale blue?” She looked up at the tassels. “No blue. Well, I guess that’s out.”

Bryce stared at the wall consideringly. Suddenly he grinned. “How about a Crane, capital
C.
As in Stephen Crane’s
The Red Badge of Courage?”

Angela smiled back. “As in red and blue—purple?”

“You got it.”

“Okay, let’s try it.”

He lifted the flap, and Angela stepped through into a narrow corridor. Fog seemed to rise from the floor, and reeds stuck up here and there, as if in a swamp.

Cautiously they made their way along the hallway, expecting at any moment for the floor to give way beneath them. Instead, when they were halfway down the little corridor, a hand, dripping with moss shot up from the floor. Bryce choked back an oath. They skirted the hand, which then slid back down beneath the fog, and arrived at another flap door. Next to Angela, a low tunnel led off. They looked at the flap, then bent to peer into the low, rounded corridor.

A small square of paper on the wall advised them to follow the path of love. Bryce looked at Angela in perplexity.

“That’s easy,” Angela told him. “The Tunnel of Love. Let’s take this one.”

“All right. I’m game.”

They got down on their hands and knees and began to crawl along the tunnel.

So they went on, crawling, standing, even climbing over low barricades, and in each new place there was another “clue” to guide them. Once they could not figure out the riddle and had to retrace their steps when they reached a dead end.

A half hour later they emerged from the “maze,” laughing and talking and flushed with adrenaline.
They were on a black-topped area, and there was a table of refreshments in front of them. Behind the table stood two costumed servers, who quickly and efficiently poured them drinks. Several other guests who had emerged from the maze were standing around chatting and partaking of refreshments: saloon girls, Indians, Romans, even a Hester Prynne in a Puritan costume with a large red
A
fastened on her chest.

Bryce and Angela chatted and sipped at their drinks, eyeing the other entertaining costumes as they made their way around to the side entrance of the house along a marked path and entered the party.

Spread out in front of them was a large room packed with people pulsing to the sound of a rock band. Bryce noticed that the band, set up on a small stage on one side of the enormous room, was also in costume. Then Tim came bustling up to them, dressed in the brown gown of a friar.

“Angela! And you managed to get Bryce to come, too!” Tim greeted Angela with a hug. “Wow, you look stunning.”

“Thank you.” Angela inclined her head with a regal nod. “Are you Friar Tuck this year?”

Tim grimaced. “No, you Philistine. That must be the hundredth time somebody’s said that. Don’t any of you people read? See these vials of herbs on my belt? I’m Brother Cadfael—you know, the Ellis Peters mysteries.”

“Oh, yeah. Of course. I should have known you’d never be anyone as ordinary as Friar Tuck.” She glanced around at the crush of people. “Your usual great party, Tim.”

“Thanks.” Tim’s eyes lit up. “How’d you like the fairies?”

“They were wonderful.”

Tim beamed. “I think this is Phil’s best work yet. He even improved on the flying banshee.”

“Phil is a set designer for one of the local theaters,” Angela explained to Bryce. “Tim always hires him to put his visions into reality.”

“He’s a genius.” He turned toward Bryce. “So—how are you doing? Found anything yet?”

“Well, actually, I have come across a few names that received substantial payments last year, but not the year before. I’d like to have you and Angela look at the names and see if you recognize them.”

A pained expression passed across Tim’s face. “Oh, no, not now. It’s a party. We’ll look at them on Monday.” He looked past them. “New arrivals. I have to go play host. You two dance. Have some food—it’s quite a spread.”

He bustled off with a cheery wave of his hand.

“Not too big on facing reality, is he?”

“Who wants to hear bad news?” Angela countered. “I don’t, either. Come on, let’s dance.”

Bryce looked at the crush on the tiny dance floor, then back at Angela. He rolled his eyes, but gamely took her hand and plunged through the mob to the dance floor.

They had barely started dancing when the song ended. It was followed by a slow dance. Bryce folded Angela in his arms, and they moved to the music. It was hot pressed up against Bryce’s body, but Angela didn’t mind. Even through her stiff, heavy bodice, she could feel Bryce’s hard chest pressing against her. Her breasts tightened in response. One of his hands held hers, and the other was splayed across her back. Angela
wondered if it was the heat or his nearness that was making her feel a trifle faint.

When the music ended, she stepped back abruptly, aware that her face was flushed. She hoped he would attribute it to the heat, not the arousal that was creeping through her.

“Why don’t we go outside?” she asked quickly. “It’s horribly hot in here. This brocade is beautiful, but it’s stifling.”

Bryce nodded, and they wound through the other revelers to the open French doors.

Apparently several other people had found the outdoor air appealing, for the flagstone terrace, decorated with soft globes of light, held several other couples.

They got glasses of punch at the refreshment table and sampled a few of the delicious dishes. Then Angela led Bryce across the patio to the terraced flagstone walk that dropped gradually down to the yard below them. Short lights lined the pathway into the yard, and party lights glittered festively in the trees.

They strolled around the pool, mutedly glowing with underwater lights, and onto the twisting graveled pathways at the rear at the yard.

“It’s beautiful out here,” Bryce commented, glancing around.

It was darker, the yard less manicured and the vegetation growing more naturally. Lights glowed here and there, spotlighting the trunks of occasional trees, but the winding gravel paths were unlit.

“Yes. Isn’t it? Tim owns several acres.” She gestured in front of them. “He’s left most of the land out there as is. He and his kids like to go hiking and exploring
in it. I like this part—the transition between the formal lawns and the wilderness.”

They reached a rise, where a low stone bench sat beneath a tree, and Angela turned and looked back toward the house. They were above the pool and the lower stretch of green lawn, with the brightly lit terrace and house at some distance across from them. It was almost like watching actors upon a stage to see the partygoers milling around on the terrace, with the two of them cozily alone in the dark. The sound of laughter and the band floated across the lawn toward them.

Bryce turned and looked down at her. The moonlight drifted over her, catching the row of seed pearls that lined her snood and fell across the white expanse of her chest. Her skin was soft and milky, the swell of her breasts inviting. His fingers itched to reach out and slide across her chest, to delve down into the dress. He found himself wondering what her nipples would look like—large warm brown circles or tight little raspberry buds.

Bryce swallowed and looked away. Such thoughts were dangerous, especially out here alone with Angela in the moonlight. This was her world, not his, a place of fantasy and enchantment, where people dressed like someone out of a story and the night was soft and warm and smelled faintly of romantic scents.

“I’m not sure why I came here tonight,” he admitted, studying the path beneath his feet.

“That’s all right. You don’t always have to know exactly what you’re doing. Instincts take over sometimes.”

“I’ve never trusted instincts. They too often lead one astray.”

“Perhaps we ought to go back inside,” Angela suggested.

“No. I like it right here.” Bryce raised his head and looked at her. “Do you?”

Angela gazed back at him. Her eyes were dark in the dim light, pools of mystery and delight. Slowly she reached up and laid her hand against his cheek. His skin flamed hot beneath her touch, and his eyes were bright silver.

“I don’t know why,” she began softly, “but I like to look at you.”

“Neither do I,” he responded. She could feel the movement in his cheek against her hand as he smiled a little. “It can’t be half as pleasurable as looking at you.”

She stroked her thumb across Bryce’s cheek. His flesh was deliciously firm and warm to her touch; his skin sent tingles through her hand and straight into her body, where they pooled in dark ripples in her abdomen.

“You’re not at all my type.” Angela went on as her thumb traced the line of his upper lip.

He stiffened slightly at the touch, and his skin was like fire. Angela slid her thumb slowly along the curve of his lower lip. His mouth opened slightly and he took her thumb gently between his lips. He kissed her thumb, then trailed his tongue along it. Angela sucked in her breath and her hand fell abruptly away.

“No,” Bryce agreed. “Nor are you mine.”

His hand sank into her hair at her nape, holding her head immobilized, and he leaned toward her until his face was only inches from hers.

“I’ve been thinking about you all week. Wondering why I was stupid enough to walk away from you
Monday. Then telling myself I’d have to be crazy to get involved with you, that we’re too different. Thinking that I’d rather be crazy than keep on wanting you…and not having you.”

Angela felt as if she were melting inside. His words were as sensual, as hungry, as any kiss. Her loins felt liquid and full and aching. Her feelings must have shown on her face, for Bryce let out a low groan.

“I’m tired of being sensible,” he growled. “Tonight I don’t want to be practical or rational. I don’t want to be careful.” He bent and took her lips in a hungry kiss.

Bryce could not remember ever wanting any woman with this kind of hungry intensity. His nature seemed to change when he was around her. A hundred times this past week he had told himself how right he had been to pull away from her the other day in her office; a relationship with someone as unpredictable, disorganized and flamboyant as Angela would quickly drive him insane. Yet, no matter how much he told himself he had been right, it had not eased the pain of wanting her. It had not gotten her out of his mind.

“I want to take you to bed,” he said huskily, trailing his lips across her face to her ear. “To feel your body under mine. Your legs around me.”

Angela was mesmerized by the heavy sensuality of his words. She could not think, could scarcely breathe, stunned by the throb of desire within her.

“You don’t have to be the same to match,” he said roughly. “And I think we’ll match just fine.”

Bryce’s lips came back to hers, his tongue delving into the honeyed warmth of her mouth. His tongue stroked along hers like fire, delving and retreating. She could hear his harsh, ragged breath, and the sound
stirred her. A hot, sweet ache began to blossom between her legs.

Bryce’s arms were tight around her, pressing her into him until she thought she would not be able to breathe, but the embrace was not enough for him. He wanted to feel her up and down him; he wanted to touch her all over; he wanted to continue kissing her until time stopped and at the same moment he wanted to taste her body in a hundred different spots. Desire coiled and tightened within him.

Bryce lifted Angela in his arms and sat down on the bench, settling her on his lap. Her eyes widened a little with surprise at his sudden movement, but then she curled her arms around his neck and returned her kiss-softened lips to his. Her headgear was in the way, and he impatiently shoved it aside. It fell to the ground, loosening her hair, and the soft red curls tumbled to her shoulders. Bryce groaned and sank his hand into her hair, crushing the springing curls between his fingers.

His mouth consumed her and his arm curled around her back, holding her upright, as his other hand slid up the stiff cloth of her dress until his fingers reached the plush softness of the exposed tops of her breasts. A shudder of desire ran through him as his hand slipped gently over her breasts, following the curve and dip of each lush mound. Angela squeezed her legs tightly together, trying to ease the sudden pulsing eagerness there, and her lips fervently matched his hungry pressure.

Bryce’s hand splayed over the expanse of her chest, then curved back down onto the quivering swell of her breast. Farther and deeper his fingers slipped, delving beneath the stiffened bodice until his fingertips
found the tight bud that they sought. He moaned, and his mouth left hers to move hungrily over her face. He seized her earlobe gently between his teeth and worried it while his fingertips rolled and stroked and gently squeezed her taut nipple.

Angela whimpered, and her head lolled back, exposing, her throat to his mouth. His lips trailed down her neck, kissing and nibbling the tender flesh. Then his mouth was upon her breast, sinking hungrily into her. She could feel the hard, throbbing length of his desire beneath her, and she moved against him, evoking a groan from him. He shoved down her bodice, exposing her breasts completely. He cupped one orb and gazed at it, gently rubbing his thumb across the pink-fleshed nipple.

Angela trembled all over as his warm mouth enclosed her nipple. It seemed as if every nerve in her body was alive and throbbing. Nothing had ever felt as wondrous, as right, as his mouth on her breast. His tongue rubbed slowly, sensuously over her nipple, and the taut bud prickled. Dampness pooled between her legs, and she wanted suddenly, wantonly, to feel his hand there.