Tomorrow's Dreams (22 page)

Blast! Undoubtedly the man had noticed her trouble with the lock and was about to offer his assistance. With her luck he was probably a regular patron of the variety hall and would recognize her on the spot.

Desperate now, she gave the key a forceful shove to the right. With a loud
click!
the safety lock released. In the twinkling of an eye, she slipped into the darkened room and closed the door behind her, shutting out not only the prying eyes of the passing porter, but the hall light as well.

Relieved at her narrow escape, she closed her eyes and sagged against the door, trembling as she listened to the frantic drumming of her heart. When her pulse had returned to normal, she opened her eyes and squinted into the gloom-filled room.

Shafts of hazy sunshine filtered through the filmy lace sub-curtains and around the edges of the carelessly drawn drape panels, scattering faint, weblike patterns of light across the shadowy landscape of furniture. From the murky depth of the bed, which was little more than an inky silhouette against the charcoal background of the room, came the sound of soft snoring.

“Seth?” Penelope whispered, her eyes straining as she focused on the spectral contours of his prone figure.

His only reply was another snore.

As disoriented as an explorer lost in an uncharted cave, Penelope stumbled through the dark, embarking on a light-seeking mission to open the draperies. As she shuffled toward the windows, her hands blindly groping the space before her, her boot heel caught on something. She teetered back and forth twice, then tumbled to her knees … right into a mound of pillowing softness.

Thanking her lucky stars for whatever had broken her fall, she flopped back into a sitting position and wrestled whatever had tripped her from her heel. Like a sightless person reading braille, she ran her fingers over the foot-trussing culprit, noting the silky fineness of the fabric. By the shape and feel of it, it appeared to be a pair of Seth's trousers.

Dropping the garment to the floor, she reached out and curiously prodded the knee-saving heap in front of her. She'd have bet her lucky ribbon
and
her best mother-of-pearl hair comb that it was the rest of the clothes he'd worn the night before. Apparently Seth wasn't jesting when he said he needed a valet.

Without further mishap, Penelope reached the windows and flung open the draperies. In a blinding flash of white-gold brilliance, sunlight flooded the room, painting the night-grayed interior with bold strokes of color and drawing the once indistinguishable furniture shapes into focus.

After securing the olive plush drapes with their gold tie-backs, she turned to wake Seth. What she saw left her breathless.

Bathed in the warm morning light, his sun-kissed skin gilded to a priceless gold, Seth lay sprawled across the bed in all his naked glory. He was magnificent in his nudity, all long, lean lines and hard, sculpted muscles.

Ignoring her conscience, which was sternly lecturing her on the unseemliness of spying on an unclothed man, she moved nearer to the bed. When he didn't stir at her approach, she paused to let her admiring gaze sweep his elegant form.

He looked so handsome, so utterly tempting that it took all her willpower not to reach out and run her hand down the length of his powerful back. Lying on his belly as he was, with his arm cradling his head and his gold-stubbled cheek resting against the back of his open hand, he reminded her of a painting she had once seen of Apollo asleep in a flowery glen.

Like the beautiful sun god, Seth's features were a striking composite of rugged planes and refined angles, giving him an appearance that was at once aristocratic and savagely earthy. His eyelashes, which were surprisingly dark compared to his hair, lay in spiky crescents against his tanned cheeks. Not for the first time, Penelope caught herself envying their length.

For a very long time she stood there, wistfully etching every feature of his peaceful face into her memory. How many times during the past two and a half years had she imagined Seth lying by her side looking exactly the way he did now?

In response to something in his dream, Seth groaned and restively tossed his head, sending a long tendril of hair tumbling across his forehead.

Smiling with tenderness, she reached down and gently brushed it back, letting her hand linger on the ripe wheat profusion spilling across his pillow and down his back. How she loved the untamed splendor of his mane. Loved the way it felt, so smooth and soft; loved the way it looked cascading wildly over the impressive breadth of his bare shoulders.

With brazen impulse outstripping demure caution, she lightly raked her fingers through the tangled length, marveling anew at the silky texture. As her hand glided from root to end, her fingertips inadvertently grazed the back of his neck, softly caressing him from nape to shoulder.

He whimpered and arched back against her hand, his mouth curving into a smile that could best be described as sultry.

The sizzling impact of that smile hit Penelope with a force that turned her knees to jelly. Even asleep, Seth Tyler oozed a mesmerizing sensuality that made her yearn to surrender the last vestiges of her pride and beg him to love her again.

Aching need blossomed low in her belly as she imagined herself naked and in his arms again. How she longed to feel his body moving against hers, his skin wet with passion-spawned sweat as he drove his masculine hardness into her soft, feminine flesh. She hungered to taste his lips as they claimed hers, to eagerly swallow his sobs of pleasure as he plunged his manhood deeper and deeper into the molten core of her womanhood. And as they climaxed, their bodies convulsing in harmonic ecstasy, she craved to hear him moan his declaration of love, just as in the past.

Penelope's breath strangled in her throat as the liquid evidence of her need dampened her drawers. As if psychically sharing her thoughts, and her desire, Seth released a choked groan and undulated his pelvis against the mattress.

With a groan that echoed his, Penelope's well-bred restraint lapsed. Guided by primal instinct, she lightly skimmed her fingertips down his spine, her breath quickening with his as she rounded the curve of his muscular buttock.

Over and over again she stroked him, trembling with the force of her own desire as he unconsciously thrashed and moaned beneath her hand. He'd always been so responsive to her touch, so shamelessly unbridled in the expression of his pleasure. Once upon a magical time, she had thrilled at her easy mastery over his body, empowered by the knowledge that he not only willingly surrendered his flesh to her, but his heart as well.

Suddenly he whispered, and her hand froze mid-stroke, her gaze darting guiltily from his flexing backside to his face. Expecting him to open his eyes and denounce her for the brazen hussy she was at that moment, she simply stood there, too paralyzed with embarrassment to move.

Except for a moan, he remained silent … and sound asleep. Sagging with relief, she struggled to compose herself, determined to stop behaving like a lovesick strumpet.

She almost succeeded. Just as her pulse rate returned to normal, he whispered again, this time clearly, “Penelope.”

His voice was filled with such longing, such heartfelt tenderness, that her senses were electrified all over again.

“Penelope,” he sighed yet again. Like a cat satiated by a bowl of cream, he released a contented purr and slowly ran the pink tip of his tongue over the sleek lining of his parted lips.

Her own lips burned and tingled in response, his provocative motion reminding her of the times he'd traced the sensitive inner region of her mouth in much the same manner. Staring hungrily at his lips, she remembered every nuance of his unforgettable kisses; the way his mouth had felt against hers, so delectably warm and mobile; the seductiveness with which he'd parted her lips with his tongue and the thrill of his penetration as he leisurely explored the contours of her yielding mouth.

Overwhelmed with the urge to touch his lips, to see if they were as smooth and pliant as she remembered, Penelope reached down and lightly followed the path of his tongue with her finger.

With a strangled moan he opened his mouth wider, and when he sighed, she felt the rush of his breath hot against her hand.

Yet, he didn't wake.

Emboldened by the depth of his slumber, Penelope again caressed his mouth, this time lingering to stroke his full lower lip. His response sent her pulse drumming into triple time.

With a sound halfway between a sob and groan, Seth sucked her marauding finger into his mouth, just as he'd done a hundred times before when she'd lovingly traced his lips with her thumb while expressing her admiration for their elegant shape.

Filled with bittersweet longing, Penelope raised her free hand and lifted a lock of his hair from his cheek. Tenderly she tucked it behind his ear, pausing to trace the shell-like rim with her fingertip … another intimate habit from happier days. He'd always loved having his ears touched like this, groaning how the sensual tickling maddened him with lust.

Apparently some things hadn't changed. Expelling an explosive whimper, his body arched up, quivering uncontrollably. Smiling, she snaked her finger down from his ear to trace the strong angle of his jaw. Once, as they had pondered what their children would look like, she'd asked him from whose side of the family he'd inherited that wonderful jaw. As with all her questions concerning himself, he'd somehow managed to avoid answering it by diverting her attention and changing the subject.

Her hand stilled as it suddenly dawned on her what an enigma Seth was. Though she had known him half her life, there was much she didn't know about him, so much she hadn't thought to ask.

Shame washed over her as she realized just how selfish she had been in her dealings with him. During their short courtship and even shorter engagement, she had been so preoccupied with her success on the stage that she'd been unable to speak of anything else. Vainly she had centered every conversation on herself, never once bothering to ask Seth about himself or his interests.

Not that he'd seemed to mind. In truth, he encouraged her self-adulation by lavishly praising her talents and by showing a single-minded fascination with everything she said or did. In her conceit, she'd viewed his attentiveness as gratifying proof of his love for her. Now she wondered if it had simply been a ploy to avoid discussing himself. But why?

Granted, she knew that his upbringing had been less than privileged, though the details were sketchy at best. She frowned suddenly. Could it be that all the adolescent scorn she'd heaped on him years ago, the way she'd mocked his once-poor grammar and reproached him for using the wrong fork at dinner, had cut him deeper than she'd thought?

She stared into space for a moment, sickened to the core of her very soul as she recalled the terrible way she'd treated him when her brother first started inviting him to the house. She'd been cruel in her taunts, spiteful in her youthful prejudice.

If the truth were to be told, it wasn't until five years ago that she had finally seen him for the intelligent man he was and the cultured gentleman he'd become. It wasn't until this very moment that she realized how truly remarkable he was to have bettered himself in such a spectacular manner.

A stab of guilt impaled Penelope's heart. Had she ever bothered to tell Seth how much she admired him? How much he thrilled and impressed her? Had she ever thanked him for so graciously forgiving her the injustices she'd done him?

Had she ever once said she was sorry for anything?

She sighed, thoroughly disgusted with herself. Sadly enough, the answer to all those questions was no. Yet, despite her appalling selfishness, Seth had loved her. She hadn't deserved such a gift; she knew that now. But like the princess for whom she was nicknamed, she'd accepted his adoration as her due, thoughtlessly taking it for granted as she had everything else in her once-charmed life.

Oh! What she wouldn't give for a second chance! Things would be so different … better. She would be better.

Closing her eyes, Penelope made a silent vow: should a miracle occur and she were to regain Seth's love, she'd treat him with the respect he commanded. She would find out where he was from and what he wanted in the future. She'd learn what gave him pleasure and share his deepest fears. No matter how reluctant he might be at first, she'd coax every last detail of his life out of him. And regardless of how unsavory those details might prove to be, she'd accept them for what they were: a part of the past that had shaped him into the extraordinary man he was today. Most important of all, she'd never again take his love for granted. She would cherish it like the priceless rarity it was, and nurture it like a well-loved child. She would be worthy of him.

Beset with painful longing, Penelope opened her eyes and wistfully glanced down at Seth's sleeping face. She was stunned by his expression, so taut and filled with unslaked lust … almost as stunned as she was to discover that she'd been the unwitting cause of it. While her thoughts had been virtuously repentant, her hands had been moving by their own lascivious volition, with her right one fondling his backside while the left tickled the long line of his spine. Mortified, she snatched her hands away.

Lord have mercy! Just look at what she'd done to the poor man! As instinctively as if it were something she did every day, she'd whipped him into a sexual frenzy that would have done one of Goldie's girls proud. She stared down at Seth's undulating body with alarm. Perhaps she wasn't
acting
like a wanton due to a temporary lapse of propriety; perhaps she
was
a wanton.

As if to present proof of her licentious tendencies and abilities, Seth growled her name and rolled onto his back, revealing the full extent of his arousal.

Penelope's jaw sagged with shock. Jutting from the nest of tawny curls at his groin, Seth's impressive sex was fully erect and throbbing visibly with need. Without thinking, she bent down for a closer look. She couldn't recall him ever being quite so … inflamed. Not that she'd ever actually examined that part of him closely enough to know for sure. The three times they'd made love, she'd been too shy to do more than give it a few tentative caresses. Besides, it had been dark. In deference to her modesty, Seth had turned down the gaslights, thus precluding her from taking a really good look at his nude body.