Tomorrow's Dreams (23 page)

But she was certainly getting an eyeful this morning, and what an eyeful it was! Desire, hot and vaporous, rose within her as she continued to contemplate her titillating handiwork. As she stared, his hand, which lay spasmodically clenching and unclenching on his taut belly, snaked downward in the direction of his need. Down it glided, until it hovered close to his straining hardness. With an agonized groan, he touched himself.

“Please, sweetheart,” he begged hoarsely, then dropped his hand from his erection to clasp at the sheet bunched up beneath his hips. Lost in the throes of his lustful dream, his pelvis thrust upward. Penelope felt her most private place become slick with desire as she imagined being impaled by him. Her knees suddenly weak, she sank down upon the bed next to him.

They lay like that for a long while; she, lulled by the earthy maleness of his scent; he, softly muttering her name over and over again. Seduced by the thrilling familiarity of his nearness, Penelope closed her eyes and drifted on the sea of gentle memories. Once, not so very long ago, they had lain in this very position playfully building castles in the air.

Such glorious plans they made! They would ice-skate in St. Petersburg in the winter and kiss beneath the bridges of Venice in spring. Come summer, they would frolic on the warm beaches of Greece. And in the fall, they would float down the Nile River on a barge fit for Cleopatra, eating dried figs they had purchased at the marketplace in Cairo.

As they took turns spinning dreams and soaring on outrageous flights of fancy, their conversation had drifted from the innocuous adventures of their days to the voluptuous ones of their nights. In his seductive manner Seth had described in smoldering detail all the ways he intended to pleasure her.

Just remembering the images those softly purred words had evoked was enough to ignite the volatile fires of Penelope's passions all over again. Suddenly mindless of everything but her desire to relive that wonderful time, she melted against Seth, impulsively rubbing the length of her body against his.

With a hoarse cry, Seth grabbed her and crushed her into his embrace, roughly grinding his arousal against her belly. The feel of him, rock-hard and ramming insistently against her rucked up skirts was enough to jolt her back to her senses … and to the realization that she was in a shamefully compromising position.

Flushing at her predicament and guiltily aware that she'd brought it on herself, she tried to pull away. But he tightened his hold, easily immobilizing her.

Her throat clogged by panic, Penelope's wide-eyed gaze flew to his face.

He was awake.

Chapter 14

He was still asleep. Thank God, he was still asleep. A smile of relief tugged at Seth's lips. Obviously he'd only dreamed of being awakened, for Penelope was still in his arms exactly as his imagination had left her. Granted, a moment ago she'd been gloriously naked, not dressed in an ugly wrapper with some sort of absurd headgear dangling around her neck. And her expression had been one of carnal invitation, not the one of shocked dismay she now wore.

He gave a mental shrug. Ah, well. Such was the perverse nature of dreams. No doubt his wicked imagination had some mighty interesting plans for this blushing scullery maid version of Penelope. Hopefully she'd take up where the other Penelope had left off. The other had been a master of erotica.

With a groan Seth closed his eyes and undulated his pelvis, urging her to resume her pleasurable activities.

She shrieked and struggled against him.

His eyes flew open. For a moment he simply lay staring at her, too groggy and confused to form a rational thought.

Penelope's thoughts, on the other hand, had just emerged from the mind-numbing fog of her shock. She wanted to die! To roll back her eyes, turn up her toes and fatally succumb to her mortification. Tearing herself from his slackening grasp, she flung herself from the bed and put several feet between them.

Too humiliated to look at him, she stared down at the floral-patterned carpet. She had to say something, give some sort of explanation for being in his bed.

But what? Wishing that the floor would open up and swallow her, she nervously traced a woven leaf with the scuffed toe of her boot. The truth was out of the question, of course. She could just imagine his reaction if she were to confess to teasing him into his present condition. Knowing Seth, he'd probably invite her to finish what she'd begun. And the way just looking at his magnificent body made her tingle all over, it was dangerously possible that she might accept.

So what should she do? She stole a glance at him. He was staring at her, his expression every bit as bewildered as she knew her own must be.

“Penelope?” he murmured hoarsely, his gaze questioning.

She said the first thing that sprang to her lips, “You attacked me!”

To her astonishment, he blushed. It was that blush that sparked an idea. Praying she didn't look as guilty as she felt, she mustered up her best impersonation of an outraged maiden and berated, “How dare you drag me into your bed like I was one of your—your—doxies!”

“I did that?” He looked appalled.

It was all Penelope could do to stifle her grin as she nodded. “Yes! You were moaning and thrashing and muttering all sorts of lewd suggestions in your sleep. When I tried to wake you, you grabbed me.”

Seth felt his flush deepen as he imagined exactly what she must have seen when she walked into the room. He must have looked and sounded like a licentious satyr. Hell, he certainly felt like one. Stunned and shamed, he dropped his gaze from her face.

God! Whatever had possessed him? He, who had always prided himself on his finesse in sexual matters, had never done anything as gauche as force a woman into bed with him … awake or asleep. He released a soft groan. Apparently his desire for Penelope was going to be a lot harder to control than he'd anticipated. But that was a problem he was going to have to address later. Right now he needed to smooth over the humiliating predicament at hand.

His first words would have to be an apology, that much was clear. Then he'd have to think of a way to explain his behavior without admitting to his unrelenting lust for her. But how?

He thought for a moment. It wasn't as if Penelope was unaware of his sensual nature … unless she'd forgotten the raptures of their lovemaking. Wounded by that possibility, he shot her a disgruntled look from beneath his eyelashes.

She was wearing an expression that was a little bit relieved and a lot triumphant. Gone was the affronted ingenue, and in her place stood a composed woman who looked as though she'd just gotten away with stealing the crown jewels.

Or, he amended with dawning understanding, gotten away with handling his jewels without compromising her dignity. His gaze sharpened as it homed in on her smug little smile. Thinking back, she hadn't looked so much outraged as she had guilty when he'd awakened to find her in his embrace.

Could it be that she'd done something to provoke him into behaving as he had? Seth turned the question over in his mind. It was certainly a possibility, one that bore further investigation. And investigate it he would. Ignoring the fact that his arousal was waving in the air like a flag in a brisk breeze, he folded his arms behind his head and yawned. “I attacked you? Hmm.”

The indignant virgin was back in a flash. “Yes, you did! And after the disgraceful way you behaved, I'd think you would have the decency to cover your”—she pointed accusingly at his rigid sex—“your—thing!—and apologize.”

Oh, she was good. He'd give her that. Stifling his urge to chuckle at her performance, he followed the line of her pointing finger to stare down at himself. “It's called a penis. Of course, considering its rather inflated state, the more correct name would be erection.” Aching with frustrated need and determined to teach her a lesson for working him into such a state, he brazenly lifted the anatomy in question to allow her a better view.

“The other night you seemed inordinately concerned about me being plagued by the pox.” With his free hand he ran his fingers down his rigid length, smoothing the skin of his sheath to fully display his unblemished male flesh. “Take a good look, Princess. As you can see for yourself, I'm in the pink of good health. Why, I'm positively bursting with vigor.”

There was nothing maidenly or outraged about Penelope's expression as she watched his fingers glide down his shaft. She was wearing that dazed, unfocused look she had worn when he'd made love to her. Seeing her like that gave Seth an almost irresistible urge to wrestle her back into his bed and kiss her until the only word left in her vocabulary was a breathless
yes
.

Cursing beneath his breath, he dropped his sex back to his belly. With a mere look, Penelope had turned the tables on him, and it was he, not she, who was squirming. Irritated by his own lamentable lack of control, he added in a stinging tone, “Of course, seeing as how you've been doing God knows what to my body while I was asleep, you know all about my vigor.”

That snapped her out of her calf-eyed stupor. Gasping with genuine affront, she practically spat, “You're an incorrigible bastard, do you know that?”

“Yes. And you're late for your duties.” He nodded at the clock on the table next to the bed. “It's seven-twenty.”

“I'll have you know that I was here promptly at seven. It's not my fault if you refused to wake up.”

“Seven sharp you say?” Seth pushed himself into a sitting position. Folding his arms across his chest, he inquired, “What exactly have you been doing for the last twenty minutes?”

Penelope looked so guilty that he was left with little doubt as to exactly what she'd been doing. So he was right, she had in some way provoked his attack.

Looking as if she wanted to run and hide, she said, “I told you. I was trying to wake you.”

“And may I say that you've done a splendid job of it? If you do the rest of your duties with such èlan, I might be tempted to fire Roper and hire you as his permanent replacement.”

Penelope bit her tongue to check her barbed retort. No, she wouldn't rise to his bait. If she did, she'd probably be here all day while the blasted man rated her skills on the Roper scale of domestic excellence. And she'd be damned before she'd remain in the same room with him a second longer than absolutely necessary.

Determined to expedite her duties, she pointedly ignored his last remark and asked, “What does Roper do after he wakes you?”

“He fetches me a dressing gown. You'll find several hanging in the wardrobe. Then he summons one of the maids to bring me my coffee. I take it black and strong, and I like it served with ginger biscuits. But you don't have to worry about that. The hotel kitchen sends me up a tray every morning at seven-thirty.”

Penelope nodded. “Fine. What else?”

Seth tucked a coil of hair behind his ear as he considered her question. “He lays out my shaving implements—you'll find them in the top dressing table drawer—then runs my bath. Since the civilized luxury of running water has yet to make an appearance in Denver, I've asked to have a tub and water brought to my room along with my coffee.”

“You bathe here?” Penelope asked, disturbed at the prospect of spending yet more time with Seth in his current state of undress. To her discomfiture, she found that the sight of all that smooth golden skin did strange things to her. In fact, looking at him now made her palms tingle to touch him again.

“Where else would I bathe?” he inquired.

Slapping her hands against her skirts in an attempt to rid herself of the confounding sensation, she stalked over to the wardrobe. “The advertisement for this hotel claims that there's a bathroom on every floor,” she said, flinging open the doors.

“The advertisement is correct,” he assured her.

Penelope pulled a burgundy and sapphire paisley print silk dressing gown from its hanger. “Then, wouldn't it be easier to take your bath there?” It would certainly be easier on her.

“Probably. But I like to soak, which is impossible with the other guests pounding on the door and shouting at me to hurry.”

Penelope almost groaned aloud. He liked to soak. Wonderful. She could just imagine what the sight of all those sleek muscles glistening with soap and water was going to do to her senses.

Before she could fully contemplate the disturbing effect, there was a pounding at the door. “Porter, sir!”

“It's a valet's job to direct the lower servants,” Seth said.

Penelope swung around, gaping at him in speechless panic while he covered the lower half of his body with the rumpled green, gold, and maroon striped damask coverlet. She'd hoped that if she lurked at the side of the tall wardrobe and remained silent, she might escape the porter's notice. But if Seth expected her to instruct the man in his duties …

“… I can't,” she blurted out.

“Sure you can. All you have to do is open the door and tell the porter where to put the tub. He'll do the rest.”

“It's not that. It's just that if Adele finds out that I was here this morning, she'll—” Penelope shut her mouth abruptly.

“Adele will what?” Seth asked softly. He hadn't miss her obvious terror of her employer's disapproval.

“N-nothing,” she stammered, examining the dressing gown in her hands with sudden fascination. “S-she'll scold me, that's all. She demands a high degree of decorum from her performers.”

Seth made a derogatory noise. “If Miles is a shining example of her idea of decorum, I doubt she'll so much as bat an eyelash at the news of you being in my room.”

“Miles is her son. The rules don't apply to him,” she admitted miserably. “Besides, he's a man. As you well know, society is much more tolerant of men's indiscretions.”

Again there was a flurry of knocks, accompanied by the impatience-tinged announcement, “Porter, Mr. Tyler!”