Chapter
Six
Boone’s arm was hooked around her waist, keeping
her firmly against his side as they climbed the stairs to their
rooms. Conscious of her hip rubbing against his thigh with each
step, Laura stole a glance at his face, noting the faintly smug
curve to his mouth.
“You certainly seem rather pleased with
yourself,” she observed.
“Why shouldn’t I be?” He smiled down on
her. “After all, I did win.”
“So you did,” Laura agreed easily.
“Although having me for a partner meant that Sebastian was obliged
to play with something of a handicap.” It was a mischievous
perversity that prompted her to argue Sebastian’s
side.
But Boone seemed to sense that and
didn’t rise to the bait. “Did you expect me to play with one hand
tied behind my back to make up for it?”
She released a breathy laugh and shook
her head. “Not you. You’ll make use of every advantage you
can.”
“Wouldn’t you?” he
countered.
“Probably,” Laura admitted as they
reached the top of the steps.
“Damn right you would,” Boone stated.
“Like me, you play to win or you don’t play.”
“Is that right?” she challenged
playfully as they continued along the hall toward her
room.
“You know it is,” he replied. “But I
don’t expect you to admit it.”
Inwardly Laura acknowledged that truth
about herself. To her thinking, it didn’t make sense to undertake
something unless it was with the intention of
succeeding.
When they arrived at the door to her
room, she turned toward him and leaned back against the jamb,
tilting her face up to him. “I suppose as the victor you intend to
claim the spoils.” There was an instant darkening of his eyes,
desire heating them. When he made that initial move to claim the
invitation from her lips, Laura added, “And I warn you, I am
spoiled.”
In answer, his mouth came down to claim
her lips in a driving kiss that was rough with need. Laura absorbed
its bruising force, so stimulated by its pent-up hunger that her
own blood suddenly ran sweet and fast. His arm circled her waist to
arch her against his length, leaving her in no doubt as to the
extent of his arousal.
Unexpectedly, he dragged his mouth from
hers and bowed his head for an instant. There was a piercing
blackness to his eyes when he finally met her curious
gaze.
“Sometimes I think you’re trying to
spoil me for anyone else.” The roughness of his voice made it a
kind of accusation.
Those were heady words. Laura was
careful not to show how welcome they were as she crossed her hands
behind his neck and let her fingers idly toy with his close-cropped
hair. “Could I do that?”
He looked at her for a long second.
“I’m beginning to think you can.”
It was such a grudging admission she
had to smile. “Being spoiled can have its own rewards.” Rising up
on tiptoes, she pressed a quick, warm kiss on his lips and
immediately drew back before he could make more of it, and reached
behind her to turn the doorknob. “Good night. I’ll see you in the
morning.”
She left him standing there, stunned by
the suddenness of her escape, and slipped inside the room, quickly
closing the door behind her and leaning against it, savoring the
satisfaction of the moment. After a short pause, she heard the
sound of his footsteps moving away. She hadn’t been sure he would
leave, and waited a beat to make certain he wasn’t coming back,
then pushed away from the door.
Laura hadn’t taken two steps into the
room when some inner sense warned her she wasn’t alone. Muscles
tensing in vague alarm, she turned and made a visual sweep of the
room. The search halted. For a startled instant, she simply stared
at Sebastian, stretched out on her bed, reclining against its
pillows.
“What are you doing in here?” she
asked, wavering between shock and amusement.
“You did mention earlier that you
wondered whether you would be having a surprise visitor,” Sebastian
reminded her and uncrossed his legs to swing them off the bed and
stand up. “I didn’t want to disappoint you.”
Amusement reigned as she shook her head
and sighed.
“But how did you get in here? I just
left you downstairs.”
His expression was one of mock
consternation. “I must have neglected to mention on the tour that
Crawford Hall, like other old manors, contains secret passageways.
How remiss of me.”
“Secret passageways. Where?” Her
curiosity aroused, she looked about the room.
Sebastian clucked his tongue in
reproach. “If I told you, it wouldn’t be secret anymore, now would
it?”
“Stop being so mysterious.” Her smile
chided him even as her pulse fluttered at his sauntering approach.
“Tell me.”
Pausing in front of her, he released an
exaggerated sigh. “Very well, if you insist. You happen to be
standing in one of the older sections of Crawford Hall. This room
was in fact the master bedroom—”
Laura interrupted, “Which goes back to
the days when husbands and wives didn’t sleep
together.”
“You remembered,” he said with a nod of
approval.
“My retention level is very high.” At
the moment, it was their night in Rome she was remembering,
especially his unique style of lovemaking. It had her heart beating
a little faster.
“That’s good to know.” Something in his
look suggested he was remembering, too. “But as I was saying, one
of my long-ago ancestors apparently had a dislike for wasted steps.
Hence he had the architect include a hidden staircase in his
design, linking the master bedroom and the library.”
Laura made another quick scan of the
room and guessed, “The bookshelves flanking the fireplace—one of
them is the door.”
“The one on the right,” Sebastian
confirmed.
“That hidden staircase wouldn’t have
anything to do with your reason for selecting this room for me,
would it?” She eyed him with the full expectation that his answer
would be in the affirmative.
Sebastian chose to neither confirm nor
deny that. “It does facilitate privacy for late-night visits. Don’t
you agree?” He stood close but made no move to touch her. His
failure to touch her only served to make her doubly aware of the
scant inches that separated them.
“Do you make a habit of assigning your
female guests to this room?” she challenged.
“Only the very attractive ones.” He
trailed his fingertips along the shoulder seam of her dress,
following its line to the curve of her neck. Her skin tingled under
the lightness of the contact. It was as if every inch of her body
became sensitized.
“Why does that not surprise me?” Laura
murmured, aware that her voice had become breathy.
“Aren’t you going to ask how many women
have occupied this room before you?” His fingertips lightly
explored the pulsing vein in her neck, following it to the lobe of
her ear.
She had a catlike urge to rub her cheek
against his palm to encourage the fullness of his caress. “How
many?” She all but purred the question.
“As it happens, you’re the
first.”
“You don’t really expect me to believe
that, do you?” She showed her skepticism.
“If you’ll recall, I did say I put only
the very attractive ones in this room—and you are the first who
qualified.”
“Flatterer,” she chided, her eyelids
fluttering half-closed as his fingers made a slow track up to her
cheekbone and down her cheek to the corner of her
lips.
“It’s no flattery. You are incredibly
beautiful,” Sebastian stated, then added in a musing tone. “Perhaps
the portrait is to blame for it, but I have the distinct feeling
that you have always been a part of my life. It’s difficult to
believe we met only a few nights ago in Rome.”
“But it was a very memorable night.”
Laura was conscious of her whole body straining toward him, wanting
his touch. When his fingertips lightly brushed over the curve of
her lower lip, need trembled through her. “Do you always tantalize
a girl like this?” she said in protest.
“Considering you just came from another
man’s arms, I thought you might need time to adjust to the idea of
going into another’s,” he replied smoothly.
“Were you watching us through some
secret peephole?” In truth, she was more amused than outraged at
the possibility.
“No.” His mouth crooked. “It’s much
more elementary than that. Standing this close, I can smell his
cologne on your skin. It has a heavy citrusy scent that’s a bit
overpowering.”
A smile grooved little dimples in her
cheeks. “Your middle name must be Sherlock. Sebastian Sherlock
Dunshill.”
“It definitely has a ring to
it.”
“Indeed it does,” Laura agreed and
tipped her head in an age-old invitation. “In case you’re
wondering, I have adjusted to the idea. Will you kiss me
now?”
“With pleasure.” But it was nothing he
rushed as his mouth made a slow descent to her lips and moved over
them in a sensual delving of their softness.
It was a lazy heat that started low and
gradually engulfed her. His arms encircled her, his hands molding
her to his shape, demonstrating how perfectly a man and woman could
fit together. When his hand cupped the underside of her breast,
desire swelled within her.
All the while there was the magic of
his drugging kisses—on her lips, her neck, her cheek, and back to
her lips again. Laura had a rational moment to marvel that
lovemaking could be so beautiful. Beautiful and rapturous, without
haste or demand, just an endless giving of pleasure. She only knew
she never wanted it to end.
The light tap-tap-tap at her door barely registered. Then Tara’s
muffled voice intruded. “Laura. It’s Tara. May I come
in?”
The request was immediately followed by
a turning of the doorknob. Sebastian’s hands gripped her shoulders
and set her away from him as the door swung open and Tara walked
in.
For a split second Tara froze at the
sight of him. “Sebastian. I didn’t know you were here.” Her voice
was unexpectedly cool with challenge. It matched the tilt of her
chin and the veiled censure in her gaze.
“I came by to see if Laura wanted to go
for a morning canter tomorrow,” he explained with a smoothness that
Laura wanted to applaud.
There was no doubt in her mind that she
looked as if she had just been thoroughly kissed, which she had.
And she wasn’t the least bit embarrassed about it.
“Naturally I told him he could count on
me,” Laura said. “Would you like to ride along, Tara?”
“I’ll see how I feel in the morning,”
she replied, effectively dismissing the topic as she once again
fixed her dark gaze on Sebastian. “I need to speak to Laura. Would
you mind?”
“Not at all,” he assured her and
glanced at Laura. “Good night”
“Good night. I’ll see you in the
morning,” she said with regret.
“In your riding clothes,” Sebastian
added, throwing her a smile before nodding to Tara and moving past
her into the hall.
With deliberation, Tara closed the door
behind him, paused, then turned to face Laura, her expression one
of thoughtful study. Laura sensed at once that something was wrong.
It put her on guard. Disguising her unrest with an air of normalcy,
she walked over to Tara and turned, presenting her back. “Unzip me,
will you?”
After a slight hesitation, Tara lowered
the zipper, and Laura moved away, stepping out of the dress as she
went. Clad only in her slip and underclothes, she crossed to the
bed and slipped off her shoes.
“You said you needed to talk to me,”
she prompted when Tara remained silent. “Did my mother
call?”
“No. As far as I know, everything is
fine there. I need to speak to you about something else.” Tara
moved into the room and walked directly toward the cozy sitting
area. “Let’s sit down over here.”
“This sounds serious,” Laura remarked
in a deliberately light tone, noting that Tara seemed uncertain
about how to bring up the subject she wanted to
discuss.
“I don’t know whether ‘serious’ is the
particular word I would use. But I do think it could be important.”
Tara sat down in one of the plumply cushioned armchairs and waited
for Laura to join her.
Laura curled up in a twin to it.
“Important how?”
“That remains to be seen,” Tara
replied, hedging again. “You see, some information has come to my
attention.”
Suddenly several seemingly unrelated
items solidified into one in Laura’s mind. “If I had to guess, I’d
say that Max is the source of your information.”
Surprise flickered ever so briefly in
Tara’s expression at the astuteness of Laura’s statement. It was
quickly followed by a look of admiration and approval.
“As a matter of fact, he is,” Tara
admitted. “Obviously I haven’t had an opportunity to verify
anything he told me. At the same time, I have no reason to believe
it isn’t true.”
Something else clicked into place.
“It’s about Sebastian, isn’t it? I remember that Max didn’t look at
all surprised when Sebastian told us he was the current earl of
Crawford.”
“Really? I didn’t notice.” Nor was it
of much interest to Tara at the moment. “It seems that Sebastian
inherited the title after his older brother was killed in a plane
crash this past winter. At the time, there was already a sizable
mortgage on the property, a debt incurred by his brother in order
to raise sufficient money to pay the taxes that came due when he
inherited the title from their father. Sebastian is now facing a
similar tax obligation—and few ways to satisfy it. Unless he can
lay his hands on a very large sum of money in a very short period
of time, it is likely he will have to sell all, or a major portion,
of the estate to satisfy it.”
Laura absorbed the sobering information
without comment. She knew there was more, or Tara wouldn’t be
having this conversation with her.
“To be honest, Laura,” Tara sat
forward, clasping her hands together in an earnest pose, “Max
thinks it’s possible that Sebastian might be desperate enough to
marry someone—anyone—with money. And he’s concerned that Sebastian
might have set his sights on you.”
“What do you
think?” Laura asked, stalling for time while she tried to
understand her own reaction to the information.
“I think it’s entirely possible that he
has,” Tara replied frankly. “But I also know that you are much too
intelligent to be taken in by a fortune hunter.”
But the unsolicited vote of confidence
didn’t make Laura feel better. Suddenly tense and restless, she
surrendered to the need for action and rose from the chair.
Resisting the urge to pace, she walked over to the bed and picked
up the dress she had flung onto it.
“I wonder what he was doing in Rome,”
she mused aloud, as she slipped the dress on a hanger and carried
it to the wardrobe closet. “Do you suppose he went there to see if
the contessa would loan him the
money?”
“Who’s to say?” Tara shrugged off the
question. “If he did, I doubt that he was successful. The count is
notoriously tightfisted, and the contessa
has very little funds of her own.”
Laura had no reason to question the
certainty in Tara’s voice. Tara was rarely wrong about such things.
And it was unlikely that Max was, either.
“Are you all right,
Laura?”
She spun around. At the last second,
she managed to bite back the sharp retort she had been about to
make and smiled instead. “I’m fine.” The lie came smoothly. “Why
shouldn’t I be? After all, I hardly know the man. It’s unfortunate
that he’s in such a difficult financial situation, but it doesn’t
have anything to do with me. And after what you’ve told me, you can
be sure that it won’t.”
“Of course.” A look of fresh ease
claimed Tara’s countenance, brightening her eyes and relaxing her
smile. “I guess I was worried that you might have become a bit fond
of him.”
“A handsome devil like him, of course I
have.” Laura made the breezy admission without hesitation. “Who
wouldn’t?” She pulled open a bureau drawer and took out her
nightgown and matching robe.
Tara laughed. “You’re absolutely
right,” she said, clearly reassured that there was no reason for
any concern. “Just the same, I feel better now that you know about
this.”
“True,” Laura agreed in a deliberately
casual tone of voice. “As the old saying goes, ‘to be forewarned is
to be forearmed.’ ”
“That’s exactly the way I looked at
it,” Tara replied and straightened from the chair. “Are you still
going riding with him in the morning?”
“Of course. You don’t think I’m going
to pass up the chance to gallop across the country, do you? It’s
been much too long since I’ve been on the back of a horse. That’s
the one thing about the ranch that I do miss.”
“Just make sure you don’t get thrown.
Your mother would have my head if anything happened to
you.”
“Not if it happened on a horse. That’s
something she would understand.”
“You’re probably right.” Tara glanced
at the nightclothes in Laura’s hands. “I’ll say good night and let
you get ready for bed.”
“See you in the morning.” Laura worked
to sound casually offhand.
But the minute the door closed behind
Tara, Laura dropped all pretense that nothing was wrong. Giving
rein to the turbulence within, she tossed the robe and nightgown on
a chair and crossed to a window. She stared into the night-darkened
landscape, indifferent to the scattering of stars and the leafy
silhouettes of the trees.
Hurt, that was what she felt. Laura
tried to remember the last time she had been genuinely hurt by
someone, but couldn’t.
She was stunned to discover that she
felt like crying. Pride wouldn’t let her give in to tears. Instead
she went straight to the private bath and stood beneath the shower
spray until the feeling went away.