She looked at the ground so he wouldn’t see her disappointment. Her common sense applauded the decision. Sitting on a picnic blanket, sharing kisses and confidences with Nathan, was clearly not prudent. Her heart, however, yearned to spend the rest of the day right here.
These feelings were simply not part of her plan, yet she was at a loss as to how to stop them. Had it been only two days ago that she’d thought she could walk away from here, free of Nathan and unaffected by their encounter? Yes. Yet here she sat, after such a short time, already feeling anything but free and most definitely affected. If he could wreak such havoc with her plans in a mere two days, what on earth would he do in two weeks’ time?
God help her, she didn’t know if the possibilities more frightened her or thrilled her.
Fourteen
by Charles Brightmore
Three hours after arriving back at Creston Manor and leaving Victoria in the drawing room with her aunt, Nathan still paced the confines of his bedchamber, his thoughts knotted like a hopelessly tangled ball of yarn. He should be concentrating on figuring out where the jewels might be hidden. Should actually be out looking for them. But he’d given his word not to conduct any searches without Victoria, and spending more time in her company right now was simply not a good idea. Not when his command over himself teetered so close to the edge. Bloody hell, she’d set him on fire. Simply by sitting on a blanket. Watching her eat had proven an exercise in torture, requiring a monumental effort not to fling their meal aside and simply snatch her into his arms. He’d thought that lying back, closing his eyes so he couldn’t see her would help, but his reclined position had only served to make him burn to pull her on top of him.
He raked his hands through his hair and blew out a long breath. Damn it, he’d known lust before, but
When the need to have his hands on her, to kiss her, had finally become unbearable, he’d given in, but had forcibly restrained himself, barely touching her. He’d succeeded, but the effort had cost him. He’d desperately wanted to remain by the stream with her, prolong their outing, but he knew his limits, and he’d reached them. One more touch, one more kiss, would have snapped his tenuous control.
He paused by the window, looking down at the expanse of lawns, the soaring trees, and the slice of white- capped blue water visible in the distance. The sight had always soothed him. But not now. Every nerve and muscle pulled with tension, and a sense of frustration such as he’d never known prowled through him. And damn it, it was all her fault.
Dragging his hands down his face, he groaned. Had he actually believed he could resist her? Yes, he had. And perhaps he might have been able to if his attraction had remained purely physical. He’d at least had a prayer of standing his ground against a woman who was merely beautiful. An even better chance if she proved shallow, superficial, and annoying, as he’d assumed Victoria ultimately would.
But how could he withstand the allure of a woman who was not only beautiful, but exhibited so many other facets that he found irresistible? He’d desired her the moment he’d set eyes on her, but each moment spent in her company revealed another unexpected layer of her personality, which only increased his hunger for her.
She’d proven herself unafraid to stand up to him. She was amusing. Witty. Intelligent. She’d offered him sympathy, kindness, and understanding. Believed him innocent of wrongdoing. Tried to befriend his ducks. She liked his cat. His dog. His cat and dog liked her in return. In spite of all her possessions, she’d suffered loneliness, and the fact that she would have given up all those possessions, her beauty, for one more day with her mother…
Damn it, he hadn’t expected her to be… vulnerable. Hadn’t anticipated her touching his heart. Hadn’t wanted to care about her like this. In this heart-tugging, gut-wrenching, mind-numbing way. A woman who would never be his. A woman who, within a matter of weeks, would be engaged to another man.
“Augh!” He pressed the heels of his hands against his eyelids to blot out the torturous image of her lifting her face for another man’s kiss. Enough. He needed to clear his mind of her. Erase the taste and feel and scent of her. Had to start concentrating on the things he should be thinking about. The jewels. So he could either find them or be convinced there was no hope of finding them so he could then pack up his belongings and animals and return to his peaceful life.
A swim. A long, brisk swim in the cold water would set him back to rights. Cool this unwanted ardor and force his thoughts back on the proper path.
Relieved to have a plan, he quickly exited his bedchamber. When he entered the foyer, he asked Langston in an undertone, “Where is everyone?”
“Your brother rode into Penzance with instructions to not expect him until late,” the butler reported in a hushed tone. “Your father, Lady Victoria, and Lady Delia are having tea on the terrace.”
Excellent. He could easily avoid the terrace. “If anyone asks, you haven’t seen me. I’ll return for dinner.”
“Yes, Dr. Nathan.”
Breathing a sigh of relief, Nathan left the house.
Victoria stirred a lump of sugar into her third cup of tea and nodded absently at whatever Aunt Delia was saying. Not that it mattered that she wasn’t paying attention to the conversation about some party Aunt Delia and Lord Rutledge had both attended over a decade earlier, as she was convinced that her presence was quite forgotten. There hadn’t been a break in the lively chatter between her aunt and Lord Rutledge since they’d sat down to tea an hour earlier. She’d considered excusing herself, but she couldn’t resist the lure of the gorgeous late afternoon weather. And if she remained indoors, she would be alone with her thoughts-not something she cared to contemplate. There’d be plenty of time for that during the long night ahead.
Besides, it was a pleasure to see her aunt so animated and thoroughly enjoying herself. There were a number of gentlemen with whom Aunt Delia occasionally attended the opera, and she never lacked for partners at a ball, but she insisted those men were merely friends of long standing.
Never had Victoria seen her aunt blush. A becoming pink flush colored her face as she laughed at something Lord Rutledge, who was also clearly enjoying himself, said.
A muffled tapping on the flagstones behind her caught Victoria’s attention and she turned. B.C., head held regally high, trotted across the terrace toward her. Upon his arrival, he bumped his massive head against her thigh. With a quiet laugh, she scratched behind his ears while he lifted his nose and sniffed the air.
“Smell biscuits, do you?” she murmured. The eager look in his intelligent dark eyes clearly indicated he did. She broke off a piece of her biscuit and offered the morsel to B.C., who, after eating it, rested his head on her lap and gazed up at her adoringly.
“Hmmm. I suppose I’m to think this attention springs from gratitude, but I suspect it’s because you want more.”
For an answer, B.C. stood at attention, licked his chops, then sent a pleading glance toward the remaining biscuit on her plate. “And I suppose you expect me to share the rest of my last biscuit with you?”
B.C. instantly plopped onto his bottom and raised his right forepaw.
