Part 9 (2/2)
”Miss. Stuart,” he said softly, ”I always mean what I say.”
”I was just worried that you didn't really want to go” -- ”Oh, for G.o.d's sake! I'm going. We're going. Tomorrow.
That is, if you get up on time.”
She smiled, then forgot her animosity toward him, and just about everything else for that matter. She threw back the covers and leaped from the bed and raced toward him, casting herself into his arms. His hands came around her as he held her uptight, his arms wrapping around her. ”Thank you!” she said earnestly. Then she realized what she had done and how she was standing.
And that them wasn't much of anything between them. She could feel the pressure of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s against the hardness of his body, and she knew that the thin cotton gown wasn't hiding anything of herself.
She backed away, swallowing fiercely.
”Thank you,” she repeated.
”I.
really do appreciate it. Very much. I don't suppose that you could ever understand, but I do.” The gown was falling off her shoulder again. She tried to retrieve it. Then she realized that she was standing in the morning sunlight and that every curve and twist of her form, and even the shadows of her body, would be completely evident to him.
And her body was warming, and she was certain that her b.r.e.a.s.t.s were swelling, and she was breathing far too quickly, and he could probably see the pounding of her heart.
”Sincerely, thank you.” And she was still muttering. A broad grin stretched across his features. She plunged quickly into the bed beneath the covers.
”Miss. Stuart?”
”'yes?”
”Do me a favor once we're under way, will you?”
”What's that?”
”Please don't chatter away endlessly like that, huh?” ”I never chatter!”
she said indignantly.
”Never?” His brow arched.
She flushed.
”Almost never. Lieutenant, do you realiz~ how very rude you're being?
You've disturbed my sleep, and now you haven't the decency to leave me alone to dress.” His eyes fell upon her. Lingered over her. He was still smiling.
”Do excuse me then, Miss. Stuart. But count on this--for the next few days, I'll disturb your sleep often.”
He tipped his hat to her and strode from the room. Tess pulled the covers close around her, then she smiled and sank low into the bed.
It was a busy day for Jamie. Jon Red Feather was going to be accompanying him, but other than that, they would travel alone. Since he didn't know quite what he was going to come up against, he spent a fair amount of time determining what he wanted to pack on the supply horses and what he might bring in Tess Stuart's wagon.
Dealing with Colonel Worthingham hadn't been hard. Eliza had been behind the trouble, he had known that.
Worthingham might be blind about his daughter, but he was a good officer.
Not that Eliza wasn't careful. She had been with Worthingham when Jamie went to see him. She had spoken of the danger, of how Jamie was needed at the post, and she had been so sweet no one might ever have suspected her of having an evil thought.
Worthingham had suggested that another man might do the job; Jamie had politely reminded him that he wasn't officially in the cavalry anymore, and that had done the trick. He had three months now, three months on his own.
And Jon was his own man. He always had been. Jamie was glad Jon was coming along, even if he was being a thorn in Jamie's side over Tess. As if the minx needed any champions. The girl did know how to fight her own battles.
He didn't want to battle, he thought. He closed his eyes, then remembered the way she had looked that morning, half dressed and completely seductive, the outline of her delineated by the sunlight against the soft white cotton.
And she 83 had smiled and thrown herself into his arms. He remembered the taste and feel and texture of her and had known that he had to get out of the room before he took a running leap and fell upon her in the disarray of her gown and covers.
He was a fool. He should be steering as clear of her as he could.
Instead, he had given his word to take her to Wilts.h.i.+re. And he kept his word.
There was just so much he wanted from her in return. And she was desperate enough to give it.
That wasn't the way he wanted her, he told himself. But then he reflected that he wanted her in any way possible, and he wasn't quite sure ethics entered into the question. And he had to stop thinking about her. He clenched his teeth and set to work.
It took most of the day to requisition the weapons and ammunition he wanted to take. It was dark by the time he was ready to return to his rooms. He wanted a good dinner and a long, hot bath before he started out on the trail.
His orderly would have arranged for his bath. When he opened the door to his office and saw that the lantern had been lit and a steaming hip bath set in the bedroom, he breathed a sigh of relief. He tossed his hat onto a chair, unbuckled his scabbard and holster and set his weapons on his desk. He pulled off his boots and left them where they fell.
By the time he reached the doorway to the bedroom, his s.h.i.+rt was unb.u.t.toned and he was flinging it on the floor. He was anxious for the bath.
But then he paused in his trousers, his eyes narrowing. He wasn't alone.
Eliza was in the bedroom. And Eliza had been in his bath. She was curled up on his bed, her dark hair damp and forming tiny ringlets to frame her face.
She wasn't exactly naked, but her appearance would have been less decadent if she had been. She was wearing a lace corset he could almost see through, and which lifted her cleavage to bold new heights. She wore some kind of silk and lace pantalets, and nothing else.
”I came to say goodbye,” she told him huskily. ”Eliza, you're a fool,”
he told her irritably.
”What the devil do you think you're doing in my room?”
”Aren't you glad to see me?”
”Frankly, no.”
She curled up on the bed, watching him like a cat.
”I'm not letting you go off with that little blond s.l.u.t.”
”Eliza, take a look at yourself and think about what you're saying.”
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