Margo Maguire (14 page)

Or had she experienced the same dream he had?

Lilly would not let on that she knew exactly what had happened when Samuel had closed his eyes. Or that she’d felt every fondling touch, every caress and the world-shattering conclusion to their lovemaking.

She closed her eyes as the buggy flew down the
hill, and tried to block out the vivid images of the two of them intertwined, sharing the most intimate of acts.

But the memory of their encounter would not leave her. Watching the mountainside shatter alongside Penny Top was nothing compared to what she’d shared with Samuel. Every detail was indelibly burned into her mind—something to remember and cherish once Samuel had left Ravenwell forever.

“Are you all right?” he asked once he’d stopped the buggy from its mad retreat.

She felt his eyes on her, and knew she must try to appear as if the only thing that had occurred was the sudden avalanche. She would never admit to seducing him without his knowledge or consent. Without his active participation. “I—I suppose so. That was…”

“A more unstable spot than you thought. You shouldn’t go back up there…” His voice sounded harsh and strained. Risking a glance toward his face, she saw a raw hunger in his expression, and a passion that was barely leashed. “…unless you’re with me.”

Lilly could not respond. Samuel’s body leaned toward hers, his head dipping close, until they were but a breath apart.

“If you don’t mind, Lilly,” he whispered, “I believe I’m going to kiss you.”

T
he desire to taste her lips was as strong as Sam’s need to breathe.

He moved closer, inhaling her scent, anticipating the touch of her soft lips against his. He could hear his blood pounding in his ears, feel the sweat beading on his forehead.

Christ! What was he doing?

He pulled back and dropped his head into his hands. Desire warred with the irrational dread that kept him separate from her—from everyone.

Sam’s hands shook, and Lilly trembled beside him. He could feel her breathless expectation, sense the same ardor in her that drove him. But he could not bring himself to touch her. There was nothing he could do to overcome the barrier keeping him from making their experience on Penny Top a reality.

He swallowed thickly and took control of the overpowering arousal he felt. It was clear that the strange dream had addled his senses. Just because he’d made love to Lilly in some unreal fantasy did not mean he was capable of making it occur in reality.

He had to get back to Ravenwell and leave Lilly there. A bit of distance was what he needed. And work. He had the notes and drawings he’d made earlier, and he really ought to add them to his data. And there were photographs to be taken of the hive in the chestnut tree.

In short, the more he concentrated on his project, the less he would think about Lilly Tearwater and all the strange events on Penny Top.

Her eyes were full of questions when he glanced her way, but neither of them spoke as he flicked the reins and continued down the path.

Lilly’s nerves were still shaky when Samuel left her at the door of the inn and drove off. He had planned to kiss her. But the obstacles in his mind kept him from going through with it.

A lady would have been piqued by the effrontery of his attempted kiss, and relieved when he retreated. Yet Lilly could feel nothing but a terrible emptiness, a loneliness clear through to her soul.

“The door to Mrs. Evanston’s bedroom is stuck,” Mrs. Bainbridge announced when Lilly entered the front door. “And the apricots that were delivered yesterday are all spoiled. Mr. Clive is in an absolute snit over it.”

“Yes,” Lilly said absently. “They were for a sauce that he’d planned…”

“Well, Davy is working on the door,” Mrs. Bainbridge said. “And there’s naught to be done about the apricots. Are you feeling well?”

“Oh.” She must cease her ruminations and get to work. Mrs. Bainbridge never worked a full day on Sundays, and it was nearly time for her to leave.
“Yes, fine. Let me just change clothes and I’ll take over.”

“What happened to your skirts? You look as if you’ve tramped the whole of Cumbria in them.”

“No, just up one of the paths. I’ll be right out.” She circled ’round the desk and entered her private rooms, eager to escape Mrs. Bainbridge’s inquiries.

The experience on Penny Top raised a number of questions of her own that Lilly could not face. At least, not now. Not while her nerves still hummed with the awareness of what she’d shared with Samuel.

She now knew how it would feel to become his lover.

It was quiet in the apartment, and Lilly was struck with the thought that this must be how Charlotte’s world must seem. Utterly silent.

Lilly wondered what would happen if she
changed
Charlotte. What if she fixed her ears so that she could hear? Would she would be able to speak, to converse about the day’s events? To share the experiences that made up her day?

Would she still need Lilly?

The question was moot. Changing Charlotte would be wrong—besides, some unpredictable, terrible event would happen along with the cure.

But still, Lilly wished she had someone to talk to.

She was so lonely. And her loneliness and frustration grew with every month, with every passing year she was compelled to stay at Ravenwell.

But there were a hundred things to do before tea, and Lilly had no time to ruminate over her situation. She changed clothes and went to the kitchen, somehow managing to soothe Mr. Clive’s frayed nerves.
They settled on a new menu for supper, and when Lilly left, the staff had already begun preparations for tea.

She saw Samuel return to the inn from the barn, but he did not stop on his way to his room.

Lilly could not blame him. After all that had happened on Penny Top, it was likely that the mere sight of her embarrassed him.

Or her actions had made him believe he was losing his mind.

Sam was sure he must be losing his mind.

He gritted his teeth. He could
not
have made love to Lilly. They hadn’t even been physically close when the avalanche had startled him into reality. Their clothes were intact, and there was no sign that he had ever touched her.

Except for the unmistakable feeling of satisfaction that came from knowing her intimately, from spilling his seed inside her.

None of it made sense. Not from the moment he’d closed his eyes on Penny Top until the mountainside had come crashing down beside them.

The urge to kiss Lilly when they got to safer ground was the only understandable event of the morning. Whatever had happened on Penny Top, it had caused a driving desire to hold her.

That desire had not yet abated.

But what could he do about it? Storm the inn and take her in his arms? The dream that he’d had on Penny Top had changed nothing. It was folly to think that he could suddenly master his aversion to touch, just because an hallucination made him believe he could make love to Lilly.

He turned his attention to the bee he had marked. It would visit hundreds of blossoms before returning to the hive, and it was a mindless task to follow it as it made its path through the meadow. Unfortunately, that gave him too much time to ponder his present dilemma and his future as a professor at the Royal College.

Sam didn’t know how he could face it.

There had to be a way to overcome his malady so that he could undertake the project in India with Mr. Phipson’s group.

If only Sam could figure out how.

When the bee’s pollen sacs were nearly full, Sam headed back to the chestnut tree and climbed onto his platform to focus his camera, ready to photograph the insect when it returned to the hive. He did not need photographic evidence to prove his theory, but it would add a modern dimension to the paper when it was published. Later, he would measure the distance and direction the bee had flown.

Even without accurate measurements, Sam could predict the movements the bee would make when it returned to the hive. He’d documented these movements hundreds of times before, and knew that this was the bee’s way of communicating with the other workers in the hive.

He was certain the bee was telling the hive exactly where she’d been, what distance and direction, where to find food.

Sam was ready to study mammals again. The opportunity to do research on the chinkara population of Maharashtra would come about once in a lifetime. He would be a fool to turn it down.

“Turned warm today, eh, Mr. Temple?” called
Tom Fletcher, standing near the base of the tree. Sam hadn’t even heard the man’s approach.

“That just might be an understatement, Fletcher,” Sam replied. He took his photograph, then covered his camera.

“Will you be in for a bit of swimming?”

Sam mopped his brow. He was hot and uncomfortable. A swim would feel great just about now. “Sure.”

“Come on, then. Get your swimming costume and meet me at the beach.”

Most of the guests were on the terrace having tea, anxious to catch any breeze that might cool them.

Mr. Dawson sat with his friend, George Hamlet, who had arrived on the noon train. The newcomer was not much taller than Lilly, but he was built like a bull. Thick about the shoulders and waist, the man appeared as solid as a brick. He was a good deal younger than Mr. Dawson, though his ruddy face would never be called handsome.

His nose was crooked and his lips were hardly visible, his mouth being a bare slit above a squat chin. The stylish muttonchops on his cheeks did nothing to improve his features, and Lilly felt a pang of sympathy for his homeliness.

She was surprised to see Miss Simpson again, sitting between the two gentlemen as the three of them took their tea. The old spinster beamed with delight to be in the company of the two Londoners, and Lilly wondered if the woman’s brother knew she was spending time with a stranger.

Deciding it was not her concern, Lilly followed Charlotte into their apartment and changed into her
bathing costume. The weather had turned so hot and close that she had allowed herself to be talked into going for a swim. But there wasn’t much time.

She’d put Davy in charge of the reception desk, and Lilly did not anticipate any problems. But she didn’t like to leave him alone for too long. He was young and needed direction.

However, anything that had to be done in the next hour would have to wait.

After all that had happened, and the questions that plagued her, Lilly welcomed even a brief interlude at the lake. It wasn’t often that she or Charlotte were able to take an afternoon to do nothing but laze in the water.

They followed the path down to the beach and saw that quite a number of Ravenwell guests had had the same idea. Greeting those they knew, Lilly and her sister quickly made their escape and skirted ’round to the far side of the rocks. They headed toward the stretch of beach and the sheltered cove where they’d done their swimming ever since they were children.

Charlotte indicated that Tom would meet them there, and a moment later, Lilly caught sight of him tromping out of the water, dressed in a striped swimming costume. He was covered from his neck to his knees, but his arms were bare and pasty-white from the elbows up.

He was smiling and playful, so different from the staid and solid sheep farmer he’d grown up to be.

“Come on! Come on!” he shouted. “Put down your things and jump in! We’ve been waiting hours for you!”

Charlotte had already dropped her towel onto the sand and was sloshing into the waves. Lilly placed
her canvas bag on a rock at the edge of the sand. She sat down beside it and unfastened her shoes, then debated whether to remove her stockings in the bright daylight.

Tom always mocked their bathing costumes, saying that all those clothes were more likely to drown them than protect their modesty. And Lilly had to agree. She leaned over and rolled down her stockings, then stood and unfastened the skirt of her swimming clothes. Wearing only bloomers and her blouse, she dashed toward the water and threw herself into it, feeling immediately refreshed.

Taking long strokes, Lilly swam out toward the “Rocky Isles,” as she and Tom had called the natural formation of rocks where the three of them had climbed and played as children. Raising her head above the surface of the water, she pulled herself up onto a rock, only to come face-to-face with Samuel.

“You’re a strong swimmer,” he said, his eyes coursing over her wet bathing costume, then boldly appraising her bare arms and legs. Only once before had Lilly felt more naked—this morning on Penny Top, when they’d undressed each other.

But that hadn’t been real.

“I’ll race you to the island!” Lilly cried, and dived into the water. She felt him plunge in after her, but paid no attention as he kept pace with her. The island was only a few yards away, and when they reached its bank, Lilly remained in the water. She was not going to expose herself to his view again.

“I beat you!” she exclaimed.

“Ha!” He splashed her. “You most certainly did not, even though I gave you a head start!”

With a laugh, she sank below the surface and
kicked away from Samuel. He gave chase, but never managed to catch her, even though he was agile and his strokes much more powerful than her own.

He could easily have captured her if he’d wanted to do so.

“I’ve never seen a swimming dress like yours,” he said, and Lilly felt herself blush. “Is it some new fashion for women?”

“Hardly.” She swam away, unwilling to admit that she intentionally flaunted the boundaries of propriety.

He caught up to her. “Don’t be offended. I like it,” he said with a wink, then swam to the rocks, where he climbed up and sat looking toward the middle of the lake.

Lilly joined him on the edge and dangled her legs in the water, less concerned by her inadequate attire. She was much more interested in the play of muscles in Samuel’s arms, and the thick, damp hair on his brawny legs. She was entranced watching his long, tapered feet kick at the clear water below them.

The same amazing tension Lilly had experienced on Penny Top started to coil in her belly as she sat near Samuel, and she yearned for the intimate touch that would release that tension in a torrent of pleasure. She wondered if he was thinking of the intimacies they’d shared while he believed he was dreaming.

Lilly should never have listened to Mrs. Fletcher’s talk about shriveled turnips. It had made her act rashly again.

Samuel stood abruptly and jumped into the water, swimming toward shore. But then he stopped and rolled to the surface to lie on his back, gently kicking
his feet to stay afloat. Lilly jumped in and swam up beside him, but he did not turn his head to look at her.

“I could float out here for hours,” he said. “The water is soothing. When you close your eyes, and your ears are below the surface of the water, it’s as if you’re alone in the world.”

“Is that how you’d prefer to be? Alone?”

“No.” The sound was a hoarse rasp. He shifted his body so that he was upright in the deep water, facing her. “I want you, Lilly. I want to take you in my arms and feel your skin, bare against mine. I would kiss you if I could. I would put my mouth on your breasts and suck them until you cried out for me to make love to you.”

His eyes, blue and intense, never left hers.

And if he could do all that, then he would be free to leave Ravenwell. To leave her.

Sam should have let Lilly go back with Charlotte and Fletcher, while he lingered behind, but he was loath to leave her company. She had an unprecedented effect on him, and the strange dreams and phantom touches were only part of it.