Sapphire Dream (33 page)

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Authors: Pamela Montgomerie

BOOK: Sapphire Dream
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She tried to ignore her companion as she ate. His presence was too overwhelming. Her need for him too much. All she wanted to do was stay in his arms. But she had to keep some distance between them. For a lot of reasons, not the least of which was her own survival. She wasn’t sure she could live through yet another heartbreak.
Everyone she’d ever loved had left her or sent her away. Her father, her aunt Janie, her first and best foster family, the Changs. None of them had done it on purpose, but the result had been the same. Crushing grief. Debilitating loss.
She refused to go through that again when Rourke left to go back to sea. But the more time she spent with him, the more she needed him. And the harder it was going to be to avoid heartbreak.
When she’d eaten all she could, she pushed her plate to Rourke.
“Ye canna eat more?”
“No. It’s all yours.” Her gaze moved to the tiny bed in the corner. One bed, considerably smaller that a twin-size bed at home. “Where are you going to sleep?”
“On the floor.”
“In here?”
“Aye. I’ll not leave you alone.”
Great.
Though she was glad to have him watching over her in case the earl’s men found them, sleeping in the same room with the man was not a good idea. She had to keep her distance. Worse, she had to make him keep his.
He finally finished eating and rose to lay the plates out in the hallway.
“Will ye be sleeping now, lass?”
Brenna sighed, meeting his pale gaze. “I’m not sure I can, Rourke. I’m too wound up. Why don’t you take the bed, and I’ll sleep here if I get tired enough.”
He didn’t answer. Instead, he went to stand behind her to grip her shoulders, his magical fingers pressing and rubbing all the tight spots between her shoulder blades and along the sides of her neck.
“If I’d known you gave massages, I’d have asked for one days ago.”
“Ye like it, eh?” His voice held a smile.
“If feels heavenly.”
She felt him move and knew he’d knelt on the floor behind her low stool. But his thumbs never stopped their careful strokes, easing the tension in her shoulders.
His fingers trailed along the side of her neck, pulling her hair aside. And suddenly she felt his lips on that sensitive flesh, following the same path his thumbs had worked moments before, sending tendrils of pleasure floating along the surface of her skin.
A moan escaped her throat before she could stop it. Oh, this wasn’t a good idea. How was she ever going to build up defenses against the man if she let him touch her like this? Touch her until she was melting in his arms.
“Rourke. We can’t do this.”
But his tongue replaced his lips and sent fire shimmering through her blood. His hands went around her, his palms sliding up her rib cage to cup her breasts. Her head lolled to the side, then fell back against his shoulder as she released a low moan.
She was losing control faster than she could call it back, and couldn’t remember why she cared. Rourke’s hands were gentle as those clever fingers turned their magic to her breasts, kneading and caressing through the fabric of her gown.
He nipped at her earlobe. “I want ye, Wildcat.” His voice was low and strained as he whispered against her sensitive flesh. “Let me ease your body in other ways.”
Bad idea. Bad idea.
The words kept going through her head even as she turned and wrapped her arms around his neck, demanding his kiss. Passion flared.
Her senses swam in his taste, his scent, the feel of his hands roaming her body with barely controlled urgency. As one they rose, pulling off clothing with shaking hands until they stood facing one another, the firelight flickering over their naked skin.
She stared at Rourke, at the play of light over the ridges of muscle.
He covered her bare breasts lightly, reverently. “So bonnie. Yer the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, Wildcat.” As one hand stayed on her breast, the other tracked lower, dipping between her legs. A single finger delved into her wet heat.
Brenna groaned, melting from that erotic touch. She wanted more. Her fingers closed around his erection, eliciting a hard groan from his throat.
“I need you, Pirate.”
He kissed her hard, then swept her into his arms and strode the few feet to the bed. But instead of laying her on the mattress, he set her on the floor, lay down on his back, and tugged her onto him.
Without hesitation, she straddled his hips and took him deep inside, riding him until they both lay sated and spent.
Rourke’s hand stroked her back. The flesh where she lay on top of him was damp with sweat. But there was no room on the bed on either side for her to roll off of him. There would be no sharing this bed even if they wanted to, unless they stayed where they were, one on top of the other.
Finally, she got up and pulled on her shift to act as a nightgown. Rourke spread a blanket on the floor and lay down, naked as she settled on the bed.
“Sleep, Wildcat. Sleep well.”
“You too, Pirate.”
But as she curled up on the bed alone, she knew her dreams would be haunted by the emptiness stretching in front of her.
 
 
The next morning, Brenna was strung so tight she was afraid she was going to snap. With every mile, as they drew nearer to Deveron House and the family she’d lost, her tension tightened another turn. If only she could figure out a way to get Rourke to give her another of those body-melting massages as she rode.
She glanced at him and he met her gaze, his head dipping in a silent nod as if he sensed how nervous she was and reminded her she could do this. And he’d be right beside her when she did.
That simple nod, and the warmth in his eyes, calmed her, settling her nerves.
Why?
Why did she need him so much? She feared he was a weakness she couldn’t afford.
The miles passed at once slowly and all too quickly.
“We are nearly upon it,” Angus announced a few hours later.
Brenna’s heart cramped with apprehension. They were almost there.
Home.
Her father. Her family.
What would they think of her? They weren’t likely to be pleased. Her manners were good for the society in which she’d been raised, but she remembered Aunt Janie harping at her constantly as a young girl about things that none of her friends were required to do or say. Things she was now certain she should have learned. If only she could remember what they were.
As they turned off the main road onto a treelined drive, a strange excitement leaped within her.
I know this place.
The memories weren’t clear, only the knowledge that she’d been there before.
Through the trees Brenna caught a glimpse of a house. A
mansion
. Her stomach knotted. She wanted to tell them to stop. Not yet. She wasn’t ready.
What would they say? If only she could snatch up her cell phone and call first. Warn them she was coming.
As they approached a turn, she knew suddenly it would be the last before the house came into view. Brenna held her breath, waiting for the first sight of home since she’d left so suddenly when she was five.
She barely noticed as the men in front of her pulled up as they rounded the corner, so anxious was she to see her home. She pushed between them only to freeze as her gaze caught sight of what had stopped them. Ice congealed in her veins. Her head began to pound as emotions tore through her. Horror. Anger. Fury at the fates for letting her come so close before snatching it all away.
Before her stood not the home of her childhood that she’d dreamed of and longed for all her life, but a singed, eyeless stone shell.
Deveron House had burned.
SIXTEEN
 
“It happened recently,” Angus said. “The smell of smoke is still strong.”
Brenna’s head pounded. Her chest felt as if it would explode. She wanted to scream.
It’s not fair.
She’d waited so long. So long.
What if her father had died?
She urged her mare forward, pushing between the two riders in front of her.
“Wildcat,” Rourke called, but she was driven by a need and a fear that overshadowed everything else.
She’d barely gone ten yards when her horse balked. Clearly, her mount did not share her desire to race toward the scene of this latest disaster.
Rourke pulled up beside her. “She fears the smell of smoke.”
Anguish tore through Brenna as she dismounted. “I have to know if he died.” She started up the dirt road on foot, half running, half walking, heart thundering in her ears.
“Wildcat, wait!” His footsteps pounded behind her.
The memory of Rourke’s tying her in the cave made her hackles rise and she swung toward him, feet braced, ready for a fight.
“Don’t you dare try to stop me. This is
my
home. I have every right to find out what happened.”
He met her gaze, his jaw clenched. Finally, he nodded. “I’ll tend ye.”
She turned and continued toward the burned-out structure, her gaze taking in the charred grasses surrounding the mansion. Two trees that had stood nearby had been reduced to burnt timbers. It must have been a heck of a blaze.
Please let him have gotten out.
Deveron House was a huge, gray stone building, large and symmetrical with dozens of hollow windows laid out in neat, black-tinged rows. Chimneys popped out of the crumbling roof at regular intervals, while the front door hung askew, charred and broken.
As they reached the stone stairs leading to the door, Rourke grabbed her arm.
Brenna jerked him loose. “Don’t try to stop me.”
“Think with yer head, Wildcat, not your anger. The floors will be unstable and the last of the roof looks ready to drop at the slightest provocation. Go around instead. There may be another way to see inside without endangering yourself.”
Reason hadn’t completely deserted her. He was right, dammit.
She brushed past him as she ran down the steps, then with angry strides crossed the charred grass to the back of the mansion. Behind the house, a low wall encircled an intricate garden, amazingly untouched by the fire. To one side of the garden a building stood, equally untouched, that looked to be stables. To the other side, a low-roofed wing jutted out from the back of the house that didn’t appear to be as badly burned.
Rourke was eyeing the wing. “Wait here, Wildcat. I wish to see what’s there. If ’tis safe, we can go in together, aye?”
She just stared at him as he strode away. He didn’t even hear himself.
Stay here. Wait here. Be a good little girl.
All she wanted to do was lop off someone’s head, preferably whoever set this fire. If it
had
been set. She supposed the house could have burned by accident. But it seemed somehow fitting that the black cloud of disaster that was following her around had gotten ahead of her this time.
She watched Rourke a moment longer, then turned and headed for the gray stone building she’d decided was a stable. As she rounded the corner, she saw one of the doors was ajar. Good. She wouldn’t have any trouble getting inside.
“Wildcat!”
Brenna growled under her breath. Her keeper had discovered she hadn’t waited where he’d told her to. Well, he could just go to hell. She slipped inside the stable doors, the light dim, her eyes all but blind until they adjusted.
She heard a sound barely a second before a large, strong hand grabbed her arm. “Who are ye?” a harsh voice demanded.
Behind her, the door swung wide and the unmistakable sound of a sword being drawn filled the quiet stables. Rourke, coming to her rescue, no doubt.
I don’t need rescuing, dammit!
All the frustration, all the anger boiling inside her found a target, and she spun and slammed her knee into her assailant’s groin with bone-jarring accuracy.
The man, who looked rather young now that her eyes were adjusting, let out a strangled yell as he released her and doubled over.

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