Someone Irresistible (31 page)

“Yes,” she gasped, licking her lips, encircling him with her palm.

He inhaled sharply, then reached up beneath her skirt, quickly, hoping. Layers of slips and crinolines but no whalebone, thank God. He shoved the material up to her waist, his palms skimming the soft linen clinging to her calves and thighs.

She whimpered, dropping her head back, and through the faded light he noticed the throbbing of her pulse in her neck. He brought his lips forward and touched it, biting gently as she accepted the torment, as she probed him intimately, drawing him closer with each scorching caress.

As he neared his own inner explosion, he pulled away from her touch and lowered his head to the heat between her legs, his fingers fumbling with silky material until it opened, until she opened for him.

Mimi lay flat on the table, breathing hard and fast, moving her hips up to meet him.

He smelled her, craved her, and without warning, placed his tongue on her. She gasped, jerking once, but he pressed her down with his hands on her hips. He flicked his tongue, tasting the sweetness of woman, giving in to her desire. She ran her fingers through his hair, pushing herself closer to him, to that exquisite edge of surrender.

“Make me—” She sucked in a breath. “Please—”

Nathan couldn’t take the wait.

Pulling back, he stood, staring at her beautiful face bathed in passion, its softness in bold contrast to the rough wooden table beneath her and the sharp, brittle fossils surrounding them, his intense anger mixing with a rare and wondrous desire for her alone. And then he pushed himself inside of her, slowly, filling her, feeling her inner walls

close around him as he encased himself ever deeper, as she loved him with caressing gentleness.

He pulled her hips tightly against his and closed his eyes, pausing only for seconds. And then he placed his fingers where she needed his touch and began to stroke her as he moved within her in a finely tuned rhythm.

He ground his teeth together, squeezing his lids shut, moving faster, harder, perfectly. She panted, lifting her body with need, urging him closer. And then, as he sensed her rising to her peak, he placed his free hand on her mouth to cover her moans of pleasure should she scream.

She was so close, so quickly…

She climaxed suddenly, with him inside her, shoving her body up from the table, her hips to his hand, clutching his thighs with her nails, biting down hard on the meat of his palm, sobbing her release that surged from deep in her throat to slice through his soul.

The ravishing pain, the stroking muscles, the feeling of being inside of her as she came for him—

“Oh, God,” he whispered to the cold night air. “Oh, God, Mimi—”

And with one final, penetrating thrust, he lost himself deeply within, the heat of the moment and the fulfilling pleasure of release casting shadows of doubt and radiance over a new memory—another heartache—to last a lifetime.

Groaning, he slumped forward, over her, burying his face in her hot neck, feeling the quick pulse against his cheek, her labored breathing.

She gasped for air, shaking beneath him, clinging to him with her arms wrapped around his shoulders.

He didn’t want it to end; he wanted instead to wrap her in his embrace forever.

“You told me you loved me,” he whispered feverishly, feeling the ache in his chest as the words poured from his mouth onto her hot skin.

She whimpered. “I do.”

He squeezed her tightly against him. “Then tell me who betrayed me, Mimi. If you love me,
tell
me.”

A low sob tore from her throat. “I can’t. Oh, God, I want to, but I
can’t
.”

For seconds he did nothing. Disbelief and shock sliced into him as he realized that even joined intimately, even knowing he’d left a part of himself within her this night in the greatest of all risks, she still would not confess the truth to him. Nothing in Nathan’s experience had ever cut so deeply and hurt so much.

When she added nothing more, when their breathing had slowed, and the passion had subsided to a dull ache of lost hope, Nathan slid from the warmness of her and stood stiffly at the table in the cold night air.

He stared down to her flushed face and pain-filled eyes, adjusting his clothing in a matter of seconds, refusing to look away from her.

Fury tore him apart at the core, as he finally understood that her love for him, whatever it meant to her, held restrictions. Restrictions he could not accept.

He attempted to step away, but she took fast action of her own, sitting up and grabbing his shirt, wrapping her arms around his neck, holding him firmly, weaving her fingers through his hair as she lifted her forehead to touch his.

He didn’t move his rigid stance.

“Please don’t leave me, Nathan,” she begged through a ragged breath, tears of a dying dream now streaming down her cheeks. “Not like this. Not now.”

He swallowed harshly to fight his turbulent emotions, bracing his palms on her hips, his breathing shaky, eyes squeezed shut. “I can’t accept love with conditions, Mimi,” he said huskily. “It has little value.

Always, will feelings for your father, and your husband, mean more to you than me.”

“No…”

He pushed away from her forcefully then, not daring to look at her pleading face that would forever remain in his memory, his heart clinging to her warmth, her scent, her inner loveliness.

And then he turned from the partial gift she offered, and walked stiffly from her studio for a final time, her muffled sobs echoing in his mind long after he’d gone.

« ^ »

T
he drizzle of the morning had turned to a roaring rain. Still Mimi

insisted on visiting the site. It had taken a full two days to get here, and she didn’t want to waste the time already spent on the journey. Besides, she rationalized, it was springtime. It always rained in the spring.

The dig was a mass of organized confusion, as usual, she supposed.

Of course she’d been to a quarry before with her father, but today was different. This time, traveling alone, as an adult lady of quality, she would stand out like a big black beetle on a white marble floor, and knowing that created a sort of calm apprehension within her—which only added to her severe uneasiness at seeing Nathan again.

It had been nearly twelve weeks since their emotional encounter in her studio, and still, whenever she thought about that cold, dark night, she shivered from the memory of desires he’d awakened in her, and the sense of being alone even as he’d made love to her completely and with total surrender. That was the central reason behind her unannounced visit to his place of work today—that, and the fact that she just missed him so much, much more than she’d ever thought possible.

The coach came to a stop at last, its wheels sinking into the muddy terrain. Mimi gazed out the small window, her stomach wound tightly as she gripped her gloved fingers together on her lap. As of yet, she hadn’t been noticed by the men at the site, though one or two had glanced up to the coach with curious frowns. She supposed most laborers arrived on horseback or foot for this kind of work, though that was something she’d never really thought about before now.

At last her driver clicked the latch on the door and opened it. A rush of cool, wet wind struck her bare face, but her hooded black pelisse otherwise kept her from feeling the brunt of the steady downpour as she quickly descended the steps.

“Anything else, ma’am?”

“No; wait here, please. I won’t be long.”

The driver nodded once. “As you wish.”

They’d parked close to the center of the quarry’s edge, near the base of the operation. Most of the men employed to dig now stood under two large, square tarpaulins supported by steel bars, which kept the rain off them as they waited for it to subside a little to return to their work.

Some mingled, speaking in low tones, some sipped from tin cups, others stood silently as they eyed her curiously with a frankness they didn’t try to hide. It all but annoyed her. She was a lady here on business, not some prim and proper miss out for a rainy stroll at a scientific excavation, regardless of how out of place she appeared right now.

She had yet to see Nathan, but as she took a moment to become acquainted with her surroundings, she heard the unmistakable droning

of his deep, powerful voice.

Her pulse began to race; her mouth went dry. But it was too late to turn back now.

Gathering strength within, Mimi clutched her reticule against her chest with warm gloved hands, and braving the steady rain, began to walk to the second of the two tentlike structures, toward the sound of commanding instructions coming from the man she knew so well.

He stood in the center, with men in dirty overcoats positioned about him—some sitting on logs, some on the damp ground, most standing, listening to him with varying degrees of concentration.

But it was Nathan himself who engaged her attention immediately.

He wore an old cream-colored linen shirt, unbuttoned to expose a smattering of dark hair, and it clung to his broad, firmly muscled chest from exposure to the wet air. Old and faded brown trousers hugged his thighs, and his hair, silky and rain-soaked, hung over his forehead as he focused on a large, oblong sheet of paper—a map of the dig, probably—

laid out on the top of a wooden water barrel that he used as a temporary table in front of him.

Unnoticed by the men milling around him, Mimi remained quiet in the distance, her hood pulled over her head to keep the rain off, listening to him give directions and orders to those under his supervision. He looked good enough to devour, and stately enough, even as he now stood informally in front of common men, to be in charge of the grandest group of scholars at the most respected of learning institutions in the country. She knew many gentlemen, born into the best families and raised to be intellectuals, who wouldn’t be caught dead taking charge of a group of dirty men hovering cold above a muddy hole in the ground. Not one person she knew, she thought proudly, could hold a candle to Nathan Price.

“I don’t care what the devil he told you, Charlie, you can’t just pull it from the ground without care. If the claw was found at a right angle”—

he twisted the sheet of paper to his left, studying it intently— “then the thigh bone is… here. No doubt at all.” He pointed to the drawing, then looked up to the man in front of him, his features taut and pulled down in annoyance. “Be careful, and slow, even in this godforsaken weather. I want zero damage to the finds, gentlemen. And if you have any trouble,
ask
me. I’m going to be working on the Hylaeosaur on the north end with John Longfellow, and…” he glanced around him, “and Phillip Reed.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “As you know, we’re on a very tight schedule, so there’s no excuse for idleness. Pick up where you left off yesterday—”

“What about the bloody rain, Professor,” someone grunted in poor

English. “Nobody said nuffin’ ‘bout diggin’ in mud.”

Nathan’s expression hardened as he stared the man down. “Ignore it, work hard, or I’ll replace you, in which case you won’t have any work at all,” he replied flatly.

Low murmurs of irritation—or acceptance—ensued as Nathan stood tall and peered over the drenched and shivering crowd. “Any
other
reasonable quest—”

That’s when he saw her, and Mimi’s heart nearly stopped.

His mouth dropped open just slightly in surprise, and then he abruptly shut it.

Mimi drew in a slow, deep breath to stay her rapidly dwindling composure as the other men followed his gaze and turned to look at her.

But she stood her ground, shoulders erect, her bearing confident at least in appearance, especially in front of strange men of questionable education who studied her with varying degrees of fascination.

Keeping her eyes on Nathan, she was suddenly unsure whether to smile at him vaguely or to appear matter-of-fact about her being at his excavation site. She decided simply to stand there, waiting for him to make the first move.

After a moment’s hesitation, he recovered himself and ordered his men to work. In a flurry of movement and grumbles, the group reluctantly left the tarpaulin, leaving him standing there more or less alone. One man asked a question she couldn’t hear, and Nathan answered it still gazing at her. The worker glanced briefly in her direction again, then wandered off.

She began to walk toward the shelter, glad for it, as her outer garments were becoming saturated. He hadn’t moved, but he hadn’t looked away, either.

She approached him cautiously, but determined, unconcerned about the mud clinging to the bottom of her skirts. “Professor Price,” she said affably over the sound of pattering rain.

“Why, Mrs. Sinclair,” he drawled. “How lovely to see you here.”

He was being sarcastic, of course, and even through the awkwardness between them now, she found his tone comforting.

“Thank you,” she responded politely.

He offered nothing more by way of pleasantries, though he did manage to cross his arms over his damp chest and lean his hip against the water barrel.

She rubbed her hands together, and took a quick peek at their surroundings to be certain their conversation would remain relatively

private.

“Have you come with news, Mrs. Sinclair?”

She jerked her eyes back to lock with his, now narrowed and swimming with irritation. It flustered her.

“Stop calling me that.”

He smiled wryly. “Of course. I forgot you don’t care for the title.”

That did it. She took a step toward him so that her rain-soaked skirt rubbed against his dirty pant legs, her lips thinned grimly, eyes flashing annoyance. “I did come with news.”

A brow lifted in question, but he otherwise didn’t budge. Or comment. That made her rather angry.

Leaning toward him, as closely as possible, she whispered, “I’m not carrying your child, Nathan. I thought you’d be relieved to know that.”

That piece of delicate information clearly startled him, filling her with enormous satisfaction. His eyes opened wide and his expression went slack as the meaning of her words sank in. She drew back a little, smiling politely again, reaching up to pull her hood from her head.