What Would Jane Austen Do? (20 page)

and knelt in front of the princess. "Your kiss alone can break this terrible curse."

   She turned to the witch. "Must I kiss him? He is so ugly."

   "A kiss that is not freely given is worthless," Eleanor said in a high trembling voice.

   "Then I choose not to kiss you," the princess said to the frog.

   "Begone," the witch said. "You have your answer."

   "I will fight for your love," the frog said to the princess.

   "You will take the Five Tests of Worthiness?" the witch asked slyly.

   The princess gasped. "Don't do it. If you fail, you will forfeit your life."

   "If it is the only way to end this curse, then I will do it," he said.

   "Very well. The first test is one of wits," the witch said. "Bring on the wise man."

   Parker, wearing a monk's cowled sackcloth robe and carrying a book at least six inches thick, entered stage right.

   "Ready?" the witch asked. "What has four legs in the morning, two legs at noon, three legs in the evening, and is weakest when it has the most legs?"

   Both men acted as if they pondered a weighty matter. Eleanor rolled her eyes, but fortunately, no one could see beneath her mask. It had to be the oldest riddle on earth, literally, since Sophocles had posed it in
Oedipus Rex.
She was surprised everyone in the audience didn't shout the answer before Teddy had a chance to respond.

"A man," the Frog Prince answered triumphantly.

   "I am rightly and justly defeated," the wise man said with slumped shoulders. He left, dragging his feet.

   The frog knelt before the princess.

   She leaned away from him. "That was only the first test. I still choose not to kiss you."

   "The second test is harder," the witch said. "A test of your fighting ability."

   The pirate entered with long strides. "I have come to claim the princess as my prize."

   The frog stood protectively in front of the princess with his arms spread. "The princess is no man's booty."

   The pirate drew his sword. The frog drew his. They sparred back and forth across the stage. Shermont had the bigger sword and longer reach, and for a moment Eleanor thought the fight was in earnest. She scooted her stool back to the edge of the stage, and Beatrix jumped out of her seat and cowered against the curtain.

   The script predetermined the winner, and so the pirate finally had to drop his guard. The frog smashed the sword out of his opponent's hand and stabbed him in the heart. Even though the tip of his sword was blunted, the effect was quite realistic due to a chicken's bladder filled with blood fastened under Shermont's shirt. The pirate fell to the floor, dying with dramatic flair as he crawled toward his sword and ended by rolling off the rear of the stage.

   The audience spontaneously applauded, and as Teddy took a bow, Eleanor could not help being concerned for Shermont. Was he really hurt? She leaned back to look over the rear of the stage. Suddenly the stool slipped from beneath her. With a yelp of surprise, she tumbled backwards, feet over head.

   Shermont had been squatting behind the stage, wondering how to make a dignified exit without being seen, when the witch did a backward somersault off the stage. He lunged forward, got his right arm and shoulder under her, wrapped his left arm around her legs, and stood.

   The audience broke out in applause and cheers.

   "Put me down."

   "Not just yet." He shifted her so he could hold her with one hand, turned to face the audience, and said in a loud voice, "I do believe I have the real princess." With his free hand he picked up his sword and jammed it into the wooden stage. "Let that be a warning to any who would follow." He exited around the back carrying her over his shoulder.

   Eleanor braced her hands on his waist and pushed herself up with her arms. The other players stood stock still with their mouths hanging open. Deirdre at least had the presence of mind to smooth over the incident.

   "And the witch enchanted the pirate into believing she was the princess, and he carried her away."

   "Carried her away," the chorus echoed.

   Shermont did not stop at the edge of the stage, but strode the length of the ballroom.

   "Off to his ship," Deirdre said.

   "To his ship."

   Shermont turned at the door. "The play must go on," he said.

   "Must go on," the chorus said.

   Eleanor didn't know what happened to the play after that because Shermont carried her out of the ballroom and into the hallway.

   "Put me down," she said again, her voice strained due to the fact that his rock hard shoulder pressed into her stomach.

   He hitched her up a bit higher.

   "Ho, there. What's this?" someone asked. Eleanor recognized Patience's voice, though her words were quite slurred.

   "I'm taking her to the library," he said. "To recover from her faint."

   "Faint, my—" Eleanor stopped speaking when he placed a hand on her derriere. "Hey!"

   "She might have hit her head and could be delirious," he said.

   "Then by all means, carry on." Patience giggled. "See, I can be witty, too. Carry on."

   Shermont started walking, and Eleanor looked up to see the older woman taking a long swig from a flask. Obviously not her first. Some chaperone.

   Suddenly it occurred to her that Shermont believed her to be Mina, who had originally been cast as the witch. Was this the seduction that had resulted in the duel? Despite her tingle of excitement, or maybe because of it, she didn't reveal her identity as he carried her into the library. He closed the door and set her on her feet.

   "I have thought of this all day," he said, cupping her face and lowering his lips to hers.

   The feel of his kiss through the silk of her mask was an interesting sensation and just as magical as it was in the meadow. She leaned into the kiss, but as much as she enjoyed it, something was wrong. And it wasn't the silk that separated their lips. She couldn't get past the fact that he thought she was someone else. As much as her body screamed for more… more, she forced herself to push away from him.

   She spied the blood on his shirt and looked down to see a blotch had transferred to her costume. Suddenly she realized it might have seeped through to her beautiful dress. The seams of her tunic, merely basted together, had already been torn apart in spots by the rough handling, so she ripped it the rest of the way off. And breathed a sigh of relief.

   Shermont watched her with a raised eyebrow. "Don't stop on my account," he said in an amused tone.

   "We should get back to the others now."

   "I don't understand. First you kiss me—"

   "You kissed me."

   "Merely semantics, but I'll rephrase that. You kissed me back with true fervor, and then seconds later you want to walk away. You run blazing hot and then freezing cold like—"

   "Me? You're the one who ignores me one minute and then tries to seduce me the next."

   "Oh, come on, Eleanor. You can't—"

   "What did you just call me?"

   "Eleanor. Your name. What is your—"

   "How do you know it's me? I mean, Mina was supposed to play the witch, so why don't you think I'm her?"

   "Did you not think I would recognize you? The tilt of this stubborn chin…" He touched her bottom lip and drew his finger down to her neck. "The curve of your cheek that my palms itch to caress." He took her face in his hands. "And even if I had not recognized your scent and the feel of you when I carried you in my arms—"

   "Over your shoulder like a sack of potatoes," she corrected, her dignity still bruised.

   He ignored her sarcasm. "One kiss and I would know your lips, the taste of you." He kissed her long and gently before breaking away. He pulled on the ribbon ties of her hat, and the bow under her chin disappeared as fast as her resistance to his charms. "Please take off that mask."

   She stepped back, removed her hat, and worked on the knots of the mask.

   "I can't believe you'd think I didn't know who I kissed." He shook his head, then stopped and looked at her with a quizzical expression. "As a matter of fact, I cannot fathom why you'd even consider my seducing Mina as a possibility. She's little more than a child." By the end of the last sentence, his eyes narrowed and a muscle in his jaw clenched. "What sort of man do you think I am?"

   Eleanor could hardly explain that she knew it had happened. Now she thought it wasn't Mina after all and had been Deirdre, the older of the two sisters, he had seduced. "Based on the evidence—"

   "Your so-called evidence was circumstantial at best. I should think you would have believed better of me despite the situation." Even as he said the words, he realized he'd made judgments concerning Eleanor, believed she might be one of Napoleon's agents based on evidence that was shaky at best. He ran his hand through his hair. "My apologies. I've never felt… whatever this is between us." He turned away, unable to think clearly while looking into her eyes.

   Eleanor couldn't define what was happening between them, but she knew it had no future. Long distance love affairs were an uphill struggle at best with a gaping chasm at the summit. When the gap to cross was two centuries wide, any relationship was impos sible. She'd never thought of herself as a one-night stand, but if she didn't grab this chance to be with him, she might never have another. At least she would take the memory of him back with her.

   She stepped around his body to face him. "I've never felt this way before either. I burn for your touch." She put her hands on his chest. "Does my boldness shock you?"

   He sucked in a breath, and the muscles beneath her palms tensed. "Your audacity enthralls me. But I cannot promise you—"

   "I'm not asking for promises. No strings, no regrets." At least none he would ever know about.

   He whispered her name and wrapped his arms around her with a groan. Then he set her away from him and rested his hands on her shoulders. "If we aren't back for the curtain call in fifteen minutes, your reputation will be ruined."

   "Not yours?"

   He shrugged. "It is the way of the world."

   "I don't care about my reputation."

   "Ah, so you say now, but if you're judged guilty of immoral behavior, the other guests would shun you. You might even be forced to leave the house. Is that what you want?"

   "Oh." That would mean she wouldn't have another chance to speak to Jane Austen. Hmm… hot sex or the real, live Jane Austen? Hell of a choice. Eleanor backed away to put space between herself and Shermont so she could think clearly. If she had to leave the house, how would the ghosts find her to take her back to her own time? Damn.

   "I want more than a few stolen moments with you."

   What did he mean by that? His words sounded suspiciously like a brush-off. She sat properly on the edge of the seat, her back yardstick-straight, ankles and knees together, hands folded in her lap. "Why did you bring me here?"

   "I don't know."

   He ran his hand through his hair as he sat next to her, close enough for her to feel his body heat but not touching. He knitted his fingers together as if to keep from reaching for her and rested his forearms on his knees.

   "I am not habitually inclined to spontaneous, ill-considered conduct, however…"

   She recognized his attempt to distance himself from her. "Oh, for Pete's sake, speak plain English."

   "It was a spur of the moment decision."

   At least he was honest. They sat in silence. She couldn't fault him. He'd only caught her when she fell. She placed her hand over his.

   "I forgot to properly thank you for saving me yet again." She used her free hand to turn his head, so she could place a kiss on his lips.

   He looked surprised.

   "Did I shock you?" she asked.

   "Your boldness enchants me beyond measure." He embraced her and kissed her long and hard, tasting her, teasing her tongue with his.

   She wrapped her arms around his neck. He lifted her onto his lap and ran his hand up her leg.

   Eleanor smiled against his lips. Regency women didn't have an article of clothing similar to modern panties, and he would find no impediment. She concentrated so hard on willing his hand higher… higher, she nearly missed the sound of a scratch at the door and the latch opening. Shermont didn't.

   Suddenly, he stood with a twisting motion that dropped her flat on her back on the sofa.

   "Yes, Tuttle," he said, his voice a lot calmer than she felt.

   "Pardon, milord. Mrs. Aubin said Mrs. Pottinger fainted. I've brought cold compresses, a vinaigrette, and the housekeeper. Mrs. Otto has some skill dealing—"

   "That will not be necessary," Shermont said. "You may leave the cart by the door."

   Eleanor realized he was trying to keep the servants from coming far enough into the room that they could see over the high back of the settee. And discover his obvious arousal.