Wild Heart (12 page)

He didn’t respond, but she felt his surprise. Just as quickly as the surprise had entered, he swept it aside, clearing his mind of emotion. Did he not wish to feel? Moments later, she heard the scratch of a paintbrush on canvas, and the sound lulled her into a sense of security. A butterfly, fragile and yellow, floated to a daisy. She focused on the insect and the warmth from the sun in an attempt to forget her nudity and cease the trembling of her body.

“To be a butterfly and float on the wind,” she murmured. She hadn’t realized she said the words aloud until Leo laughed.

“To be snatched from the air and crunched in the beak of a bird,” he added.

She dared a glance over her shoulder. “Can you not see beauty in anything? Must you mock all?”

His face grew serious, and he focused on his canvas. “I see beauty. I couldn’t paint if I didn’t.”

She turned back around and wondered over his statement. She knew few men who saw beauty in life. Most men she’d dealt with in the village near Lady Buckley’s had been rough and crude. Was Leo truly different? She laid her head down on her arm and gazed through the flowers, the ocean breeze caressing her bare skin. How many times had she wished to lie in a field and do nothing all day? Of course, she’d always been dressed in her daydream.

“What happened?” Leo demanded.

Ella felt his anger and looked at him over her shoulder. He stalked toward her, and she crossed her arms over her chest, her face immediately flushing. But he was looking lower, at her legs, she realized. She glanced down the length of her thighs to her lower legs and realized what held him fascinated. Her blush deepened and she looked away.

“A fire,” she said. “In the first orphanage I lived in. It was a miracle I survived, or so they say. I barely remember. The wounds weren’t bad; I was fortunate. Three girls perished.”

She could feel him directly behind her. He’d knelt down close…so close his heat caressed her skin. His scent, pine and ocean air, invaded her senses, and heat pooled in the pit of her belly. His hands rested on the back of her calves, and she almost moaned aloud. Slowly, he trailed his fingers up and down her skin over the faded scars. She swallowed hard and shivered.

“Are you cold?” he asked softly.

She shook her head, not daring to look at him.

“Did it hurt?”

“Yes, for days and days afterward I cried.” Was that her voice that sounded so breathless?

He rose to his feet. “I can imagine it must have been painful.”

Without another word, he moved back to his easel. He’d touched her, and with that touch she’d felt his worry, his anger, but also his need, hard and pulsing. He wanted her, and that brought a thrill of excitement rushing through her body, heating her core with a fire she couldn’t seem to extinguish. With that knowledge and the sun warming her skin, the flowers in bloom around her naked body, she felt strangely attractive. She’d felt this need before, in animals, mostly during spring. But never to such depths, such extremes, and never directed toward her.

She rested her head on her arm and let her lashes drift down. Around her, the soft buzz of bees lulled her into a dreamlike state, and she could almost forget that Leo stared at her naked backside. Although she wouldn’t dare admit it to anyone, there was nowhere she’d rather be than here…now. She felt strangely at peace. Slowly, her mind went numb and she knew she was falling…falling asleep, but she didn’t care and accepted the clouded feeling that came.

“Ella.” Leo’s voice was a husky whisper. Warmth tickled the side of her face. She swatted at the area, her mind being pulled back to consciousness. Something was wrong, different. Where did that cool breeze come from?

Reality rushed in on waves of heated embarrassment. She gasped, her eyes opening. Dear Lord, she’d fallen asleep, naked no less.

Ella bolted upright. Leo was kneeling beside her, his gaze focused on hers, so close she could see the gold flecks in his eyes. She gasped again and drew her knees to her chest, her arms crossing over her naked body.

A soft smile played upon his lips. “You fell asleep.”

She nodded dumbly. She should dress, but her mind felt muddled and confused, her body languid as if the two weren’t connected. “Did you…did you finish?”

“Not finished, but I got quite a bit done.” He didn’t move, didn’t drop his gaze, but continued to stare into her eyes. Heat poured through her body, pooling in the pit of her belly and producing a deep ache that made her want to shift under his intense scrutiny. He wanted her with a need that made her want to lean forward and press her lips to his.

She swallowed hard. “Promise you’ll show it to no one?”

His smile was slow and sure. “It’s only your backside. I doubt anyone would recognize you.”

Her backside. Heat moved to her face, and she looked away. “Still.”

“Fine then, it will be for my perverse visual pleasure only.” Slowly, he reached out and brushed her hair back behind her shoulder, his fingers skimming her neck. Heat shot through her, tingling her skin. She knew he held back. His desire, his need, pulsed under the surface, waiting…waiting to be freed. Even if she hadn’t noticed the way his hands trembled, she felt the need pulsing on the surface. She closed her eyes and bit her lower lip to keep from crying out.

“Ella,” he said softly. “Open your eyes.”

Her lashes fluttered up. His amber gaze had gone hard, shining no longer with mirth, but with something more intense. She knew what would happen, and God save her, she wanted it…she wanted him. His gaze dropped to her lips, and her breath caught. When he reached out, cupping the side of her face, she didn’t pull away.

Softly, his thumb brushed her lower lip. “Do not be afraid.”

She nodded. He leaned forward. Her hands dropped to her sides and her legs fell to the ground. His chest pressed to hers, and his linen shirt caressed her hardened nipples. When his lips met hers, all unease fled. Slowly, he nibbled, his mouth warm and soft. Her muscles relaxed and his body pushed her back…further…further until she lay upon the ground. He hovered over her for a brief moment and then lowered his body, pressing into her, hard and heavy. She whimpered, partly in fear of the unknown and partly in heady delight. She wanted him to continue, to never cease. Dear God, she wasn’t sure which emotions were his and which were hers. All she knew was that if she didn’t have him, she thought she’d die.

A hardness pressed to her lower belly, and the ache between her legs intensified. She wanted to rub against that solid heat, but was too afraid of the unknown. His lips moved against her own, slowly, driving her mad with delight, with wanting. His warm tongue slipped inside her mouth, and she welcomed the intimate kiss.

Instinct took over. Ella wrapped her arms around his neck, deepening the kiss. She suddenly found herself in a fog of pure pleasure, and she was helpless to stop the torment that assaulted her body. She was completely and utterly at his mercy. She knew in the back of her mind she should push him away, demand he stop, yet all she could focus on was easing the deep ache growing between her legs.

She knew he wanted her as much as she wanted him. The thought terrified and delighted her at the same time. His hand slipped to her hip, his rough fingers trailing up and down the sensitive skin of her leg. He wanted more; she knew it, could feel his desire, demanding. Would she give him more? God save her, she knew she would. His other hand slipped to her collarbone, lower, to caress the side of her breast. Piercing through the desire, she felt his sudden surprise. He pulled away from her, his breathing ragged.

His gaze moved lower to focus on her neck. His knuckles brushed her throat as he picked up the cool, metal pendant. “Where did you say you got this?”

Ella couldn’t draw her legs to her chest; she couldn’t cross her arms over her breasts as instinct demanded, for he was too close for her to move.

“My uncle,” she breathed, frantic to end the conversation so she could dress. “He asked me to keep it safe. Promised he’d come back for it, but he never did.”

“What was his name?”

“Finch.”

His gaze pierced hers, and she felt his anger like a slap. “Do you lie to me, Ella?”

She shook her head, confused at the sudden bite in his voice. “No, never.” His gaze delved into her eyes as if reading her thoughts for the truth. His heat suddenly felt stifling, and she had the urge to bolt. “We should return home before someone comes looking.”

But he didn’t move, merely continued to stare at her. Finally, he nodded and pushed himself to his feet. She didn’t need to worry about her state of undress, for he immediately turned his back to her. Ella snatched her shift from the ground and threw it over her head. As she dressed, she watched him move to his easel and pack his supplies.

He didn’t look at her. What had happened to make him so cold once more? Had she done something wrong? How she wished she could read minds and not just sense feelings. He packed his paints, and still he said not a word. Her legs trembled as she moved toward him and held out his jacket. The mix of their emotions had left her exhausted.

“May I see?” she asked.

He took the garment and nodded. Ella stepped around him and focused on the canvas. Her gasp lingered across the field. The painting was intricate; it was beautiful. She looked long and lean, laid out amongst the flowers like some fairy without wings. Her hair glistened in the light…red, golden, and mahogany while her skin glowed porcelain. There was a hint of her profile, a pert nose and full lips, but certainly nothing that would identify her. “But I thought…”

“What?” he asked, pulling his jacket over his broad shoulders. “You thought your portrait would be a slash of angry colors?”

Her face heated.

“I told you,” he said, picking up the canvas, “I can paint in other ways. You really should trust me.” There was something to his words that made her uneasy, as if he were testing her reaction.

She picked up his box of painting supplies, and they started toward the house. “It really is well done, Leo.”

“I know,” he replied.

Ella grinned and shook her head, relieved that he was back to his arrogant self. Taking her hand, he helped her over the fence. His fingers wrapped around hers and brought an unfamiliar sense of safety and warmth. She peeked up at him, wondering if he thought about her the way she thought about him. Then again, what did she feel for him? He was hot one minute, cold the next. But she couldn’t deny how she felt with him. Lady Buckley’s eldest daughter had told her in intimate detail what happened between a husband and wife when they kissed, but she hadn’t told her how it’d feel. So utterly, incredibly amazing.

They started down a trail, sparrows darting from the trees. “Leo,” she asked. “Is that…is that really how I look?”

“What do you mean?”

“The painting.”

His hold on her hand tightened. “Yes, Ella, that is really how you look.”

And she knew he told the truth. A bounce entered her step. She wasn’t nearly as horrible to look at as Lady Buckley had seemed to think. Perhaps she would find someone to settle down with eventually…perhaps she would even have a family. She plucked a leaf from a passing tree and twirled it by its stem. Being married wouldn’t be so wretched. Having someone to share a life with.

She glanced at Leo out of the corner of her eye. What sort of husband would he make? Kind and gentle? She almost laughed at that thought. More like intense and full of surprises. He’d most likely want to travel, take his wife to see the world. She felt a twinge of jealousy settle like a burr in her soul. Leo’s wife would be beautiful, no doubt. Blond and light, or perhaps dark and exotic.

“What are you thinking?”

“Nothing,” she said with a shrug and dropped the leaf.

He glanced at her with raised brows. “Really? I can almost hear your thoughts from here. Something far from pleasant, for your frown could kill a lesser man.”

“Nothing,” she repeated and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “I should get ready for our lessons. You’ll meet me in the library?”

“Of course. I promised, didn’t I?”

She handed him the box and took her lower lip between her teeth. So many questions rushed through her mind. Did he regret their kiss? Was it nothing to him? Would he do it again? No…no, that most definitely was not a question she would ask.

Before she opened her mouth and said something she’d regret, she spun around and raced toward the house.

Ella pulled the books off the shelf and spread them upon the table. With a sigh, she glanced at the two vacant chairs. How would she sit so close to him? How would she smell his scent? Feel his heat? How would she not think of that kiss…of being naked under his body?

Her skin heated, and she closed her eyes, attempting to calm her racing heart. But even still an hour later her body still thrummed with an unsatisfied need…a need for more, a need for something she didn’t truly understand. A need for Leo.

“My, my, what has you all flushed?”

Ella spun around to see Henry standing in the doorway.

“It’s rather warm in here, don’t you think?” She moved across the room to the windows and pushed the pane wider, allowing a soft breeze to ruffle the rose-colored curtains.

“We did not see you at church. One would think that a person who lived in an orphanage run by nuns would go to church on Sunday. Or are you actually Catholic?” he sneered.

She stiffened at his remark. How did he know about the orphanage? “No, I’m not Catholic, not that it’s any of your concern.”

“Ah, a heathen then?”

“Of course not,” she snapped “I merely forgot it was Sunday.”

He came closer, stopping only a few feet from her. “Forgot, or you were busy with other activities?”

Ella backed up, her legs hitting the window seat. “Forgot.”

“Poor you, Leo has been taking up all of your time.” His eyes narrowed. “What exactly do you teach my dear cousin?”

She tried to keep her face neutral. “Politics, social activities.”

His lips lifted. “Social activities, is that what they call it now?”

Her face burned. “I don’t know what you mean.” She crossed her arms over her chest and glanced at the open door. Where
was
Leo?