A Midsummer Night's Romp

by Katie MacAlister

  “Huh. Looks like necking to me.”

  He turned a suspicious eye on her. “And what would you know about that, mademoiselle? You just got done telling me you weren’t interested in having a boyfriend.”

  She giggled, and punched him in the arm. “I’m not, but that doesn’t mean I don’t recognize necking when I see it. Did I hurt your foot when I sat on you?”

  He adjusted once again to her quicksilver conversational offerings. “No.”

  “When will you be able to walk around again?”

  “Most likely next week.”

  “Cankles said she thought it was stupid of you to break your foot in the first place.”

  “It was stupid—I could tell the balcony was rusted, but I thought I could get a couple of shots without anything happening. I was wrong, a fact I’d like you to remember when I ask you to stay away from the part of the castle that’s out of bounds to everyone.”

  She made a face. “I already said I was sorry for climbing over the fence, and swore I wouldn’t do it again. I don’t like the non-necking guy next to Lorina. He’s”— her nose scrunched again—“smarmy. Is that a word? Cankles said that her sister’s boyfriend was smarmy, and I think it means kind of blechy, so if it does, then yeah, he’s smarmy.”

  “Smarmy is a very good word for people like that,” Gunner agreed, ignoring the fact that when he had met the man earlier, he had no such impression. “You are a good judge of people. You get that from me.”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know about that. Mom says I think with my heart instead of my head, but that’s just silly, because hearts can’t think, can they? Why don’t you have any horses here? I’m not complaining, but you have a big stable, but no horses. I just thought if you had a horse here, I could ride it instead of taking lessons, and that would save money.”

  “No one has time to take care of a horse, although we do have one elderly Shetland pony who is so old he creaks when he walks, and a three-legged donkey who keeps him company out in one of the pastures.”

  “Rats.”

  “Those we do have. In the stable, and possibly this barn, although I couldn’t swear to that.”

  Cressida considered him with eyes that were almost identical to her mother’s. “You’re funny, Gunner. Cankles is jealous because I have a dad who has a black mom and a white dad, and when I tell her that you’re funny, she’s going to go mental. I can’t wait.”

  “And you are an odd child who I think takes more after me than I’m comfortable with.” He gave her another smile. “I’ll take you into town later to get the riding helmet, all right?”

  “Awesome!” she cheered, and before he could blink, she loped off. Gunner wondered if he’d ever been that free and easy, decided he hadn’t, and turned his attention back to the people inside the barn. Thankfully, Roger had reached the end of his discussion, and now another man was standing and briefly reviewing which teams would work on what projects.

  After a moment’s concerted thought, he finally dredged up a name for the man next to Lorina.

  “Paul Thompson,” he said softly to himself, his eyes narrowing on the fellow. But even as he recognized the fact that he was unusually hostile toward someone who had done him no wrong, he admitted that it annoyed him that someone else might have his eye on Lorina for a late summer fling.

  Dammit, he saw her first. Therefore, the unwritten rules of a gentleman dictated that he should be allowed to proceed unhindered by competition. Only if Lorina chose to spurn his attentions should Thompson make a move. Perhaps he should point out the rules to the man, since it was obvious he was too obtuse (or ill-bred) to understand them on his own.

  The crowd broke after one last round of mild applause. Gunner moved his scooter to the side, passing out pleasant greetings and smiles as the television and archaeology crews streamed past him. His smile grew a little when Lorina strolled past, but he reminded himself that he had never had to chase after a woman. Women always seemed to come his way without much effort.

  “Oh,” Lorina said, stopping a few feet away, and looking hesitantly toward him.

  He smiled his very best smile.

  She pursed her lips a little. “I suppose we should probably chat.”

  “If you like, certainly.”

  “Do you have your equipment with you?”

  He gave her a roguish grin despite his best intentions. “I find it best to carry it with me at all times.”

  “Oh, good. Well, I suppose you can give me a rundown on how to use it.” She glanced at her watch. “I have so much to do today. Can we make it tomorrow morning?”

  He knew that she had to be speaking of something other than what he first thought she meant. He knew that, and yet he was unable to keep his roguish grin from turning into an outright leer. “I’d be delighted to show you how to use my equipment, although I should mention that I’m less flexible than normal due to the cast. In addition, I will warn you that despite your belief earlier that I was asking you to marry me, I’m not actually in the market for a permanent attachment. That doesn’t mean we can’t enjoy our time together—far from it. Nothing spices up a summer more than a little dalliance, don’t you think?”

  She gawked at him, outright gawked with open mouth and wide eyes. “Did you just proposition me into, for lack of a polite term, hooking up with you?”

  “I believe we could find much mutual pleasure in each other’s company, yes,” he said with a startling lack of his usual finesse.

  She shook her head. “Man, I just—no one has ever just come right out—not so blatant as that—no, Gunner, I am not interested in casual sex, with you or with anyone else.” She took a deep breath, and continued on before he could respond. “And can I just say that you really have some kind of balls coming on to someone who you just met. The fact that you think you can just stroll up and dominate me in that way . . . no sir! It’s not going to fly with me! I don’t do dalliances, as you call them. I happen to prefer a meaningful relationship with a man who values me, and doesn’t have to make himself feel better by showing he’s stronger, or more dominant, or any of those things men feel they have to prove. You really have some nerve assuming that I’d fall victim to your pretty face, and nice chest, and all the rest of you.”

  “Are you finished?” Gunner asked politely when she paused for breath.

  “Not even close!” she said with a dignified sniff. “Who do you think you are that you can hit on me like that without even so much as a by-your-leave?”

  “I apologize if my attempt to flirt offended—”

  “Flirt? Offended! Oh, you are so beyond offended!”

  “For the record, I don’t feel the need to dominate women. I much prefer them lively and engaging rather than cowed and submissive.”

  “Oh, tell me another,” she said with irately flared nostrils. “All men say that when they’re trying to get into a woman’s pants. But after the bloom is off the rose, then the domineering comes out, and the ‘How dare you question me? I’m a man!’ attitudes fly all over the place, and the next thing you know, you’re a doormat married to a monster.”

  He said nothing for a moment, waiting to see what she’d say next. When she did nothing but look vaguely appalled at her outburst, he said slowly, “That is very specific, but really isn’t applicable to me.”

  “I’m sorry,” she stammered, her cheeks pinkening. “I got off on a rant and couldn’t seem to stop. Just ignore me.”

  “Now, that I will not do, although I will be happy to forget your rant if you’d like.”

  “I’d appreciate that. It must be the jet lag wearing me down, although I’ve been in England for four days.”

  “I’m sure that must be it,” he said graciously. “Does it make you uncomfortable to be complimented?”

  “Me?” She opened her eyes wide. “No, not at all. But I don’t like being hit on.”


  “So I gathered. Would you mind if I told you that the reason I was flirting is because I like that you say things without thinking about whether or not they will be acceptable? It’s a form of honesty that I particularly enjoy.”

  She flinched at that, and he would have continued, but at that moment a shadow fell across them, and suddenly the man Thompson was there touching her on the arm and murmuring, “Lori, I need to speak to you as soon as you’re free.”

  Gunner caught the expression of annoyance flicker across Lorina’s face, but it was gone so quickly that he doubted a less astute man would have seen it.

  “Is there something wrong?” she asked.

  A strong desire to punch Thompson rose within Gunner. He reminded himself yet again that he wasn’t a jealous man. His inner self didn’t seem to care—his fingers were fisted to keep from reaching out and jerking Thompson’s hand from her arm.

  “Nothing wrong, no. I just wanted to go over a few aspects of the dig with you, in case you were confused. I know it must be overwhelming for someone new to archaeology.” Paul’s gaze slid over to Gunner, acknowledging him with a little nod of the head and a murmured, “Ainslie.”

  Gunner nodded back, gritting his teeth against the sharp words that he feared would slip out.

  She smiled, making him feel as if he’d been kicked in the gut. “That would be lovely, Paul, but I’m going to be busy taking pictures of the dig gearing up before the light goes. Roger told me when I met him in London that people like behind-the-scenes shots like that, so I promised I’d get first-day pictures.”

  “Tomorrow is soon enough,” Paul said with a dismissive wave of his hand, although just what he was dismissing, Gunner didn’t know.

  “I’m sure I’ll be able to give you a few minutes then,” Lorina agreed.

  “Not too many,” he heard himself saying.

  Both of them looked at him in surprise.

  “Oh?” Lorina’s forehead wrinkled.

  “Yes. Don’t you remember? I offered to show you around the castle.” That was a blatant lie, which Lorina clearly recognized, but thankfully, she didn’t dispute him; she simply shot him a curious look before turning back to Thompson when he murmured something about not keeping her long.

  The man gave her a smile that Gunner felt showed entirely too many teeth. (What sort of man bared his gums when he smiled? It was unsightly at best, and grotesque at worst.) Then he moved off to join Roger and the director, Sue.

  Lorina watched him go, absently rubbing her arm. Gunner was pleased by the action, and even more pleased when he heard her say under her breath, “I hate that.”

  “Hate what? Casual acquaintances who manhandle you while bare yards of glistening gums blight your vision? I couldn’t agree more. It’s annoying as hell.”

  She turned back to him with a puzzled expression. “What are you talking about?”

  “You said you hated Thompson.”

  “I didn’t realize I said that aloud. ‘Hate’ is a word I don’t often use for people, although Paul . . . he’s . . . oh, never mind. It’s too complicated to explain.”

  Before she could leave him, he caught her hand, gently rubbing his thumb over the backs of her knuckles. “I like complicated. If not Thompson, then what do you hate?”

  She gave him a weak smile and slowly pulled her hand from his. “Being called Lori. I just really dislike it when people do that. Why did you lie to him?”

  “You seemed to need rescuing, and I would have offered to show you around the castle sooner or later. We might as well make it sooner, assuming you’re interested in it.”

  To his surprise, she bristled. “What makes you think I need rescuing? I don’t need any man to rescue me. I’m a strong person on my own, and can take care of myself. Your opinion is your own, and not at all pertinent to me.”

  He was silent a moment, wondering what had brought on a second outburst. Hell, now he wondered about the first one as well. Was she just defensive as a rule, or had something he said stirred her up? Out of the blue, he was reminded of his brother Rupert, who was adopted when he was seven from a father who had regularly beat him. For a few years until he’d settled down, Rupert had been prone to the same sorts of outbursts.

  “I can see you are a strong woman,” Gunner said slowly, speaking to her just as he used to speak to Rupert when he was in one of his wild, defiant moods. “I assure you that I had no intention of implying that you need my help in getting rid of Thompson. If I’ve offended you, I apologize.”

  The antagonism in her posture melted away, leaving her with a wary look. “Sorry, I did it again, didn’t I? I didn’t mean to snap your head off. I just . . . men being domineering like that is one of my pet peeves.”

  A memory of just how fearful Rupert had been of their father for a few years gave Gunner a sudden insight into Lorina, but what surprised him was not the fact that she’d obviously been on the receiving end of some sort of abuse, but that he was instantly swamped with a need to protect her from any further such trials. He hadn’t felt that way since Rupert had grown up.

  “I promise not to dominate you unless you ask me to,” he said with a little wink in order to lighten the moment.

  She just stared at him.

  He sighed. “I was hoping you’d take that as a compliment as to how much I admire you.”

  “You don’t know me,” she pointed out, the wariness growing in her eyes.

  Dammit, he was just making things worse with her. So much for humor. “I apologize again, this time for trying to flirt.”

  “Oh.” She looked a bit contrite now, and made a little gesture of conciliation. “I’m being rude, aren’t I? Sorry about that. Although I have to ask, do you always flirt with women you’ve just met?”

  “Not always. There are occasionally some women who I can’t resist, though.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Oh, right, and I’m one? No, I wasn’t fishing for a compliment, so you needn’t tell me how much you like six-foot-tall women built like linebackers. I’m simply saying that it’s unlikely that you’d fall victim to my charms, such as they are, at first glance. Not unless you’re a serial love-’em-and-leave-’em sort of guy.”

  “Hardly that. I might not be seeking a permanent addition to my life, but that doesn’t mean I’m a devotee of one-night stands. I simply prefer women who seize the moment without worrying about what the future will hold. And as a matter of fact, I do admire six-foot-tall women of stature. I always have.”

  She was silent a moment. “I suppose your moral code isn’t really a concern of mine. To answer your comment earlier, I would like to see the inside of a real castle. But don’t think you’re going to try any of your moves on me, all right? Because I can take care of myself, and yes, that means what you think.”

  He spread his hands in a gesture of acquiescence. “I’ve yet to have to force a woman. It shall be as you desire.”

  She glanced over his shoulder to where the castle stood. “Well . . . if you really don’t mind taking me, I’d like to have a tour, but I’m afraid I won’t be free until tomorrow. Would that be OK?”

  “Do you know,” he said conversationally, “it’s almost beyond my ability to keep from making a joke about my willingness to take you, but given your attitude on such things, I shall refrain.”

  To his delight, she giggled, smothering it with a hand. “My mouth again.”

  “Yes. I like it.”

  “Seriously?” She thinned her lips at him. “Can’t you say anything that isn’t filled with innuendos?”

  “I don’t know,” he said, thinking about it. “I’ve never tried. Tomorrow would be fine for a tour, by the way.”

  “Sounds good. I’ll see you in the morning, then.”

  “I’m an early riser, no pun intended,” he called after her as she hurried off, and wondered why it was she had wanted to meet him in the first pla
ce. He was no stranger to women seeking out his company, but Lorina hadn’t given him that vibe—on the contrary, he had a strong suspicion she was almost afraid of him. He watched her go, noting that she had a more graceful version of his daughter’s lope, one that showed off her ass and her long legs to their best advantage.

  He didn’t want her afraid of him. Quite the opposite: he felt an odd need to prove to her that he wasn’t like the men who had obviously treated her so badly. Not like that Thompson, he thought, narrowing his eyes. He knew the type well—all self-aggrandizement and conceit. Not at all the sort of man Lorina should be with. No, what she needed was a man who would take care of her while giving her the freedom to be who and what she wanted. Thompson was sure to be the sort of man who put women into categories, and insisted they conform to type.

  The trick was to get her to see him as someone who wasn’t a threat. With Rupert, he had simply made sure that he was always there, always supportive no matter how much Rupert had acted up. Gunner had survived numerous bouts of violence from his troubled brother, both physical and verbal, but he’d always responded with calm acceptance.

  The challenge was to do the same with Lorina. She clearly wasn’t interested in him as a sexual partner, but that didn’t stop him from wanting to comfort her the way he had Rupert at his worst.

  “There’s nothing I love so much as a challenge, unless it’s the mystery of womanhood,” he said aloud, and with a waggle of his eyebrows at one of the barn cats, he turned the scooter around and went to find Roger d’Aspry. What better way to prove to Lorina that he wasn’t a typical man than to ensure she spent several hours a day with him? Roger d’Aspry would simply have to designate her to be his sidekick in the video explanations of the dig.

  He’d be the perfect gentleman, and return Lorina’s suspicion with kindness until she, like Rupert of years past, finally realized that he was a man to be trusted.

  A little kernel of warmth deep inside him glowed happily at the thought.

  Chapter 7

  The second day started with a complaint from my tentmate.