A Kiss in the Shadows

by Marie Patrick

  “Thank you.” He nodded toward the man, hefted his saddlebags over his shoulder, and started to walk away, then changed his mind and came back to the desk. “We’d like to keep the room for a couple of days, perhaps a full week. Is that possible?”

  “Oh yes, indeed.” The innkeeper’s eyes lit up behind the lenses of his spectacles as he quickly made several marks among the pages of his ledger, then closed the book with a snap. “Room three is yours until Friday.”

  “How much do I owe you?”

  He did a quick though silent calculation on his fingers, then came up with a more than fair price. Given that people were desperate to get out of the rain and have accommodations for the night, hotel owners and innkeepers alike could charge whatever they liked…and people would pay or be forced to deal with the storm raging outside. Brock pulled money from his pocket, counted out the appropriate amount for a week, and slid it across the shiny surface of the desk. Mr. Winthorpe slipped the money into the desk drawer without recounting it.

  With one final nod, Brock crossed the lobby and climbed the stairs.

  He knocked softly on the door to room three, then let himself in, only to stop short in the doorway and suck in his breath. Stevie stood in front of the fireplace, her hands stretched toward the crackling flames. Firelight reflected on her face, giving her a warm glow. The towel Mr. Winthorpe had given her earlier was wrapped around her head in a turban. She had pulled the colorful quilt from the bed and draped it around herself, clutching the material close to her body, her right shoulder exposed and gleaming. Underneath the quilt, he guessed she wore nothing—her clothes, the ones she’d put on this morning, were scattered about the room. Frilly drawers hung from the doorknob of the armoire in the corner, her lace-edged corset was laid flat on the bureau, her split skirt and blouse were spread over chairs so they could dry, her chemise hung from one of the bedposts.

  She turned toward him, but didn’t move away from the heat of the fire. He noticed a smudge of ash on her cheek, but at least her teeth had stopped chattering. She gestured to her improvised toga and shrugged. If she blushed, he couldn’t tell in the meager light cast by the fire and the small lantern on the table. “Everything is wet and if it isn’t wet, it’s damp and cold so I decided this would be better.”

  Outside, rain slammed against the window as the wind howled over the rooftop, but inside, flames flickered behind the ornate brass screen, where her thick wool socks hung to dry. Her gaze rose up to meet his. She didn’t blink, but she did smile…and what a beautiful smile. Desire swept through him, heating his blood, warming him despite his wet clothes. For a moment, all Brock could do was stare and take in her loveliness.

  “Brock?”

  “Hmmm?”

  “It would help if you closed the door.”

  “What? Oh. Sorry.” Startled, he felt the rush of heat on his face as he took a few more steps into the room and closed the door. His gaze swept over her once more, from the top of her head to her feet, which peeked out from beneath the quilt. She wiggled her toes, again startling him. Unexpected laughter burst from him as he crossed the room and wrapped her in his arms. She squealed as his wet clothes touched her but didn’t move away from him.

  “Mr. Winthorpe is sending up some soup.” He let her go, then reached out to caress the side of her face with his thumb. “I’m so sorry, Stevie. We should have stopped earlier.”

  “No, this is much better than a cave. It’s a cozy room, don’t you think?”

  “It’s quite cozy,” he agreed, but he wasn’t interested in the furnishings. Well, that wasn’t quite true. The huge four-poster bed certainly had his attention and he could think of nothing he’d like better than to lay her down on the thick mattress and make mad, sweet, passionate love to her. With that thought in mind, he nuzzled that sweet spot between her ear and collarbone while he pulled off the turban around her head. Mostly dry now, her hair tumbled down her back in wild curls. He tangled his fingers into those silken strands and inhaled her honeysuckle scent as he started walking her backward toward the bed.

  “You’re still wet,” she chuckled against his chest, then moved her head and gazed up into his face. Brock needed no more invitation than that. His mouth descended to hers in a deep, rousing kiss, his fingers still tangled in her hair.

  A brisk knock on the door interrupted his intentions. Brock groaned and pulled away from her. He gestured to the quilt, which had slipped a little, exposing more of her than anyone other than himself should see, and motioned for her to move out of sight. Once Stevie Rae did so, he opened the door a crack.

  A girl, caught in that awkward stage between adorable child and stunning young woman, dark brown hair in braids hanging behind each ear, stood on the other side of the door, a wheeled cart in front of her. “Father asked me to bring this up for you.” Mr. Winthorpe had outdone himself. Or rather, his wife had. Several covered dishes adorned the cart’s surface along with silverware and a small pot of coffee. Silver candlesticks held long, slim tapers, and a beautiful red rose in a crystal vase completed the arrangement.

  His stomach growled, but instead of letting her into the room, Brock opened the door a little wider. “Thank you. I’ll take it from here.” He reached into his pocket for a coin, which he gave the girl.

  “But sir, I’m supposed to—”

  “That won’t be necessary.”

  The girl nodded, though it was clear she wasn’t happy, and walked away, stopping once on the landing to look at him, tilt her head in curiosity, then shrug and skip down the stairs, flipping the gold coin she’d been given.

  Brock brought the cart into the room and closed the door behind him with his foot, then rolled it forward, placing it beside the table between the fireplace and one of the windows.

  Stevie Rae wasted no time transferring everything to the table. He was unable to take his eyes from her as she moved with infinite grace, the quilt flaring open just enough to reveal a long shapely leg. She sighed with obvious pleasure as she started removing the silver covers to reveal a feast for the eyes as well as the stomach.

  Cold chicken breast lay spread out on one plate, the edges of each slice topped by a strip of golden brown, and steam rose from a small tureen of soup. A loaf of dark bread with a bowl of soft, creamy butter beside it lent the heavenly scent of rosemary to the air. Sliced apples and pears alternated between equally thick slices of cheese on another plate. A bottle of wine as well as a small pot of coffee completed the meal.

  He glanced up from the table to find her steady gaze on him as she padded toward the bed in her bare feet. Her toes peeked out from beneath the quilt, and again, he saw a flash of shapely calf as she pulled another blanket from the mattress.

  She handed him the blanket, then sauntered over to the fireplace where she moved the screen aside and grabbed a piece of kindling from the fire. Brock stood in the middle of the room, blanket over his arm, unable to move. He hoped to see more of her, another flash of her creamy skin, as she lit the candles on the table with the flaming end of the stick, then tossed it back into the fire and adjusted the ornate screen.

  She pulled out one of the chairs and sat. The quilt parted, revealing her knees, calves, and feet but nothing else. “Are you going to stay in your wet clothes?” Her voice, soft and sultry, echoed in his ears, and heat surged through him as did that feeling of peace he liked so much.

  “Hmmm?”

  The tip of her tongue swiped against her bottom lip, making it shine, before the corners of her mouth lifted up in a smile. “You should change.”

  It took more willpower than he thought he possessed, but finally, he was able to tear his gaze away from the temptation that was Stevie Rae. “Yes. I should.” Brock sat on the edge of the room’s blue-striped camelback settee and pulled off his boots. He wiggled his toes in his wet wool socks, amazed that his socks could become so wet inside his boots. He shook his head, peeled the socks off his feet, padded barefoot to the fireplace, and hung them over the ornate screen, next to Ste
vie’s. He placed his boots beside hers, too, then started to unbutton his shirt.

  • • •

  Stevie Rae sat at the table and admired the view as Brock shrugged out of his shirt. Firelight reflected off the perfection of his bare back, muscles moving beneath taut skin as he tossed his shirt across the back of the sofa. He turned to face her and grinned. The world as Stevie knew it turned on its axis and spun in the opposite direction, leaving her a bit woozy as desire for this man surged through her.

  His grin remained in place and she thought he might be teasing her as he slowly unbuckled the gun belt slung low around his slim hips and put it aside, but still within easy reach. She let out her breath in a rush as his hands slipped down to the waistband of his trousers and watched, unembarrassed, as he unbuttoned his pants and slid them down to the floor. He wore no drawers beneath his trousers, and she caught an eyeful of his perfect backside as he sauntered over to the fireplace and slung the trousers over the screen next to his socks.

  Her face grew hot, but her mouth dried as her eyes rose up to his face. There was a promise in his eyes, which roamed over her, leaving her warm and feeling oh-so-wanted. His gaze drifted toward the big four-poster bed, the mattress now missing blanket and quilt, then back to her. Moisture gathered between her thighs.

  He wrapped the blanket around himself much the way she had done, hiding that hard, muscled body from sight, and slipped into the seat beside her.

  “You didn’t eat anything.”

  “I waited for you.”

  They ate in silence with just the hiss and snap of the fire and the rain pattering against the window for accompaniment. Though her body craved the food so thoughtfully prepared, she craved his touch so much more. She popped a piece of succulent chicken into her mouth and chewed, though she hardly tasted it. Warm and dry now, expectation settled in her belly as his gaze swept over her, his eyes a dark, smoldering gray in the candlelight. Their plates were almost empty, the bread nearly gone. Her hand shook just a bit as she reached for the crystal glass and finished the last of the hearty red wine in one swallow. As she did so, her eyes drifted toward the bed again. The craving to feel the heat of his body pressing against her became a physical need. She wanted him. Now.

  Beneath the table, she moved his blanket aside with her foot, then caressed his leg, her toes sliding up to his knee then back down. Brock grinned and raised an eyebrow, then opened his legs a little wider.

  Knuckles rapped against their door, interrupting her play.

  “Ah, that must be the hot water for the bath.”

  “A bath? You ordered one for me?”

  He said nothing, but a crooked smile tilted the corners of his mouth. This wasn’t the first time he’d thought of her, and the sweetness of his gesture made her heart beat a little faster.

  Brock put his napkin aside, rose from his chair, and adjusted his blanket before padding across the floor. He opened the door a crack and peered through. Stevie heard a low-voiced conversation, then the door opened wider and a young man entered the room carrying buckets. He nodded once toward her as he tromped across the floor and stopped before a section of the wall to the right of the fireplace. Stevie Rae watched him, curious as to why he stopped where he did. There was no door she could see. He placed one of the buckets on the floor and pressed against the panel with his hand. Stevie Rae heard a distinct click before the panel moved. The boy slid the panel along the wall to reveal a small hidden alcove with a brass bathtub big enough for two.

  Another boy followed, bringing more water. They made several trips between them to fill the tub a little more than halfway. Finished, and several coins richer, they closed the door to their room softly behind them.

  After the boys left, Brock made himself comfortable at the table and picked at the last of the apples and pears. He poured another glass of wine, leaned back in his chair, took a sip, and watched her, a smile playing on his lips. Mischief twinkled in his eyes and the heat of his stare warmed her from head to toe and every place in between. He nodded toward the bathtub in the small alcove. “You shouldn’t let the water get cold.”

  Self-conscious beneath the directness of his gaze, Stevie rose from her seat and pulled her quilt closer around her body. She moved toward the tub and tested the water. It was perfect. But he hadn’t taken his eyes off her. She could close the panel, she supposed, but that would leave her in total darkness. There were no wall sconces, no shelves to place a candle.

  “Are you just going to sit there and watch me?”

  “Yes.” His voice seemed tight, as if he struggled with the one word.

  He had seen her naked before, but for reasons she couldn’t explain, his intent gaze made her a bit nervous. Perhaps it was the raw desire she saw gleaming in the depths of his eyes. Or perhaps it was the anticipation surging through her in an uncontrollable tide. Whatever the reason, she hesitated then drew a deep breath and dropped the quilt on the floor. She sank into the hot water, the last vestiges of coldness leaving her, and let out a long sigh as she leaned her head back on the rim of the tub. Closing her eyes, she let the heat of the water soothe her. “Oh, this is heaven.”

  She heard him grunt and the sound seemed a little closer than before, but she didn’t think anything of it, nor did it disturb her when she heard him rummage around in his saddlebags or when his bare feet padded across the floor.

  “Stevie.” His voice was much closer now. Her lips twitched into a smile before a soft plink and the sudden splash of water on her face made her open her eyes wide. “You forgot your soap.”

  She’d been right. He was much closer—standing beside her in all his naked glory, a devil-may-care grin spreading his lips beneath his mustache, his blanket puddled on the floor. She could have reached out and caressed his thigh or better yet, his fully engorged manhood. She could move her head a little and probably slip him into her mouth.

  Her eyes opened wider, startled and surprised by her own thoughts, and the rush of anticipation surging through her left her feeling weak, yet empowered. Could she? Did she dare? She’d never…but…

  She didn’t have time to decide or even act on the impulse. Brock leaned forward, his hands resting on the rim of the tub, and captured her mouth beneath his. Stevie Rae rose up to deepen the kiss, her body thrumming with expectation, but she didn’t have the chance to do anything else except stifle a startled gasp as he pulled away, then slid into the tub behind her. Water sloshed against the sides of the bath, splashing over the rim to splatter on the floor. “Brock!”

  He settled behind her and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer so she leaned against him, her back to his chest, her hips between his thighs, his full arousal hard against her lower back.

  “Now, where is that soap?”

  Stevie Rae stifled a giggle as he searched the bath for the sliver of soap he’d dropped into the water. His hand encountered her thigh, leading to a long caress that left her anticipating more. He did not disappoint—his fingertips traveled upward and just grazed the curls at the juncture between her thighs, enough to make her gasp with pleasure.

  “Got it.” The teasing quality of his voice made her heart thump as did the sight of him rubbing the soap between his big hands. Foamy lather bubbled over his skin before he allowed the slim sliver to drop back into the water. She held her breath, waiting for his touch, and sighed when he smoothed the lather over her stomach and upward to cup her breasts, his thumbs sliding over her nipples. Instantly, the dusty rosebuds hardened. She closed her eyes and reveled in his caress, not daring to move lest he stop the sweet torture.

  “Do you like that?” he whispered in her ear, producing goose bumps over her entire body, and she shivered when his teeth grazed her earlobe.

  “Hmmmm” was all she could manage as his hands moved over her, caressing her breasts before moving lower, smoothing over her belly once more, then lower still. He didn’t touch her where she wanted to be touched the most, though she thrust her hips upward. Instead, his fingers just gra
zed the place that yearned for his caress while he planted kisses on the back of her neck.

  Her breath quickened, her blood surging through her veins to her center. Unable to tolerate his teasing glances against her swollen folds for a moment longer, she grabbed his hand and trapped it between her thighs, then drew her legs together.

  “So that’s what you want.” He chuckled, sending another shiver down her spine and more heat racing through her. “Happy to comply.” His fingers delved between her swollen folds, finding the very core of her. Of their own accord, her legs parted and her hips rocked, trying to set a pace that would ease the pressure building within her, but he seemed to have his own rhythm and her actions brought no relief. Her body was tightening, coiling, ready to explode in pure pleasure, and yet, he wouldn’t give her what she wanted, what she needed. He seemed to enjoy building the tension within her. She whimpered as he rubbed the soapy fingers of one hand around and around her erect nipple while he kept up a slow, steady cadence over the nub between her folds with the other.

  Desperate, she groaned, “Now, Brock! Now!”

  Once again, he complied and pressed hard against her with his fingers. Her release rippled through her immediately, making her shudder with its power. Stevie couldn’t help the deep moan that escaped her as her body pulsed beneath his hand.

  She turned in his arms, splashing water over the sides of the bath, and sprawled atop him, her spine arched, her breasts crushed against his chest, his arousal hard against her belly. She touched her lips to his and kissed him deeply, the place between her thighs still throbbing from the force of her climax.

  “Maybe we should move to the bed,” she whispered when she broke the kiss.

  “Maybe we should.” He touched her lips with his, then grinned. “Or maybe we can stay right here.” He took possession of her mouth, his tongue sweeping the warm recesses as he reached between them, his hand snaking along her belly and lower, to once more delve into her springy curls. Stevie Rae sucked in her breath as his fingers unerringly found the key to her release and started slowly caressing her. She couldn’t help herself. She moved against his hand, her back arching even more, then rose to her knees, her legs wide as she straddled his thighs, his hand still between hers, caressing her lightly. A soft whimper escaped her as Brock lifted her breast closer, then drew her nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the pointed crest.