"You think I'm a cold-blooded killer?" Cam sounded amused.
"I think you're a crack shot with a temper. If someone was stealing your woman from beneath your nose—"
"Your woman?" I said, lifting an eyebrow.
Jeremy ignored my objections to being referred to as a possession. "Be quiet, woman. You have deplorable taste in men. Anyone ever tell you that? All your weak-ass ex could do was impotently jump up and down in the sand while we snatched you away."
He aped Nigel's furious jumping. That, and his description of the livid Nigel shaking his fist at us and yelling at us to stop, cracked us up.
I laughed until there were tears in my eyes. I was amazed at how good it felt to be at peace with myself. To know myself. To feel like myself again.
Once we were all pleasantly full, we sat in the lounge chairs to watch the sun come up, each in our own, except for Austin and me. Of course we shared. Neither of us was eager to lose physical contact with the other. I sat in front of him, head resting on his chest, content as we watched the sunrise.
"You're in luck," I said to Austin. "No red sky in morning. No need for us to take warning."
He rested his chin on my head. "Very good news indeed. We have a fine day ahead of us."
He glanced at Jeremy, who elbowed Cam, who winked at Dylan. Even Lazer had an amused look on his face and seemed to be in on whatever they were up to. And I was sure they were up to something. I let it slide. I would find out soon enough.
"So?" I said dreamily. Were any of them planning to go to bed this night? Or were we pulling an all-nighter. "Camelot. What's the plan there?"
Austin cleared his throat, as if he'd suddenly choked on something.
Lazer stepped in for him. "We sail around Cornwall and anchor outside Tintagel in the morning. My captain already has us underway." He glanced at Austin. "I've reserved the castle for us in the morning. We have it all to ourselves from eight until regular opening hours at ten."
I turned to stare at Lazer, amazed, and deeply touched. Maybe I still wasn't in full possession of all I should have remembered about how connected he was and what being a billionaire really meant. "That's like another wild dream of mine coming true."
Lazer smiled. "So I've heard. Welcome back, Blair."
I brushed a happy tear away. "Thank you."
"Just be prepared for it to be a bit more commercial than you imagine," Austin whispered in my ear. "I don't want you to be disappointed. The Cornish are upset that the castle is becoming too much like a theme park."
"I love theme parks," I said.
Jeremy, Dylan, and Cam agreed with me.
"As long as I can see the castle and the statue of King Arthur. And if there were a princess or two walking around…" I tilted my head back and winked at Austin.
"Spoken like a true ugly American!" Lazer said.
"And happy to be one," I said. "Vulgarity suits us."
"That statue is what has people upset," Cam said.
I shrugged. I understood their concerns. But the modern generation was allowed to make some improvements to things, weren't they? What harm could one statue do?
"Even though I have Cornish ancestry too, I'm definitely too American and too English for the Cornish, I guess." I paused. "We'd better be careful showing our enthusiasm for theme-park-like elements or soon the Cornish will be posting signs—Americans Out."
The guys stared at me blankly.
"Sorry," I said. "You haven't had time to cruise around Fowey and the coast and see the signs that say English Out. The Cornish are tired of the English invasion during tourist season. And of the English from the city buying second homes, driving the native Cornish out, and raising home prices for the locals. It's a common problem. So it's the ugly English as far as the Cornish are concerned." I snuggled into Austin, my kilt-wearing American, reveling in his warmth and idly stroking his strong thighs where his kilt hiked up.
"That's the way of tourist towns almost everywhere, isn't it?" Lazer said. "Those with money want their time in paradise. The little guys, the locals, are conflicted. They need the tourists, and yet they're a curse." He cleared his throat. "Back to the original point. Everyone needs to be up and ready to roll just before eight. We want to get our full two hours in Camelot." Lazer looked at his watch. "How well do you all do on less than three hours' sleep?" He laughed as if he already knew the answer.
The guys were used to pulling all-nighters. That was what coders, gamers, and software geeks did.
Dylan began chanting, "All-nighter. All-nighter."
Jeremy joined in.
"I'm game," Cam said. "When was the last all-nighter we pulled?"
Dylan pursed his lips. "Last week? We were gaming all night."
I yawned. I'd pulled my share of all-nighters in med school and as a resident. But I was also still recovering from my accident. That was my excuse, anyway. And my out.
Austin came to my rescue. "Blair's barely out the hospital a few days. She needs her rest. Naptime."
"Naptime?" Cam said.
"Right." Dylan nudged Cam. "Wink, wink. Nod, nod."
Lazer talked over them. "As she's the only lady onboard, and still recovering, I'm not about to bunk her anywhere near the likes of you guys. Blair, I've given you the owner's deck with the master suite for this trip. You'll have the run of an entire deck to yourself."
"I can't take the owner's deck," I protested. "That belongs to you—"
Lazer held up a hand. "No arguments, young lady." He pointed to the guys. "I'll take the VIP suite on the upper deck away from the riffraff. Men, there are four bedroom suites on the main deck. You have the run of that deck. One of the suites is a VIP suite. The others are regular suites. Fight among yourselves as to who gets what. Your luggage is on the lower deck. Let's not wear the steward out. Each of you grab your own bag."
"Dylan is going to need the biggest bed and room. I say he gets the VIP suite," Jeremy said. "Cam and I will take the regular rooms and use Austin's as a communal lounge."
Lazer stared him down.
"What?" Jeremy said, acting innocent, and maybe even genuinely puzzled. "Austin's not going to need his room. Isn't that the real reason you put them on their own deck, so they can bang the headboard without disturbing the rest of us?" He winked at Austin.
I winced at the close association of the words "bang" and "head," not at what Jeremy implied.
Lazer came to my rescue. "Whether Blair invites"—he looked at Austin—"anyone to visit her deck is entirely up to her." He looked back to me. "Your bags are already in your suite, Blair." He signaled the steward. "Show Dr. Edwards to the owner's deck."
Austin slid out behind me and helped me up. I hung on to his hand, refusing to let go.
His eyes met mine, full of hope and desire. The important question was written on his face: Is this an invitation to join you?
I'd spent the better part of a week with Nigel, trying to put him off. Conflicted. Feeling guilty. But with Austin, I had no reservations.
"Come with me," I whispered. "Please."
Chapter 2
Blair
There was only one thing I wanted to do—fall asleep in Austin's arms. Maybe two, if you counted making love with him first. But that was merely part of the act. The soporific effects of lovemaking can't be denied. Nor can the frustrating waking effects of a long period of abstinence. Lying next to Austin and trying to sleep without the prelude of sex would have been completely futile, even as I tired as I was.
The steward showed us to the owner's deck, a luxurious area below the sundeck. He pointed out a few of the key features—the his-and-hers bathrooms and closets and the recessed TV—and quietly disappeared. The room was a large half-circle with the bed against the wall. It faced the floor-to-ceiling windows at the front of the ship. Sheer drapes over the windows were the only protection against Peeping Toms—which would have been only seabirds out here—and let the light and view in.
The bed was a king in a dark wood frame, piled high
with pillows and draped with fringed afghans. It was invitingly turned down "for the night." Although night was already pretty much a memory.
A ring of carpet ran in front of the windows, dotted with dark furniture—a desk and chair, a dresser, a stand topped with a vase of fresh flowers. But the bed stood in the middle of a circle of parquet floor many shades lighter than the bedframe. Above the bed, a round skylight fashioned like an enormous ceiling porthole gave a view of the sky overhead.
After the steward left, we both stared at that bed. I knew what I was thinking. And, as tired as I was, it had nothing to do with sleeping, but played more to my fantasy of making love beneath open skies. The bed looked lovely and inviting, true. But I wouldn't have minded sharing a cramped bunk, as long as Austin was my bunkmate.
He pulled me to him and slid the hair off my neck and over my shoulder. "You're wearing my favorite dress from that shopping trip you dragged me on for this vacation."
"Am I?"
He nodded and gently traced my neck with the back of his fingers just the way I liked. But then, I liked nearly every way he touched me.
He lifted the silver luckenbooth brooch I'd pinned to my dress and examined it with a wry grin on his face. "And you're wearing my brooch." He looked up at me from beneath long, thick lashes. "I sneaked this brooch on you without telling you the significance and let you take it, hoping it would mean something more to you later. Do you know the meaning of the luckenbooth?"
"Oh, aye." I nodded solemnly. "The tealeaf reader told me. She recognized it immediately."
"And yet you're still wearing it?"
"I kept it near even when I couldn't remember you specifically."
"Me, specifically?" His small smile grew until it lit his whole face. "You remembered me in general, then?"
I grinned back at him. How was it he always made me smile? "The brooch made me happy. So yes, smart aleck, I remembered you in general."
Even given the craziness of the conversation, he seemed to like my answer. "Now that you remember, you might recall we were talking about getting married."
I nodded. My heart raced. "I do. Are you proposing?"
He shook his head. "No. When I propose, there will be no doubt in your mind you're being proposed to."
"Is that so?" I suppressed a bubble of laughter. "You're not planning to use a skywriter or something equally large and blatant, I hope?"
He shrugged. "Skywriting? Are you kidding? With all the pressure on guys to come up with a romantic proposal? Too risky. A windy day could set that plan awry."
I ran my hand down his hips to the front of his kilt, which had my attention and was lifting enticingly. "I suppose you're right. 'Will you harry me?' doesn't have quite the right ring."
Still holding the brooch with one hand, he caught my wrist with the other without breaking his gaze. "I'm serious, Blair. Women plan their weddings from the time they're little girls. Guys go carelessly through life, not thinking too hard on it until it becomes obvious we have to think of a special way to pop the question."
"What are you asking?" I shook my hand free of his grip and grabbed him by the shoulders, amused, touched, and sorry I was giving him so much trouble. He was clearly insecure and wondering where we stood. "Are you wondering if it's still worth the trouble? If I've changed my mind?"
He nodded. "I guess I am." He paused. "You've been in an accident. Had a nasty bump on the head. You could have come to your senses and changed your mind. If you need more time—"
"I don't need any more time to know my mind." I stroked his hair and his soft red curls. "I haven't forgotten I love you. The accident did me a favor—it showed me what my life would be like if I'd never met you. I don't want that life. Not at all."
He brushed my breast with his fingertips, not accidentally, as he let go of the brooch and stared into my eyes. "That's good to hear. While I was cooped up as the guest of the government, you were all I could think of. You, and all of the things I wanted to do with you when I saw you again. The places I would kiss." He kissed the side of my neck and then the hollow of my throat. "The way I would suck on your nipples until they budded like ripe raspberries."
He didn't wait to remove my dress. He lifted my breasts in his big, warm hands and kissed the tops of them, sliding his tongue between the crests until I sighed, before moving to suck the nipple of the right one through the thin cotton of my dress.
"You always suck the right one first," I said, pleased with myself for remembering and trying not to be too distracted by what he was doing. There was no doubt I'd be slick and ready for him when he was ready to lift my skirt—and his. "Did you know that?"
"It's easier to tilt my head that way. I'm right-handed," he said, nipping at my breast gently through the fabric.
"And right sucking." I sighed again. "Don't stop."
"Don't worry," he said. "I have no intention of stopping until we've both completely reached completion."
"Complete completion," I said. "You have a way with words."
"That's what they tell me." He muttered something about my dress getting in the way of things and slid his hand up my bare thigh, lifting my skirt and searching for the waistband of my lace bikini panties.
I laughed softly at his muttering as he cupped my butt.
"You have a fine ass, mo chridhe," he said, putting on his Jamie imitation.
Mo chridhe meant my heart. The words thrilled mine. His hand thrilled something else.
"I dreamed of you," I whispered, running my hands over his shoulders and down his arms. I'd always loved the firm, strong muscles of them. "But there's nothing like having you here in the flesh. Not even the power of a dream can compete with the real you."
He momentarily paused the progress he was making with my panties. "I thought you didn't remember me, specifically?"
"Mm," I said, leaning into his hand, encouraging him to find my sweet spot. I was so ready for him. Once he slid my finger inside, he'd find out just how wet and ready I was for him. "I'm not sure whether I remembered you or made the dreams up. We were making love in a forest."
He tensed. "We made love in the forest at the gathering."
"Did we? Good. Maybe it was a memory, then. It was…well"—I smiled—"it was climactic, you might say. See? I have a way with words, too. And beautiful. It was beautiful."
He relaxed. "These panties are impeding social progress." He pulled them down with a gentle tug.
I neatly stepped out of them and kicked them away, ready and eager to be naked with him. I pulled my sundress over my head and tossed it away, reaching for his T-shirt. "This isn't fair." I tugged at the hem of his shirt and clasped it in my grip.
The sun was rising higher in the sky by the moment, filling the room with streaming light. I stood before Austin, naked, bruises and all. My bleeding had stopped, fortunately. I would have to tell him about the miscarriage sometime. But now was definitely not the moment. I tried to tease his shirt off, but he remained frozen in place.
As his gaze travelled over my bruised body, he tensed and set his jaw. "Damn it, Blair." His voice broke as he gently touched the worst of the bruises so lightly it was as if he was hardly touching me at all.
"They're worse than they look." I tried to pull his T-shirt off.
He resisted. But his kilt was still lifting for me. "You look far too delicate for what I have in mind." He took my bare breasts in his hands and hefted them the way I loved. "Even these are bruised. I could—" He managed to get control of himself. "What did Nigel do to you that day at the pub?" His jaw ticked. He bent and kissed my breasts reverently before softly releasing them and sliding his hands to my waist. "What did he do to upset you?"
"He asked me to marry him."
"Damn it, Blair." Austin shook his head. "You say that so matter-of-factly. You really know how to encourage a guy."
I smiled. "He isn't you. That's the difference."
He allowed me to pull his shirt off and toss it away, standing very still as I leaned forward and suc
ked his left nipple first, very intentionally.
"Ambidextrous," he said, aware of my intention.
It was delicious to tease and spar with a man again, a man who had a sense of humor. "The kilt, too, big boy." I reached for the waistband.
He beat me to it. The kilt fell to the floor. He stood very still as I ran my hands over him and examined him in much the same way he had examined me.
"No bruises," I said wryly. "No outward signs of torture."
"The torture was all mental, Southron," he said. "Seeing you hurt, watching the news of you with him, and not being able to get to you. I would have done anything—"
I put a finger to his lips. "I know." I glanced down at my stomach, where he was erect against my bellybutton. "I think we can do better than this."
"Hell yes." He swooped me into his arms, carried me to the open bed, and laid me on my back. He hesitated again. "I'll be gentle. Let me know if I'm hurting you—"
"I won't break." I pulled him into a kiss as he straddled me, on his knees. It was clear we were both ready. I guided him to my entrance. "That's enough foreplay."
"You've gotten more commanding since your head injury, doc."
"Shut up and make love to me." I pulled him down and into me.
The rhythm of lovemaking, our lovemaking, was another thing I hadn't forgotten. Or maybe it was just that we had the gift of rhythm and finding a way to be in perfect sync. I sighed happily as he gently drove into me, resigned that this was not going to be pounding, animalistic sex. Nor was it going to take long. I was already on the very edge. As I thrust my hips up to meet him, I felt him straining to hold back with the very first thrust.
I looped my legs around his back and kissed his shoulder, closing my eyes and letting the pleasure, and the warm, loving comfort of him, envelop me.
He thrust. I gasped with pleasure. He paused.
"Keep going," I said. "Just keep going, Austin. I'm fine."
"Good," he whispered hoarsely in my ear. "Because there's no stopping me now."
Another couple of thrusts and the waves of climax washed over me. He grunted and buried his head in my neck. I cried out and clutched him to me.
Simply Austin (The Jet City Kilt Series) (Volume 4) Page 2
