by Wilde, Lori
“After my dad left, she was a wreck. She took up with the first guy who came along. He turned out to be a con man who took her life savings.” Dougal clenched his teeth. The muscle at his jaw jumped.
Roxie reached out to touch his hand. “You felt responsible, like you should have protected her.”
“Yeah,” he admitted, then offered her a fleeting smile. “I blamed myself. I wondered what I’d done to chase my father off.”
“You were just a kid. Kids blame themselves for things beyond their control.”
“I know.”
“But it still haunts you.”
“You’re too perceptive for my own good, Roxanne Stanley.”
“So how’s your mom now?”
“Good. She moved to Florida to take care of my grandmother when I joined the Air Force and signed up for officer’s training. After my grandmother died, she started her own business, a transportation company that chauffeurs the elderly and disabled to where they need to go.”
“You must be proud of her.”
“I am. She’s a strong woman.”
“Through the Air Force you got to see the world.”
“I did.”
“I’m jealous. Until I moved to Brooklyn, I’d never been out of Albany.”
“Have you traveled much since then?”
“I went to Atlantic City once and the Catskills.”
“That’s it?”
“I’m here now.”
“So this is Roxie’s big adventure.” His gaze was heated.
The waitress returned with their food and drink order. Roxie took a big swallow of lager and cast about for something to say to get her mind off the hot, tingling firing along her nerve endings.
Dougal picked up a piece of thick black bread and began buttering it. “Although I’m not sure how smart it is to take off across the Atlantic on your own.”
“I’m not on my own. I’m with a tour group.”
“But we’re all strangers to you.”
“Anyone can betray you—strangers, acquaintances, friends. You can’t live your life being afraid of getting deceived. I know we’ve just met, but I get the feeling you’re a pretty suspicious guy,” she said, but then she reminded herself he had every right to be suspicious, especially where she was concerned. Like it or not, she was a spy. She kept forgetting that. While she wasn’t doing anything illegal, she was certain that Taylor Corben would consider her conduct unethical. Plus, spying went against Roxie’s own moral code and she wished she wasn’t in a position to have to do it. She bit down on her bottom lip thinking of the photos she’d snapped of the resort during the middle of the night and had e-mailed to her boss. She hadn’t exposed anything yet, but she knew he’d pressure her for more.
“You’re right.”
“You’ve been betrayed?”
“Haven’t we all?”
“If you ever want to talk about it…” She shrugged. Why was she trying to get close to him? She should take Jess’s advice and keep the personal information to a minimum. With his eagle-eyed gaze and leery nature, he stood a good chance of figuring out what she was really doing here. “I’ve been told I’m a good listener.”
“Thanks for the offer,” he murmured, but his eyes said, There’s no way in hell I’m taking you up on it.
And Roxie couldn’t help wondering why she suddenly felt so sad for him.
8
AFTER LUNCH, THE TOUR headed to some ancient Roman ruins. The sky had grown overcast and the air hung damp and gloomy. They drove for over an hour and then passed a small village. The bus took a corner near a pub and souvenir shop, then ambled along the road curving up a rolling hillside. From out of nowhere, imposing rock ruins rose out of the bucolic English countryside.
Tiny blue butterflies basked on colorful flowers sprouting amidst the stone walls. Yellowhammers and greenfinches darted among the hedgerows. A magical place straight out of the storybooks layered with detailed history.
Dougal regaled them with stories about the Roman invasion of Britain in 43 AD, and Roxie’s imagination stirred. He led them through the ruins to find a small stone church on the other side. “The church is believed to have been built in the twelfth century, over six hundred years after the Romans abandoned this location for reasons unknown. It was erected over a Roman temple using the original stones.”
They moved away from the church, down a grassy green slope toward a small stream babbling over rocks. There lay an ancient cemetery, dark tombstones sticking up in the gathering fog.
“There’s also a romantic legend attached to this cemetery.” Dougal pointed out a gravestone. “It centers on a brave knight, Sir Gareth, who fell in love at first sight with lovely Sarah Mead, the daughter of the local lord. But alas, she was betrothed to another. To be together, they were forced to meet in secret in the bell tower of the church. There on the eve of Sarah’s wedding to another man, they consummated their love.”
It was fascinating stuff, but not as fascinating as the man doing the talking. His incredible body was too distracting for words. Roxie kept imagining she and Dougal were those star-crossed lovers. He was a stalwart knight and she was a maiden in a fix, doing the forbidden by following her heart. Desire held her tightly in its grip, and she couldn’t shake the thought of making love to Dougal in that bell tower just as the young lovers had done centuries before.
“The lord’s men caught them in the act, and he had the knight beheaded and his daughter banished to a nunnery. Distraught over losing her one true love, the grief-stricken Sarah took her own life,” he continued.
Emotion hit low in Roxie’s stomach. History was filled with such cruel stories about couples who’d gambled it all on love and lost not only each other, but their lives.
Romantic sentiment overwhelmed her as she thought of the past. She wanted to feel passion like that. Her gaze strayed to Dougal.
His eyes were on her.
Her pulse raced and in that moment she was Lady Sarah and he was Sir Gareth.
Dougal moistened his lips with the tip of his tongue.
Excitement she’d never felt before blazed through her. She had to do something about this neediness inside her or go mad. The bell-tower church, she thought. It was the perfect place to be alone and fantasize that she and Dougal were those doomed lovers.
Or better yet, entice him into making love to her right here.
DOUGAL WAS DOING HIS BEST to keep his mind on the task at hand and off Roxie, but he wasn’t having much luck. As he talked, his gaze traveled over the bodice of Roxie’s dress. She leaned over to study a headstone, enhancing his view of her cleavage. He took in the rounded swell of her breasts, her luminous skin.
She cast him a sideways glance and that’s when he realized she was purposely letting him see straight down the opening of her top. She was teasing him, the little minx. The realization shot hot lust clean though his bones.
He couldn’t make himself look away. Not even when he fumbled over the story. He’d been wound up tight as a coil ever since last night when he’d tasted her womanly sweetness. It was a flavor he craved again and again.
She lowered her lashes and stepped away from the group. He tracked her steps, struggling not to be obvious about watching her. Where was she going?
For a whisper of a second, she stopped, cast a look at him over her shoulder, then she moved toward the church. Almost instantly the fog swallowed her up.
He had to know where she was headed, what she was up to. Quickly he finished the tale of the mournful lovers. “Feel free to explore on your own,” he said. “There are supplies for gravestone rubbings inside the bus if anyone is interested, or if you feel like walking, you can take tea at the pub we passed on the way in and browse the souvenir shop. It’s a quarter of a mile to the end of the road and you have an hour before the bus leaves.”
Without another word, he left the group standing where they were and went off after Roxie. It was stupid and he knew it, but he was compelled by a force he could neit
her control nor explain. He caught a glimpse of her dress as she disappeared behind a large headstone and the very air seemed to quiver with her spirited sexuality, beckoning him to follow.
He wove through the graveyard in hot pursuit. He was breathless but not from exertion—he was an athlete after all. Rather it was excitement that stole the oxygen from his lungs. Stark physical need was a solid hand, reaching out to grab him.
Where was she? Which way had she gone?
There. Around the back of the old church. He spied a flash of her blue dress. She’d gone inside.
The fist of excitement tightened.
He continued to trace her steps and inhaled the now-familiar scent of her honeysuckle perfume. Stepping over the threshold into the crumbling shelter, he was just in time to see her disappear through the archway leading to the main part of the church. Did she know he was following her?
The thought that she was luring him inside for a delicious and unexpected seduction sent a shock of lust to his groin. With a grin of anticipation spreading across his face, he rushed after her.
ROXIE HEARD DOUGAL’S footsteps behind her. Her heart jack-hammered at the hollow of her throat. She pressed her body flat against the stone wall of the chapel, just inside the archway. The pews stretched out ahead of her, leading to the altar. A hot, heavy feeling pushed through her lower abdomen, suffusing her sex with a persistent throb.
Hiding from him turned her on in a way she had not expected.
Dougal came barreling through the door so fast he didn’t see her standing just to the side of the entrance. He took several long-legged strides away from her, heading for the exit behind the altar.
Pulse pounding, Roxie spun away from the wall and headed back out the archway he’d just come through, her shoes echoing loudly against the stone. She had no doubt that he’d heard her. Thrilled yet oddly terrified, she ran for the spiral staircase leading to an upper level. She had no plans, no idea what she was intending. Primal instinct drove her, the feminine urge to tease and seduce.
Immediately his footsteps changed directions; he was in pursuit of her again. Her mouth went dry as adrenaline surged, sending a metallic taste spilling into her mouth.
The game was on.
Feeling wild and free and crazy, she took the steps two at a time. She had never done anything like this and she gloried in the feelings vibrating through her. She had the distinct impression that Dougal, too, was enjoying the chase.
Exhilaration burned her cheeks. A tangle of images filled her mind, all of them erotic and involving unorthodox uses of a church. She reached the top of the stairs and entered the bell tower, blood whooshing loudly in her ears.
The tower was a big open room, the bell long gone. There was nowhere to hide. That’s when she realized that the footsteps behind her had stopped.
Had Dougal given up, or had some members of the tour appeared in the church and halted the game?
She turned, walked back to the head of the stairs and cautiously peered down.
Dougal lounged on the staircase with his shoulder propped against the wall, arms folded over his chest, his eyes half-closed, an insouciant grin on his face.
She sprang back from the opening. The scrape of his shoes on the staircase sent gooseflesh up her arm. He was coming after her again and there was nowhere to run.
You started it.
Yeah, but she hadn’t given much thought to finishing it.
She stood motionless, her skin smoldering, her body a five-alarm blaze. What was he going to do to her when he got up here?
Was he as excited as she? Did he have an erection? Was chasing her driving him as crazy as hiding from him was driving her? Her breasts grew heavy with longing.
His dark head crested the top of the stairs, followed by the rest of him. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up to reveal his tanned arms roped with muscles. The foggy mist had curled his hair into ringlets at the back of his neck. He looked provocative in his costume of white shirt and black leather pants—basic, masculine, romantic. A whiff of his scent wafted over to her.
They did not speak. Roxie stood in the middle of the room, trembling with anticipation, her mind racing to guess what was going to happen next.
Then, with a noise of intense masculine desire, he crossed the room in a few strides. Roxie turned to flee, but found herself backed into a corner. She spun around to face him.
She was watching him and he was watching her. They sucked in rough, tandem gulps of oxygen.
The wrenching tug of jitters pulled her toward him at the same time it scared her deeply. She’d never felt this level of sexual arousal, this variety of achy sensitivity. Her body demanded release and he held the key.
Dougal gathered her into his arms and kissed her as if it was the last kiss he would ever receive.
The idea that they could be caught at any minute, that one of the other Eros guests could wander into the church and up the bell tower, escalated their cravings.
“We have to be quick about it,” he rasped.
“Yes, yes, quick and hard,” she agreed, barely recognizing herself but loving this new, brazen Roxie.
Dougal grasped her by the waist, turned her around. “Hands on the wall,” he commanded.
Heart thudding, she obeyed, splaying her palms against the cool stone wall, her muscles tensing in shivery expectation. Reverentially, Dougal’s hands skimmed over her body as if he loved the feel of her beneath him, as if she was a special gift he couldn’t wait to unwrap.
He squashed his chest against her back, pressed his mouth to her ears and murmured sweet nothings as his hand dipped down to the hem of her skirt and his fingers slid up her quivering thigh.
Arching her back into him, she moaned softly against his tender stroking. He kissed the nape of her neck and breathed her name on a sigh.
“Doth my stalwart knight wear protection?” she whispered.
He groaned. “No.”
Disappointment arrowed through her.
“Worry not, Lady Sarah,” he said, role-playing with her as he’d done the evening before. “Your pleasure is my command.”
Huh?
He tightened his grip around her waist and ground her bottom against his crotch. “My lady,” he whispered, “there is none as captivating as you.”
Roxie whimpered.
Dougal used his knee to spread her legs wider. He flipped the hem of her skirt up over her ass and with one swift move, pulled down her panties. He held her steady with one hand, while his other hand rubbed her cheeks, then he inched his hand lower and slipped inquisitive fingers between her legs. Playfully he swatted her fanny.
She hissed in air.
“Does that please my lady?”
She nodded, unable to speak.
Lightly he swatted her once more, the smack of his palm against her butt creating a very sexy sound in the cavernous room. The torturous pressure inside her womb twisted. How she wanted him inside her!
“Beautiful.” His fingers caressed her bare skin and there was such reverence in his touch that Roxie’s heart careened against her rib cage.
Slowly he eased one finger inside of her and her juice flowed warm and wet. He stroked the tip of his pinkie finger over her throbbing nib with just the barest hint of pressure and then gently slid back.
The velvety chafing, the considerate vigor, the excruciating rupture of awareness as his finger strummed her clit had Roxie’s head spinning dizzily. She could not take it all. Her palms, splayed against the wall, were damp with sweet stress.
He stroked her harder, faster. Again and again. His focus was amazing, the way he was touching her made her feel cherished and cared for.
And that thought worried her almost as much as it pleased her.
Each firm but gentle stroke edged her closer to insanity. Then he placed a thumb at the entrance to her bottom, lightly rimmed the outside of her ass.
What was he doing?
“Do you like for me to touch you this way, my lady?”
Roxie nodded, held her breath. Her bottom was so achy, the feel of his thumb so exquisite.
“Tell me.”
“I like it,” she whispered.
He slid a third finger inside her feminine core, filling her up. His pinkie slid over her clit, his thumb rhythmically stroking outside her eager opening.
Sir Gareth increased the tempo. The fact that at any moment her father’s henchmen could come up those stones steps and see him pressing his body against Lady Sarah’s naked ass made her hornier than ever.
“More,” she murmured. “More, more, more.”
Through the material of his pants, she could feel his rock-hard penis. Realizing how much he wanted her made her want him all the more.
His hand played her. Fingers, thumbs, faster and faster.
Inside the sexy haze, in the electricity that was her own skin, Lady Sarah squeezed her eyes closed and listened to the thumping piston that was her heart sending her blood rolling hot and thick through her veins.
His mischievous thumb edged into her. Pushing her to places she’d never been, giving her new roles to play, novel dreams to dream, fresh wings to fly.
Delight flooded her brain, pleasure blinded her, wanting lit up every cell in her body. She was lost, and she could not see or smell or hear or taste or touch.
But Sir Gareth offered the way out, his fingers giving her a joy beyond measure.
This sweet invasion was more than she could comprehend. The sensations were completely out of the realm of anything she had ever experienced. Lady Sarah was transported. Her pleasure was that intense, her passion that great.
She was gasping and crying and begging for more. She was tumbling, soaring, shuddering.
Who knew, who knew, who knew it could feel like this?
The muscles of her womb spasmed, squeezing tight, and Roxie experienced a release that transcended everything. The feeling sent her soaring, past time and place, through galaxies and universes. In great, writhing echoes of pleasure, she came and came and came.
ON THE WAY BACK TO THE RESORT, Dougal brooded. What the hell was wrong with him? He’d abandoned the tour group and just followed right after Roxie as if he didn’t have a brain. What would have happened if someone had caught them?
