[Hope Chest 01.0] Mesmerist

by Pam McCutcheon

  Gina pulled away slightly and stared him straight in the eyes as she slipped her arms around his neck. “Well, I’m not running away now.” Suiting action to words, she deliberately moved her hips against the throbbing column between his legs until it came to rest in her cleft.

  He pressed against her, groaning with the sweet agony of it. Dear Lord, he wanted her. More, he wanted to comfort her, show her how very desirable she was, erase the memory of her careless fiancé from her mind. But . . . He pulled away. “We can’t do this.”

  “Why?” she demanded, grasping him about the hips and pulling him tight against her once more. “Because I’m not your kind? Because I’m not a ‘good’ girl like all those silly females who pant after you?”

  His robe had parted with her movement, and now there was only the thin material of her gown separating her tender flesh from his bare, aching need. How could he think with her jammed so intimately against him? “No, because you are a ‘good’ girl. How—How can I live with myself if I take your—” He broke off, unable to voice the words, despite Gina’s frankness.

  “Well, if that’s all that’s bothering you, don’t worry about it. Jerry took care of that. Now, if there are no more objections . . .”

  She slipped her hand between them to grasp him with mind-numbing firmness, turning his mind to mush, his legs to quivering traitors, and his penis to pure steel. He staggered backward away from her grasp, coming to rest against the wall with his robe gaping open, his full hard length outthrust and fully visible to Gina’s frankly admiring gaze.

  But not for long. She moved to clasp him again, cupping him with one hand and stroking his rigid length with the other, sending waves of blissful sensation through him.

  “You still want me to leave?” she asked softly.

  The shock of her determined assault had left him powerless beneath the onslaught of his senses, but the light of triumph in her eyes brought him up short. “No,” he whispered. But if she stayed, things were going to be different—he was going to take the upper hand.

  He shrugged out of his robe and reached for her nightgown. Bunching the material in both hands, he lifted it over her head and tossed it aside, revealing her naked body limned in moonlight.

  Bold Gina became suddenly shy and attempted to cover her nudity. But he drew her hands aside to drink in the heady sight of her plump breasts, womanly curves, and the dark, mysterious place between her thighs. “Don’t hide yourself from me.”

  She winced. “I’m too fat.”

  “Ridiculous. Who told you that? Jerry?”

  At her nod, he added, “That man has a lot to answer for. You’re not fat, you’re . . .” He paused, searching for just the right words. “You’re soft, ripe, lush . . . all a woman should be.” And the flush of desire on her face made her breathtakingly beautiful.

  It must have been the right thing to say, for Gina’s expression softened and she reached for him once more. Avoiding her seeking hand, he said, “No, it’s my turn.”

  Gently, he palmed her full breasts, the source of many a restless dream, and kneaded, rubbing his thumbs over the protruding tips. She moaned and his heart soared with the knowledge that he had the power to please her. He released one breast only long enough to bring his mouth down to taste it. He circled her nipple with his tongue, then drew it into his mouth, sucking gently as he continued to knead the other.

  Her clutching hands, quaking thighs, and soft moans let him know she was enjoying this as much as he. Reveling in her responsiveness, he drew her to his bed and laid her down upon it, then proceeded to lavish attention on her mouth, neck, and breasts until she was quivering with need. Only then did he gently part her thighs and, greedily inhaling the musky scent of her arousal, slip his fingers past the dark curls into the moistness awaiting him.

  Gina whimpered and spread her legs wider, reaching for him. But he avoided her grasp once more and sought the small nub that would give her pleasure. It took only a stroke or two of his slick finger to bring a cry to her lips and send her body into spasms of pleasure.

  Almost over the edge himself after experiencing her fulfillment, Drake could wait no longer. He poised himself above her, and as she opened to him in complete surrender, he plunged inside.

  She was tight, warm, welcoming, and very, very wet. Dear Lord, this must be heaven. He spared a brief moment to gauge her reaction but saw nothing but willing acceptance. Saying a short prayer of thanksgiving, he began to move within her.

  To his surprise, Gina moved with him, raising her hips to help him go deeper, more fully into her. Then pure sensation took over, driving him past thinking to a mindless frenzy. Ever stronger waves of overpowering pleasure washed through him, taking him higher and higher until he reached the pinnacle. He heard Gina’s cry of release at the same time as he spilled over the top, arching with a few shuddering, thrusting bursts of sheer joy.

  Drained, he collapsed next to her, feeling nothing but peace, repletion, and tenderness for the woman next to him. As he gazed at her face, an impulsive question left his lips. “Will you marry me?”

  Gina went rigid. “Are you nuts?” She hopped out of bed and grabbed her nightgown, yanking it on over her head.

  Bewildered and surprised, Drake slid out of bed to face her. This was the first time he’d asked for a woman’s hand in marriage, and he’d certainly expected a different reaction. Politeness, at least. Trust Gina to do the unexpected. “What’s wrong?”

  “I just barely escaped marriage with one guy. What makes you think I’d hop into it with another so soon?”

  Perhaps because he was ten times the man this Jerry seemed to be? Resorting to the familiar, Drake said, “It is customary after what we just did.” He nodded toward the bed.

  She snorted. “Not where I come from. And if that’s your only reason, it’s not good enough.”

  Just where did she come from that lacked so basic a custom? “And if a babe should result from our union?”

  “Don’t worry, it won’t,” she said as she dragged on her concealing cloak. “My Depo-Provera injection should still cover it.”

  Feeling distinctly as if they were speaking two entirely different languages, Drake said, “It wasn’t my intention to insult you. “Just the opposite, in fact. “Am I that hideous?”

  “No, of course not.” Her gaze swept his still-nude body. “Come on, you know you’re gorgeous. It’s just that . . . oh, I can’t explain.”

  “Does it have something to do with the fact that you’re trying to force me to leave the resort?”

  She swung a leg over his windowsill. “Yeah, kind of.”

  “How?”

  “I told you I’d explain after your next lecture.”

  “Why not now?”

  “Because.” And as if that were reason enough, she swung her other leg over and dropped out the window.

  Drake stuck his head out the window to try and glean more information from her, but it was too late. She was already hurrying off, waving a breezy hand in farewell.

  Bemused, Drake shut the window. He ought to be annoyed that she had so cavalierly dismissed his offer of marriage, but, strangely, he wasn’t. Grinning, all he could remember was one thing. She thinks I’m gorgeous.

  Chapter 8

  Gina didn’t want to wake the next morning, but Scruffy insisted he needed out. She pulled a cloak over her nightgown and let him out a side door, with a mental apology to the gardeners for what Scruffy planned to deposit on their pristine lawn.

  As she waited for her dog to do his thing, her thoughts turned inexorably to the events of the night before. She hadn’t gone to Drake’s room with the intention of making love. She had only wanted to thank him for standing up for her to the Major. But one thing had led to another . . . and another . . . until she had experienced one of the most memorable evenings of her life.

  For once, she had felt desirable, attractive . . . cherished. Far different from Jerry—Mr. Wham, Bam, Take it on the Lam.

  She winced. Instead,
she was the one who had taken it on the lam this time. But she couldn’t help it. She had been so overcome with conflicting emotions that she just couldn’t stick around.

  She was shocked that he had asked her to marry him, but soon figured out he had done so only because they had made love, and that’s what men did in these times after they had sex with a woman. But that wasn’t a good enough basis for a marriage. Besides, she wasn’t going to be around much longer. All she planned to do in this time was save Drake’s life, find the pistol, then go home come December 22.

  To what? a little voice asked.

  Gina ignored it. There might not be much to go home to, but it was home . . . and that’s where she belonged. She certainly didn’t belong over a hundred years back in the past.

  Scruffy finished his business, and she hurried him back to their room, hoping to get a bit more sleep before she had to get dressed. But it was not to be. No sooner had she crawled back in bed than the insistent little bell-ringer in the hall reminded her she had a muster to make.

  She got up reluctantly and eyed her uniform with a baleful expression. Since she had been “promoted,” the Major had decreed that she must now wear the white blouse and navy blue skirt that comprised the waitress uniform instead of her usual gray maid’s uniform. He had intended it to be some kind of weird honor, but she didn’t see it that way. The blue uniform was heavier, hotter, and it had one of those dratted bustles.

  Somehow, she struggled into the outfit and made the muster on time. There, Esme told her to meet Drake in Dr. Ziegler’s office. After feeding Scruffy, she decided to take him with her for moral support.

  When she caught sight of Drake outside Dr. Ziegler’s office, she faltered. He looked really good, all broad-shouldered and darkly handsome like that. It reminded her of the things they had done together the previous night

  So, what the heck did you say to a starched-up gentleman who had just done the nasty with you the night before?

  “Good—good morning,” she stammered.

  Okay, so it wasn’t brilliant but it was civil.

  One corner of his mouth turned up as he returned her greeting. A warning growl from the other side of the room caught her attention and she turned to see both matchmaking mamas, their daughters, and the Major standing there, confronting her with varying degrees of disapproval in their expressions. Good grief, how had she missed seeing them?

  She wouldn’t have been surprised to find the growl had emanated from Mrs. Biddle, but the lazy Peke in her arms had directed the commentary at Scruffy. Scruffy returned the favor, but quickly hushed on Gina’s command. Thank heavens. She was in enough trouble already without adding a dogfight to the rest.

  Mrs. Biddle sniffed and spoke to a point above Gina’s head. “I must say I do not approve of this arrangement. However, since Major Payne feels it is fair, I must acquiesce.” She turned a simpering look on the man in question.

  “I disagree,” Mrs. Harrington put in. “I believe I shall stay. I don’t want to leave my sweet Chloe prey to such wicked influence.”

  Gina bristled. Wicked influence? I’ll show her wicked. She immediately resolved to corrupt the two girls. But before she could come up with something suitably shocking, Drake cleared his throat and gave the Major a penetrating glare.

  The Major must have interpreted this look correctly, for he said, “No, that wasn’t the plan. The agreement was that the young ladies will chaperone each other. Too many cooks spoil the broth, you know,” he said with uneasy heartiness.

  Birdie Biddle sniffed again, patting the still-growling Princess. “Then perhaps only one young lady should chaperone Mr. Manton and that . . . that . . . young woman,” she said derisively. She pushed her daughter forward. “My dear little Letty is perfect for the job. She’s pretty, bright, decorous . . . and she just adores listening to Mr. Manton lecture. Don’t you, dear?”

  As Letty turned bright red, Mrs. Harrington turned purple, spluttering incoherently.

  Gina watched the varying facial colors with interest, but Drake apparently decided to rescue them both before it turned ugly. “I’m quite certain Miss Biddle is an exemplary young woman.” Then, before Mrs. Harrington could explode, he added, “As is Miss Harrington. However, I believe the original arrangement is best. And now, if you ladies would leave us to it?” He gestured toward the exit in unmistakable dismissal.

  The Major made his escape at a brisk march, and the two older women had no choice but to follow him. However, Mrs. Biddle wasn’t content to leave it at that. Before she left, she muttered fiercely into her daughter’s ear, casting fulminating glances at Gina as she did so.

  Once the mothers were gone, the rest heaved a collective sigh of relief.

  “I—I’m sorry,” Letty stammered, her face still bright pink as her gaze skittered toward Drake and away again. “Mama means well, but she thinks that I should— But I don’t— And I really don’t mean to—”

  Since Letty seemed incapable of finishing a sentence, Gina decided to interpret for her. Turning to Drake, she said with frank honesty, “What Letty is trying to say is that her mama is trying to push you two together, but Letty isn’t interested in marrying you.”

  Drake gave her a chiding glance but Gina shrugged. She was all for plain speaking. How people in this time communicated with all their hedging about the truth, she didn’t know. “Isn’t that right, Letty?”

  Letty nodded. “I have a— That is, there’s a boy—”

  “Ah, so you are in love with someone else?”

  Letty nodded, blushing even deeper. Gina suspected there was a mystery here, and that Mama probably didn’t approve of Letty’s choice—if she even knew of it—but she didn’t feel like second-guessing any more of Letty’s half sentences. Besides, the girl had been embarrassed enough for one day.

  But Chloe hadn’t. “How about you, Chloe? Do you want to marry Mr. Manton?”

  Chloe giggled. “No, that’s Mama’s idea. I don’t want to marry anyone—I plan to be a famous writer and hold elegant soirees that will be the envy of the literary set.”

  Ignoring the last part of Chloe’s burst of confidence, Gina said, “Good. That makes three of us. Now that we know none of us want to marry Mr. Manton, we can relax and get on with helping him with his lectures.”

  Chloe and Letty giggled nervously, but Drake merely looked amused. Raising one eyebrow, he said, “You didn’t ask me if I want to marry one of you.”

  And I’m not going to, either. She cast him a warning glance, trying to remind him silently that they were chaperoned and this wasn’t the time or place to broach the subject again.

  Chloe giggled. “Do you?”

  Gina held her breath. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t. Would he?

  Drake allowed himself a small smile at the expression on Gina’s face. She was terrified he was about to say something inappropriate, but that was her bailiwick, not his. “Of course I would,” he said, and enjoyed Gina’s expression of panic. “I’m sure any one of you young ladies would make a wonderful wife.”

  All three relaxed, and Chloe giggled. “Don’t let Mama hear you say that.”

  Gina shot him an exasperated glance, but he was unrepentant. He might have been disgruntled when she turned down his offer of marriage, but he had no intention of hounding her. He wasn’t in the habit of forcing himself on any woman.

  However, he was a bit annoyed. In Boston, he was considered quite the matrimonial prize. To have this slip of a girl turn him down without so much as a by-your-leave or thank-you-kindly-sir was a bit lowering.

  And though she was quite right in that he had done so primarily because he’d compromised her virtue, he felt oddly disappointed in her refusal. Life would never be dull around Gina, and a man could spend a lifetime plumbing her mysteries without getting bored.

  But the fact that she was so vehement in refusing him gave him an idea. He smiled to himself. There was very little that seemed to discommode the saucy chit as much as a simple proposal had. He’d just have to
find a way to use it to his advantage.

  “Well,” Gina said. “Let’s get started, shall we?” She glanced around. “But it’s a bit crowded in here.”

  Drake smiled inwardly. Most women he knew would simper or hang on him after a night of passion. Instead, the ever-surprising Gina wanted to put him to work.

  He removed a key from his pocket. “I took the liberty of acquiring the key to the small theater from the Major since no one uses it this time of day. Shall we?”

  “Good idea,” Gina said enthusiastically.

  They all trooped toward the theater, Scruffy in tow, and Drake began to wonder what he had gotten himself into. He’d only wanted to help Gina retain her position, and now he was stuck with a parade of women and a small dog . . . all intent on “helping” him with his lectures. Unfortunately, he couldn’t back out now without making the Major wonder about his motives and jeopardizing Gina’s position.

  When they reached the theater, Gina positioned them as efficiently as a general deploying troops. She had Drake gather chairs to place on the stage and directed the girls to sit there instead of taking their place in the audience as they preferred. Uneasily, the girls obeyed Gina’s orders.

  Placing one chair at center stage, she beckoned to Drake and said, “I’ve been thinking about your lecture. The primary problem is that you do too much telling. The audience won’t be convinced unless you show them that mesmerism works. So, the first thing I need to know is how you go about mesmerizing someone. And who better than a pretty young girl?”

  Drake grinned. “I would be more than happy to demonstrate my methods on you.”

  “Nice try,” Gina said with an answering grin. “But I wasn’t talking about myself. We have two potential subjects right here.”

  She turned toward Letty and Chloe, who averted their gazes. Chloe giggled nervously, and Letty turned bright red, muttering, “I don’t think— That is, Mama would never—”