A short, slim woman greeted Penelope with a bright saucy smile, her gaze drifting briefly to Ramsey afore she escorted Penelope beyond a set of doors. Ramsey followed on her heels til the seamstress gave him a quelling, very territorial look, fairly shoving Penelope's box into his hands, her meaningful gaze directing him into another room.
A dull red crept up his neck. Though he'd rather not have Penelope from his sight, he did as she bade, yet not afore he caught Penelope's scarcely masked smile.
Ducking to the room, his discomfort heightened, for surrounding him was a man's imagination in feminine frippery. Puffed and ribboned curtains graced the tall windows, lacy sheers moving with the conditioned breeze. Delicate glass
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shelves bearing porcelain creatures of the forest variety flanked the doorway, and his every step shook the cabinetry and he nearly tripped on the thick pile rug in his effort to tred lightly. Catching himself afore he went crashing like a boar into furnishings. Ram hastily took a seat on a small settee, the daintily carved wood creaking with his weight, his knees banging the low polished table. He set the balsa aside and rested his hands on his thighs.
Across the room from him, the joint of two walls were covered with mirrors, magnifying his conspicuousness, and as carefully as he could manage, he braced his ankle across his knee and sat back. He shifted uncomfortably, feeling like a clumsy giant and was about to do his waiting outside when a petite girl of about nine and ten entered the sanctuary to offer him coffee or a soda. The latter he accepted, his ears tuned to the murmur of voices. She was back there, he realized, down the dimly lit hall that held some mystical place where women dominated and men never dared.
"Go on out and see what you think of this one," he heard afore Penelope appeared in the archway, her hair swept off her neck.
The air left his lungs and he straightened in the seat. Only in his dreams has he envisioned her like this. Why would she dress in such a manner? Certainly not to please him.
Penny stepped onto the pedestal, fluffing the dress out around her, concentrating on the gold creation in the mirror and not the man behind her. Rooms always felt smaller with him around, and she busily tucked and shifted the heavy gown, wondering why he was looking at her so oddly. Then she understood. And her gaze jerked back to the mirror, the dress.
It was a style from his time. His century. *
The neckline plunged deeply, accenting her tightly laced ribs and waist, the sleeves snug, fountaining in long funnels at her elbow. It was lovely, a mist of gold chiffon laying over the heavy gold brocade and the entire mess was heavier than her sofa. It was a costume from her last film, one of several shipped by the studio for her selection and as much as she did not want to attend the premier and the party, it was an obligation in her
contract. A costume ball, with tons of celebrities, reporters, and hype, and hourly she cursed Tony for not deleting the clause from her contract. He'd done it deliberately, she suspected.
Before she could catch Ramsey's gaze in the mirror, the dressmaker entered the room, tape measure slung around her neck.
"How's it feel?" Claire said.
"Like I'm wearing a pontoon boat, but fine."
"Well something's wrong." The dressmaker's professional eye judged her reflection.
" 'Tis the wrong shade," Ram's deep voice cut in and Penny's gaze jerked to his in the silver glass.
"But I wore this before, in the movie."
"Regardless," Ram said, slumping lazily in the chair, his legs stretched beneath the table. " 'Tis nearly the same shade as your skin."
"That's it," Claire gasped. "Your tan makes you look . .. washed-out.'' Her words slowed as she sent Ramsey a quizzical glance, her brows drawn.
"Good, let's try another, lighter one."
"You know the way." Claire indicated the dressing room and Penelope immediately marched off only to return moments later in a deep pink creation. She was fairly bursting out of the bodice, the neckline cutting just above her nipples.
Ramsey admired the spilling bosom long enough to be noticed by both women, then in a light voice said,' Too garish. You look more the courtesan, than the lady."
"And you'd know the difference," she challenged tartly and he favored her with a rascally grin.
"I've an education on the subject," he said with a hint of pure masculine arrogance and she rolled her eyes. "And 'tis unnecessary, those ribbons and flowers," he added distastefully waving at the profusion spilling over the panniers.
"Without being on the movie set, it does look a little overdone," Penny agreed after a glance in the mirror and Claire joined her on the pedestal.
"I could remove them," she said, then checked the stitching, lowering her voice. "All right, who is he?"
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"My friend and," her gaze met his in the glass—"bodyguard."
"You ought to be guarding him," Claire murmured. "He's incredibly fascinating."
"He does have a way about him," Penny said, not at all pleased Claire, the viper, was interested. "Mind if I—"
"Yes I do," Penny cut in quickly and Claire laughed, soft and knowing.
"I was just kidding," Claire said as they stepped into the privacy of the dressing room. "No one could get past the way he looks at you." Penny stared at her seamstress. "Good God, Penny, you can't be that blind. He looks like he wants to eat you alive." Penny cast a furtive glance down the hall, then turned her back to Claire so she could help her out of the monstrosity.
She returned wearing another gown, this one of deep claret. " Tis the same shade as your hair," he commented and she sighed, dispirited.
"My hair was powdered in the movie and no—" she shot Claire a defiant look—"I will not attend looking like a frosted strawberry." Gathering up the folds of fabric nearly to her knees, Penny huffed into the dressing room and Ramsey noticed she was perspiring, her upswept hair sagging to one side.
With the next gown, she didn't bother to step onto the pedestal and simply stood beneath the archway, awaiting his comment, then at the shake of his head, she blew a wisp of hair off her forehead and trotted off with all the elegance of a docks ide barmaid.
She returned in yet another, in deep forest-green. "This is the last one," she reminded and without taking his gaze from hers he tipped the lid to the box she'd given him and drew out the dress.
"Where did that come from?" Claire rushed to see. "It—ah ... was a gift from an old friend. Be careful, Claire. It's not a copy."
Claire gasped, carefully shaking out the dress. "It's magnifi-cient! Oh and look at this." She lifted out the corset and
petticoats of deep blue, inspecting the lacings, ribbon work, and hand stitching. "It's in excellent condition. What gives?" When no comment was forthcoming she looked up and found her customer and her bodyguard staring at each other in a way that made her feel like an intruder.
Ram didn't turn his gaze away as he said, "Preserved like any antique," his lips curved—"with a bit of tender care."
Penny laughed, more to herself, and Claire didn't even bother to figure that one out.
' 'Well, the seams will have to be reinforced, but the fabric will hold up," Like they were listening, she thought as her shop bell chimed. "Susan will get it." A timid voice called out and Claire frowned, then just as quickly her features smoothed taut. "Shoot, she's on break," she apologized.
"Go, Claire, I can manage."
Claire's gaze moved between the couple as she laid the gown aside and left, smiling and wondering if she'd find them rolling on the floor when she came back. God, the steam those two created was enough to melt wax!
Once Claire was gone Ramsey left the settee to stand before Penny. His gaze roamed her face, his hand coming up to brush the damp tendrils at her forehead.
Her breathing quickened.
"Thanks fo
r your help. I suppose you are the expert." She plucked at the skirts. "Would I be accepted, like this ... in your time, I mean."
Ramsey felt her emotions laying on the edge of her words. The woman had no consciousness of her beauty. "I do not doubt you'd bring your suitors to their knees, begging favor."
She laughed uncomfortably . "I don't think I'd go quite that far."
"I would." He took a step closer, smothering the air around her.
She swallowed, overwhelmed. "I suppose I should see if that fits." She gestured sluggishly to the gown.
' 'Allow me." He motioned for her to turn around and pinched the zipper slide. " 'Twould have made my life simpler then," he said, chuckling, pulling it slowly down. Penny's flesh jumped
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to life, his seductive tone smoothing over her skin like warm oil. "By God 'tis an erotic sound."
"Ramsey," she glanced covertly at the door. "We—you shouldn't be, you know, helping me."
She was in full view of the wall of mirrors, her gaze caught in his. ' 'I have seen you lain bare and brazen as you will ever be, love." She closed her eyes, briefly, remembering the way he made love to her last, in the shower; the water and heat and his slick warm skin sliding against hers.
Dizzily she opened her eyes and found him staring at her, a sensuous promise darkening his eyes. Slowly he peeled the dress off her shoulders, his breath fanning the skin there and Penny experienced a tense rush from his nearness and for an instant sagged back against him. He held her, her back to his front, and in the mirror she watched his hands briefly frame her waist, his fingers tugging at tapes and a confusion of ribbons as his head descended. He dropped moist grinding kisses up the length of her neck, then nuzzled the skin behind her ear. "I have missed the scent of you," he whispered and a tiny moan worked in her throat. His hands rode lower, shaping her hips, pushing the gown down, then he lifted her out of the pile of gown, panniers, and petticoats, setting her to her feet.
His hands remained on her waist, thumbs smoothing the silk fabric. Cognac-brown eyes prowled slowly over her from head to slippers; her garments authentic down to the tiny bows on her garters. As his gaze climbed, Ramsey wished they were truly alone, for he wanted to take his time removing them and adoring the treasures beneath.
"Don't even think it." His gaze flew to hers, the heat of it singing through her veins.
"You can read minds?" *
"More like signs." Her gaze lowered to his trousers, the bulge hinting beneath the fabric.
He flashed her an easy grin. "My state of unease is your blame," he said, then afore she could protest, deftly unfastened the modern hooks of her corset, stripping her of the stays, then quickly lacing her into the other.
"My my. You are rather skilled at this," she tossed back
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over her shoulder as he threaded the lacings and gave them a
tug. He met her stare in the mirror. "Would you have me lie?"
Her expression withered. "No, the truth is bad enough." He stilled, frowning. "What has gone afore matters not,
Penelope."
"You're expecting me to trust that answer?" He forced her to face him. "As you have trusted me?" he hissed, the festering wounds atween them swelling, and she remained silent, mutinous. " 'Twas it not you who asked me to leave your life?" The shame of it still stung, the evidence of wounds inflicted lingering in his eyes. "Was it not you who saw a freak of nature in the same man you let love your body a night afore?"
Regret and misery swept her. "I'm so ... sorry." Her voice threatened to break and he smoothed his hands down her bare arms. "I was terribly confused—"
"I know—"
"And scared."
"I know—"
"There isn't any excuse for treating you the way I did."
His shoulders sagged and he pressed his lip to her forehead and murmured,' 'How can you trust me with your life, Penelope, and not your heart?''
She looked up sharply and he saw the haunting question in her green eyes.
"Ask me aught and I will tell you gladly." Urgently, pleading.
After a few false starts, Penny moistened her lips, her eyes glossing with sudden tears.' 'Did you really love her, Ramsey?'' came in a fragile whisper. "Do you still?"
"Nay."
Her trapped breath breezed past her lips and the simple gesture nearly gutted him. How could she not know how he felt about her? He tipped her chin, gazing into her eyes and hoping she trusted what she was in his. "I thought 'twas love, for 'twas as I wished, yet Tess knew me upon first greeting, aware I sought a bit of excitement and not a lifetime.''
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Although her stiff posture softened, her gaze held a full measure of doubt. "Did Dane know how you felt?"
"Aye. Threatened to run me through if I did not leave off." His look was sheepish. "He was on a dire quest for vengeance that would see him dead if she'd not come into his life then. And her odd ways, her candid manner, 'twas what he needed to bring him back to his mates and kin.'' His smile was reminiscent. "I dare say Tess humbled him, and so us all, with her plain speech and absolute defiance of the rules."
"Sounds like my bud." Penny smiled. "I bet Dane had a fit."
" 'Twas a fit he reveled in. He was ready to love and be loved, Penelope. 'Twas his time." A pause and then, "And I knew 'twas naught but her saucy ways that attracted me."
"She had a few things to say about you, too."
He made a pained sound, half laugh, half moan. "Splendid. My reputation is in tatters for a bit of flirting."
"Flirting, my ass."
He quirked a brow, a grin tugging. "Tess does not have a flicker of the cheeky impertinence you possess."
"We are very different women." Green eyes dared him to compare.
He wouldn't dream of it, but couldn't resist saying, "Well ... I'd kissed her once—" His head, his lush mouth, drew closer—"and 'twas nary a scrap of what we share." She jerked back, a tapered red brow lifting. "And that is?" His arm snaked around her waist and he pulled her tightly against him. "Passion enough to swipe that icy look from your face," he murmured into her mouth afore his lips covered hers, his muscled arms crushing her to his long frame, and lifting her off the floor. Her response was unchained, hot and bold with her need and he drank, thirsted, kissing her with the love fighting its way out of his chest. His broad hands swept down her spine, memorizing her hips and buttocks and she clung to him, her tongue sinking into his mouth and her fingers sinking into his hair, holding him for her possession. Ramsey feared he'd see his own heart broken if he did not make this woman his, forever.
He loved her and it tore at his heart that.she might never return it.
"Oh! Excuse me," a voice said and Penny jerked back, her skin reddening. But Ramsey was not the least bit ashamed and slowly let her feet touch the floor. He felt her struggle against his hold and released her, stepping back. His gaze never left her, even as she murmured something about trying on the antique for size and swept up the overflowing box, nearly running beneath the archway.
"Guarding that body real well, aren't you?" Claire murmured with a quick glance at the man, then followed Penelope.
Penny was feeling dizzy by the lime she strapped on the harnesses and petticoats. She experienced an odd sensation as Claire fitted the gown about her, a chill running [he length of her spine and legs. Ramsey residual, she thought with a private smile.
"Step into the slippers. He has to get the whole effect." Claire carefully laced up the dress.
"I'm not doing this for him."
"Right. After that kiss? Girl, I'm surprised my fabrics didn't ignite."
Penny laughed at that, her body threading with fresh desire. Volcanic eruption was more like it, and she avoided his gaze, composing herself as she stepped beneath the archway and up onto the pedestal. Yet as Claire fluffed the dress out and adj
usted the tight bodice, Penny couldn't resist seeing his reaction. She lifted her gaze, meeting those dark brown eyes in the silver reflection, feeling them like the warm stroke of his fingers as they lingered over her bare shoulders, her waist, trailing down the curve of her spine to the length of deep-blue fabric fountain-ing behind her.
"Face me, love." Whispered words carried across the room and Claire's gaze shot between the two as Penny turned.
"Tess has great taste, huh?"
" 'Tis the woman within who has given the fabrics their appeal." His voice bore a schoolboy's raspiness, for to see her so elegantly clad, in the garments of his time, robbed him of air.
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Every inch of the deep-blue gown enhanced her beauty, bringing her natural vibrance to the surface. The bodice fit as if fashioned for her; off the shoulder and deeply heart shaped, the neckline plunging atween her breasts, yet revealing only the fullness of her figure against the beaded edge. Tiny crystals were scattered 'cross the creation as if dusted by morning dew, yet more of her smooth shoulders and arms were exposed than 'twas proper, he thought possessively, the funnel sleeve at her elbow a whisper of watered silk. The pannier was slimmed down, the fabric about the pointed waist smoothly draped instead of puffed and nipped. She looked regal, yet bewitchingly exotic and he left his seat, striding toward her, offering his hand. She accepted it, stepping down to meet him.
The look of awe on his face left her breathless, dreamy.
"Ramsey?"
"God almighty, Penn." His fathomless gaze swept her hotly. "Who must I duel to keep from showing another man what my eyes behold?"
Something bright and warm sang through her blood just then. "Well," she said carefully, briefly biting her lip. "You could join me."
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