by Jo Goodman
Skye sensed his hesitation. She raised her face and touched her mouth to his. Her lips moved over his mouth in the manner he had taught her. Her tongue traced the edges and slipped along his upper lip. She let his shudder pass into her and the weight of him cocooned her again. They engaged in a sweet battle where his mouth was a formidable weapon and her hands were no shield at all.
Her gown was pushed to her hips, then lower, past her thighs, her knees, until it was sliding over the edge of the bed. Her chemise gathered at her waist. Her petticoats were already a tangle about her legs, hiked up to the level of her knees. Her calves lay bare and smooth against the bedcovers. She raised one leg and wound it around his, stretching with feline grace to feel more of him against her. He groaned softly as her palms stroked his back and arms. Her fingers edged along his waistband and sometimes dipped beneath it. His skin burned where she touched him.
Walker rolled away from Skye and made short order of his clothes. He made no attempt to hide his arousal but turned toward her, unashamed by his body's response.
Skye's flush covered her entire body but it never occurred to her to look away. In truth she was fascinated, frightened, and a little awed. "Oh my," she said softly. She glanced at Walker's taut features, the creases at the corners of his eyes, the muscle working in his jaw, and asked worriedly, "Does it hurt?"
He stared at her a moment, a little amazed himself. A wicked grin slowly transformed his features as he bent over her. "More than you know," he fairly growled. Kissing her full on the mouth, his hands finished with her undergarments until they were both splendidly naked.
Skye's hands trailed to the small of his back, then over his buttocks. The texture of his skin delighted her. She kissed his shoulder and she moved lower. Her fingernail flicked his flat nipple. Her tongue aroused it. Whatever happened in this bed, she thought, was not simply being done to her. She was doing it, too. The power of it was heady.
Walker's hand traveled over the length of her thigh. The caress was insistent and a shiver of desire coursed through Skye. His mouth covered hers while his fingers teased the underside of her raised knee. He drew them across the back of the thigh, then the soft inner side. Her lips parted. Her legs parted. He touched her intimately, his fingers making a gentle exploration. She was tense now, but not resistant. When he lifted his head to watch her she drew a ragged breath.
The response of her body surprised her. She was warm and wet where he touched her. Her hands fell away from the back of his neck and curled in the covers beneath her. His hand was between her legs, but he was watching her. She couldn't look anywhere but at him, feel anything but the heat. It was growing white-hot just beneath his fingers and there was a certain way he would touch her that would make sparks skitter along the surface of her skin. She drew in her lower lip as she sipped her next breath. Sensation started to coil in her. She lifted her hips slightly, pushing with her heels against the mattress. Her fingers tightened. Her eyes fluttered closed.
He nudged her mouth, kissing her softly. "Open them for me," he said against her lips. She raised her lids. Her legs parted more. He was satisfied with both responses. "You're so beautiful," he whispered. He eased a finger inside her. She was tight but accepting. Kissing her again, thoroughly and deeply, he removed his hand. Walker changed his position, parting her thighs wider with his knees. His hands slipped under her bottom and lifted her. Her eyes had dropped away from his and she was watching their bodies now. She reached out but her arms fell away uselessly and her fingers curled into the covers again as he entered her this time.
Pain, not passion, darkened her eyes now. He held his entry and gave her time to adjust before he moved again. He leaned forward and pushed into her with a single hard thrust. She would have cried out save for the mouth that covered hers. Her body trembled beneath his. She struck at his shoulders. He quieted her with gentle words. His breath was sweet and soft against her skin. His mouth nudged her ear and he kissed the tears that spiked her lashes.
He held himself very still and denial etched lines in his face. He felt Skye relax under him, and even shift slightly to accommodate him. Her eyes were still faintly accusing.
"You hurt me," she whispered.
"I know," he said. "I'm sorry. It won't happen again."
Skye's eyes clouded. What wouldn't happen again? The pain or the pleasure? She was on the verge of asking him when he began kissing the side of her neck. Her breasts seemed to swell against his chest. He was moving in her with slow, deliberate thrusts, and her hips were rising to meet him separate of any thought she had to the contrary.
The spiral of pleasure was rising from the exact point where it had stopped. The initial rush of it was intense, and it only increased from there. The driving of his body was rhythmic, and Skye was captured by the seductive cadence, even her breathing was rising and falling in the same arc of desire.
She held his shoulders, his upper arms, then ran her hands along his torso. She held him to her. Her neck arched. He kissed the hollow of it and the underside of her chin. Her thighs pressed the sides of his buttocks. She found purchase in the mattress and pushed herself against him.
He rocked her. She cradled him. There were moments when she thought she could not bear the pleasure and others when she could not bear it to end. Sensation rose swiftly and powerfully, and at the very apex of it, she cried out. He thrust into her harder, then more rapidly, pushing himself over the same edge where he had driven her. She watched his face as pleasure twisted it, then she shared his shudder and accepted his seed.
Skye's body fell quiet slowly. Her muscles released tension by degrees and they trembled again when he eased himself out of her. She was reluctant to let him go but did nothing except let her fingers drift across his shoulder as he rolled away.
Walker turned on his side. The angle of the sun had changed and now light slanted across the edge of their bed. The curve of Skye's shoulder was caressed by it. Where it touched her hair the color looked bright enough to burn her skin. Fascinated, he wound and unwound the lock around his finger. He bent his head and kissed her on the mouth. Her lips were pliant and soft. The kiss lingered.
"Mmm," was all she said when he withdrew.
Walker smiled. Her eyelids were heavy and her full mouth had a sleepy, pouting look to it. He reached around her and pulled part of the coverlet across her thighs and midriff. Her eyes closed completely and she stirred without energy. He rolled off the far side of the bed, then wrapped the rest of the coverlet around her. The last glimpse of her breasts actually made him sigh.
Walker chuckled under his breath. The last time he'd been moved to sigh at the sight of a bosom was fifteen years ago. On that occasion he had surprised the daughter of the ambassador to China by letting the stableboy sample her not inconsiderable charms. He'd sampled them himself much later in life and had not been so impressed on his second viewing.
Walker gathered up his clothes as he rounded the bed. He washed at the basin before he dressed. His eyes kept wandering to Skye. He hardly knew a thing about her, except that she wasn't a housekeeper. She knew even less about him. For what had just taken place in his bed hadn't seemed to matter. It had never bothered Walker before. He wished it didn't now.
He picked up Skye's clothes and laid them over the back of a chair. The paper she'd been writing on before he'd come into the room fell out of her apron pocket. He couldn't believe he had forgotten about it. Walker saw it as another sign he was in too deep.
Hunkering down, he retrieved the paper. It had been folded carelessly into quarters. He opened it and stared... and whistled softly. Based on his own very limited contact with Parnell's invention, he found Skye's drawing to have a high degree of accuracy. He wondered how much she really knew about engines. Had she only drawn it from memory, or did she understand its workings? He looked over his shoulder at the bed. She was still sleeping, her back to him.
Walker absently folded the paper and stuffed it back in her pocket. He stood and rested his hip on the edge of the writing ta
ble. Which of Parnell's investors did she work for? he wondered. How many were there that he didn't know about? The kind of business arrangement Parnell had was more scam than scheme. It was no wonder he wanted a gun as quick to fire as the Colt he'd carried the other day.
Walker left the desk and went to his wardrobe. Parnell's gun was still where he had hidden it. He supposed it would be safe enough there. Tomorrow he would take it with him. Parnell and Mrs. Reading could search all they wanted, but the gun was leaving the house. He didn't relish the thought of Parnell pointing it at him again. He hadn't thought it would come to killing the inventor, but it might, if that happened. His warning hadn't been an idle one.
He stepped away from the wardrobe and shut the door carefully.
"You don't have to be so quiet," Skye said. "I'm awake." Her eyes were still closed and her voice was just a sleepy whisper, but she had made the effort to turn on her side toward him.
Walker smiled. "Go back to sleep. I'm leaving."
"Mm-hmm."
Her murmur drew him to the bed. He sat on the edge and placed a hand on her bare shoulder. His thumb stroked her skin. "I'll have dinner brought up to you. Don't worry. I'll send Annie with it."
She rolled on her back and raised her eyelids to half mast. The back of her hand touched her forehead as she brushed aside a strand of hair. "Do you have to go?" she asked.
He nodded. "I've spent too much time here already."
She surprised herself by blushing, but she welcomed the kiss she got in response. "Will the lock keep Parnell out?" she asked, when he sat up.
"This one will. There's no duplicate key for this room. Or rather, there is, but I have both." He patted his trouser pocket. "And no, you're not getting one."
Skye had no desire to be locked in, but the alternative worried her more. "Will you bring me something to read?" she asked. "I never had time to move my things in here today. Now, it seems a useless exercise. Will you get the book I took from Parnell's library?"
"The one on the Granville family?"
"Yes. I don't suppose I'm going to learn anything else about the ghost firsthand. I may as well learn something about him in his corporeal life."
Walker laughed. "You're quite serious about this ghost, aren't you?"
"Until I can prove otherwise," she said, unmoved by his amusement. "There's something to be said for entertaining all possibilities."
"I'll try to remember that," he said drily.
She raised herself on her elbows. The coverlet slid a few inches over her chest and rested on the outer curve of her breasts. "I suppose you have an explanation for how you got that knot at the back of your head?"
Walker barely heard the question. He found himself utterly fascinated that the coverlet could hover just so on Skye's breasts, rising and falling with each breath, but not sliding even a fraction of an inch lower.
Amused and disarmed by his boyish grin, Skye looked down at herself. "I wore a ballgown with a bodice like this once to the Astors'," she said, without thinking. "It was emerald satin and had more flounces on it than a dance hall girl's petticoat. Of course it had stays in it to hold it up. And I wore a corset that made it impossible to draw a breath." She pointed to the swell of her breasts and the line of the coverlet. "What's keeping this up is anyone's guess."
Skye looked up at Walker, her smile full of feigned innocence, her eyes filled with flirty guile.
He wasn't smiling in return. "Just who the hell are you?"
Chapter 9
"What do you mean?" Skye asked.
"Emerald satin ballgowns," he said. "How is it that you had one of those and ended up working for Jonathan Parnell?" He had known she wasn't a housekeeper, but he hadn't fully considered what her background might be. Somebody's mistress? No, that was something he was sure she wasn't, at least until now.
Skye didn't so much as blink. "The dress was a hand-me-down," she said. It was perfectly true. Her mother had never been of a mind to settle all her daughters in new gowns each season. The emerald one with the wicked bodice had belonged to Rennie.
"But you wore it to the Astors'," he pointed out. "Invitations there aren't given to just anyone."
"I'm not just anyone," she retorted. "This was a benefit for Jennings Memorial, and Dr. Turner and his wife insisted I accompany them." The benefit was a true enough event, but it wasn't when she had worn the emerald gown, and it hadn't been to raise money for the hospital. She couldn't even remember if she'd seen Scott and Susan Turner there. Skye was rather chagrined to realize what a facile liar she had become. "There were many people there who wouldn't have been in the Astor home otherwise. Dr. Turner managed to put almost fifty patients on the invitation list, some of them indigents from the Bowery and Paradise Square. The whole thing caused quite a fuss, but it raised money."
Walker was watching her closely. Things had a way of rolling glibly off her tongue. "I think there's a bit of the blarney about you, Mary Schyler."
More than a bit. Anyone in her family could have told him. She managed to look properly affronted, but then he was kissing her and she realized he didn't really care who she was. He just liked her. The thought warmed her. Her arms stole around his back and the coverlet finally slipped over her breasts.
It took a visible effort on Walker's part to draw away. He looked down at the fallen coverlet that she was in no hurry to raise. If not for the heat in her cheeks, he could almost accuse her of being brazen. "It would, fall now," he said, sighing.
* * *
"Everyone's talking about it," Annie said. She cleared a place on Skye's bedside table and set the dinner tray down. Matt was trying to climb onto the bed where Skye was sitting. Annie was prepared to scold him when Skye put her book aside and hauled Matt over the edge.
"He's all right," she said, pulling him into her lap. Skye was sitting crosslegged at the head of the bed, a pillow at the small of her back. She played pat-a-cake with him while she talked. "I imagine they're glad to see me go."
Annie shook her head and her mouth flattened. "That's not true at all."
Skye's glance was skeptical.
"Well, perhaps Mrs. Reading feels that way. But the twins are going to miss you, and Hank says you were good for the place. Jenny's keeping her counsel, but she's not mean-spirited. I know I'm sorry that Mr. Parnell's dismissed you."
"I can't say that I'm sorry," Skye said truthfully. "But all the same, I'm going to miss you. Have you been asked to take the position as housekeeper?"
She nodded, fiddling with the covered dishes on the tray. It wouldn't have been proper to show too much pleasure. After all, her new position had come at Skye's expense. "He spoke to me before dinner. Mrs. Reading made the announcement to the others."
"I'm happy for you," Skye said sincerely. "You'll do fine."
Annie's dour expression lightened. "Thank you. That means a lot to me. I wouldn't have this opportunity if it weren't for you."
Skye waved her gratitude aside. She rested her chin on the crown of Matthew's blond head. "You know, Annie," she said casually, "I was wondering about last night."
"Hmm?" She laid out the silverware on the tray.
"You were so prompt in responding to my cry. I don't think I expressed my appreciation."
"I don't expect any thanks," said Annie. "I didn't really do anything."
"But you came. I'm a little surprised you heard me. I wouldn't have thought I could have been heard above stairs. I hope I didn't frighten Matt."
"Oh, no," she said, shaking her head. "Matt slept through the whole thing. I probably would have, too, if I hadn't been up already. I was coming down the hall on my way to the kitchen when I heard you scream. I don't mind saying I nearly lost my heart in that moment. It came as near to jumpin' out of my chest as it ever has."
"So you were in the hall, then."
Annie's voice dropped to a whisper. "You know I can't abide those back stairs. It's all I can do to use them to get to the third floor. I've a fearful imagination when it comes to things
like ghosts."
Skye made a wry face and pointed to the book beside her. "I'm beginning to think it's the same for me." She let Matthew grab her hand and pull it back into the pat-a-cake ritual. "You must have been on your way downstairs."
Annie nodded. "I was." The corners of her mouth drooped a fraction lower. "But what makes you think so?"
"You weren't carrying anything from the kitchen."
"I could have had myself a cup of tea there," she pointed out.
"You could have," she agreed. "But I can't imagine that you'd want to sit alone downstairs when you could be back with your son."
Annie admitted it was the very thing that had gone through her mind. "You've very observant," she said. "I noticed that about you from the very first." She extended her hands to her son.
Skye gave Matt a small boost to help him reach his mother's outstretched arms. "Then you're observant as well. I suppose it's all part and parcel of being a good housekeeper."
Annie picked up Matt and rested his small squirming body on her hip. "That's true enough," she said. "And I aim to be a good one."
Once Annie and Matthew were gone, Skye pulled the dinner tray onto her lap and ate while she read. The history of the Granvilles was infinitely more interesting than any of the fare Mrs. Reading had prepared for her. It wasn't long before Skye pushed aside her meal and concentrated on the book.
The Granville family could trace its origins to an arranged marriage between Lady Jane Suffolk and Edward Granville. Something was made of Lady Jane's lineage, but little was noted about Edward Granville's birth and parentage. Skye could guess at the reasons for that. Still, it was the introduction of the Granville name, and some mention had to be made of it.
The most significant early event for the family was Edward's participation in the voyages to the New World. He sailed with Raleigh until the Queen had Raleigh beheaded and then, knowing the risks of displeasing the Queen, he accepted an appointment as commander of his own vessels. Far from displeasing the Queen, Edward Granville had distinguished himself with his service. He amassed treasure for the Queen and a small fortune for himself by raiding the coffers of Spanish galleons. As a reward he was given land in America.
