Squinting through the predawn light, he noticed a second figure moving beside the first. Smaller. Tiny, in fact. A child? Intrigued, Elliot quietly lifted the window, watching the odd pair draw closer. Suddenly, the smaller figure bolted forward.
"Hickory, you come back here!” a frantic, hushed voice called after the running figure.
Natalie's voice, he realized with a jolt. Natalie and Hickory ... walking the streets before daylight when everyone else was abed. Why on earth? He shook his head in bemusement. They certainly were an odd bunch.
He watched their progress, straining to get a good glimpse of Natalie now that she wasn't wearing that god-awful disguise. It was no use; the moonlight wasn't sufficient. Hesitating, he waited until they had passed his window. Curiosity ate at him.
He shouldn't...
But he was going to. He scrambled into his clothes and made his way silently to the street below, knowing he wouldn't sleep until he found out what was going on.
* * * *
Shock thrummed to her toes as Natalie eyed the knurled old tree Hickory had used to make his way down from his second story bedroom. She glanced at the open window, then to the branch a scant foot away. A long, shaky looking branch...
"Hickory, tell me you didn't really climb down from way up there.” Dismayed, she glowered at the small boy. “You could have fallen."
Undaunted as usual, Hickory nodded proudly. “Na. I done it before. Watch me!” Agile as a monkey, he scampered onto a low branch and quickly climbed the tree. When he reached the shaky limb leading to his window, Natalie about swooned.
"Wait!” she whispered fiercely. “Don't move a muscle until I get there.” Trembling at the thought, she quickly shed the cumbersome dressing gown and hiked her long cotton nightgown up to her knees, tying it securely. If Hickory started to fall crossing that limb, then maybe she could grab him in time. She shuddered at the thought of Marla finding out about this latest escapade.
Marla wouldn't be too pleased with her participation, either, she added gloomily. Taking a deep breath, she began to climb the tree, reminding herself that it hadn't been so very long ago when she'd been a tree-climbing child herself.
Within moments, she reached him. “Now you can go ahead,” she whispered. She held her breath as Hickory crawled along the limb to his window. Only when he was safely over the ledge did she breathe a sigh of relief.
Now for the climb down. Trying not to think about how far away the ground seemed, Natalie began descending. She'd made it about halfway when Hickory's loud whisper made her pause.
"Natty!"
"Shhh! Are you trying to wake your ma and pa?"
"No. I was just gonna tell you goodnight, Natty."
She searched the branch below with her foot, found it, and balanced herself. She prayed desperately that Hickory wouldn't remember the ‘hug’ he always demanded. “Goodnight, Hickory."
"Goodnight, Natty. Goodnight, Mr. ‘Gomry."
She heard the window slam shut just seconds before his words sank in. Goodnight Mr. ‘Gomry? As in, Mr. Montgomery? Frozen, Natalie closed her eyes and prayed that Hickory only teased her. Elliot Montgomery was not standing below, watching her climb down from a tree in the middle of the night. In her night clothes!
"Goodnight Hickory."
The sound of Elliot's quiet reply startled a shriek from her throat. Her foot slipped from the limb. Her fingers slipped from their strangle-hold on the tree. She clawed at the wood in desperation, but to no avail.
She began to fall.
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CHAPTER FOUR
She landed in his arms, but the momentum carried them both to the ground in a tangle of limbs, wildly curling hair, and what seemed like yards of cotton nightgown.
"Ooouf!” Elliot exclaimed, trying to take the brunt of the fall. The possibility of this little warrior coming to harm alarmed him more than it should. “Are you okay?"
Breathlessly, she struggled to sitting position, prudently raking her nightgown over her bare legs. “I'm okay—are you all right? Did I hurt you?"
Her anxious voice pleased him for some reason he couldn't fathom. “No, you're light as a feather.” He tightened his arms around her, inhaling the fresh clean scent of her hair before leaning back. He wanted a better look at Natalie Polk.
By the light of the moon, his gaze soaked in the sight of the angel in his arms. He smiled at his thoughts; she did indeed look like an angel with her long, wild hair cascading around her face and shoulders, dressed in a long, flowing white nightrail. He couldn't be sure, but in the moonlight, the color of her hair appeared to be a pale gold—perhaps the color of summer wheat. And now that she had discarded the bulky baggage she'd used for her disguise, he was extremely conscious of her slim form molded against his thighs and outlined by his hands at her waist. Yes, her body now matched the small, oval-shaped face watching him, he decided. The dimensions now so plainly apparent made his groin tighten in response.
Oh, and he couldn't forget her perky little bottom, which at the moment was pressed warmly against a very sensitive area of his body, an area rapidly changing. Through the thin nightgown, he could feel each contour, every quiver, imagine how close her womanhood was to his—
"Can you stand?” he asked abruptly, cursing the huskiness in his voice and hoping she wouldn't guess the cause.
As if suddenly noticing their intimate position, Natalie gasped and leaped from his lap. She arranged her gown again and extended a hand to help him to his feet. “I'm—I'm so sorry! When I heard your voice, it startled me and I lost my balance."
Elliot kept hold of her hand and slowly drew her closer, enchanted by the vision before him. She looked so wild and sensuous. He felt magic vibrate in the air between them, praying she felt it too. How could she not?
To confirm his hopes, she pressed a hand to her cheek, as if to feel the heat of her skin. She seemed agitated, and he felt her hand tremble in his.
He understood entirely. His body trembled inside, and his blood felt thick in his veins. Mesmerized by her parted lips, he drew her closer still and lowered his mouth. The gentleman in him was outraged by his impulsive action; the man in him urged him shamelessly on.
Her hands came up to hold his shoulders and Elliot felt his chest expand at her tentative touch. She didn't resist him, but leaned forward as if to meet his mouth. Could she possibly be as eager as he for this wonderful contact?
He touched her mouth lightly with his lips, pausing to slip his hands to her slender waist and draw her gently closer. Not too much too soon, he cautioned himself. She was an innocent, an angel, a breathtakingly lovely woman in the moonlight.
Feeling heady with desire, Elliot tasted her lips and tenderly coaxed them open. He slipped his tongue inside, inhaling her spontaneous moan.
Still, she didn't resist.
He held her tightly now, tracing the curve of her waist, sweeping his hands upward to test the swell of her breasts, all the while deepening the kiss by slow degrees. He didn't want to shock her ... didn't want to startle her. He wanted the kiss to go on forever. Natalie Polk ... little orphan ... felt so right in his arms.
She tasted sweet and hot, and when her questing little tongue brushed against his, he groaned, his control slipping.
He pulled her lower body flush against his so there would be no mistaking his hardened arousal. For a delicious moment, he could feel her heat against him. But his loss of control was his downfall. With a gasp of shock, she pulled away and turned her back to him, lifting her hands to cover her face.
Elliot breathed heavily, watching her try to regain control.
"The moonlight,” she whispered.
"Causes madness,” he concluded softly. He understood that she was attempting to explain her behavior. The realization made him want to drag her back into his arms and make her believe in magic instead of madness, but he had no right.
Not only was he affianced, he was also penniless. He had nothing to offer someone like Natalie, s
omeone who had never had the finer things in life.
She deserved better.
"I shouldn't have—"
"I didn't—” He sighed in frustration and turned her around, staring into her huge, shocked eyes. Remorse sliced through him like a saber. “You did nothing wrong, Natalie. It was my fault—place the blame on me. I shouldn't have taken advantage of you after the fall. You were knocked silly.” He was giving her the perfect out.
"Silly,” she repeated faintly. Suddenly her voice grew stronger. She nodded, causing a riotous mass of curls to swirl around her shoulders.
Elliot had to physically resist the urge to reach out and grasp a fistful, bring it to his nose.
"Yes, I was knocked silly, dazed by the fall. I—I wasn't myself. You—you have a fiancee."
"Yes,” he agreed, unable to hide the bitterness in his voice. When she frowned, he ran a hand through his own hair to keep from touching hers. If he didn't have a fiancee, and if he wasn't a pauper, he wouldn't be apologizing for his actions. “Shall we start over?"
She shivered, but nodded, rubbing her arms in the sudden chill. “Forget it ever happened,” she whispered so softly he nearly missed her words.
Mourning the loss of the heat that had kept them warm moments before, Elliot retrieved her dressing gown hanging from a lower limb and helped her into it. His hands hovered around the buttons right below the neckline, then abruptly fell away. Too tempting.
Forget it ever happened? He didn't think that was a possibility, and he hated to think she would be able to forget such a magical moment, either. Pretend it never happened? Maybe.
Forget? Never.
* * * *
"I'll walk you home."
Home. Still lightheaded from the kiss, Natalie fell into step beside him, thankful for the reminder. Ivy House was home, and this is what she needed to concentrate on. Saving it, saving the children, saving herself.
How could she have lost her head that way? How was she ever to convince Elliot how reliable and mature she was after tonight? And not just the incident with Hickory, but falling into his arms afterward.
She shuddered and drew the neck of her dressing gown together with her hand. What was he thinking about her this very moment? Only women of questionable morals participated in intimacies before marriage. Yes, they'd only kissed.... and touched, but she wasn't altogether certain it was right.
Natalie blinked at sudden tears. She'd been told by Mrs. Boone that her own mother had been a loose woman, although Marla had later argued with the housemother's story. Who was right and who was wrong? she wondered.
They came to the end of the lane and headed down Main Street. Elliot casually took her hand and when she glanced sharply at him in question, he said gruffly, “For safety."
She started to assure him that Chattanooga was a safe town, but refrained. She liked the comforting feel of her hand in his, despite the alarming tingles it caused. Her mother had supposedly been seduced by a ‘scoundrel'. Could Elliot possibly be from the same mold? No, no, she thought, shaking her head. He had apologized for his behavior, and was the perfect gentleman now.
They passed houses that were dark and silent, and as they reached the town common, businesses closed up tight for the night. It was dark, but the moonlight continued to light their way along the street. Natalie didn't think she would ever think of moonlight in the same, absent way again. The moonlight would remind her of her first kiss ... with Elliot Montgomery.
"Would you mind telling me about tonight? With Hickory?” He kept his voice low, and the timbre of it made her tremble in reaction.
How could the simple sound of a man's voice cause such an eager reaction? Not just any voice ... Elliot Montgomery's voice. She steadfastly ignored the slight squeeze he gave her hand. She especially ignored the way her heart leaped in response. “Marla and Noah adopted Hickory from Ivy House last year,” she began quietly. “He hasn't adjusted well, and then with the new baby coming, he's grown even more insecure."
"That's understandable."
"He keeps running away and returning to Ivy House. I raised him from a tiny baby—"
"Where was Mrs. Boone?” he interrupted sharply.
Natalie kept her eyes on the road, and kept her voice neutral. No matter what her personal opinion of the housemother, she didn't believe in maligning a person who couldn't defend themselves. “Mrs. Boone had her hands full with the other children, and I—” she shrugged, “—took over caring for him."
"A noble thing for a fourteen-year-old to do."
Flushing with pleasure at his compliment, she said, “He was a beautiful baby, sweet and lovable. It wasn't difficult to get attached to him."
"And he to you,” came his deep reply. “I can understand."
Although his words sent weakness to her knees, Natalie strove to ignore his remark. “I think I fancied myself as his big sister, and he fancied me as his mother. Marla tries to be patient, but it hurts her feelings when he comes home—back to Ivy House."
"Poor Marla.” He sounded sincere. “And poor little Hickory. He must be confused. So that's what happened tonight? He came to you?"
She let out a soft laugh and blurted out before she could consider how provocative her statement might sound, “He slipped into my bed and planted his cold feet on my knees!"
Elliot stopped in the middle of the road. Since he held her hand, she had no choice but to stop with him. She waited expectantly, tense to the bone. What had she said to cause that frown?
"How did he get into the house?” he demanded. “Don't tell me that you don't bolt the door at night?"
"I have no choice. In March when there was still snow on the ground, I found him asleep on the porch. He was nearly frozen to death. I decided then and there that it was worth the risk.” She pulled at his hand and continued walking. Reluctantly, he followed. “I think you'll find Chattanooga a peaceful town, Mr. Montgomery."
"Elliot. After what we shared—"
"Which is forgotten, remember?” When he continued to frown at her, she relented, secretly pleased. She already thought of him as Elliot in her mind. “Oh, all right, Elliot, then. Although I don't know what people will think—"
"They'll think we're friends. We are friends, aren't we?” he asked softly, lifting her hand to his lips. His eyelids drooped as he gave her a slow, thorough look that made her feel warm all over. His look said he'd like to be more than just friends.
She drew in a sharp breath. “Don't...” Desperately, she scrambled for something to distract him. “Suetta—"
"Ah, yes, Suetta,” he said harshly. “The woman my grandfather picked out for me."
"Regardless of the reason, you are engaged.” The words felt thick in her throat. She hated to remind him—them—but to do otherwise was wrong. Tugging gently, he relented and dropped her hand. Natalie stuffed them into the pockets of her dressing gown. Although she felt his hot gaze on her, he continued walking.
"Hickory's parents?” he resumed, as if nothing had happened.
Nothing had happened, she sternly reminded herself. And nothing would. Gathering her thoughts, she said, “We didn't see who left him."
"And the others?"
"Marla—"
"Marla was once an orphan at Ivy House?” he asked in surprise.
She lifted her chin, her tone both defensive and challenging. “Does it surprise you that she turned out so well?"
"Not at all. I just didn't know."
"As I was saying, Marla's parents died in a rock slide not far from here. She was adopted by the Masons when she was ten years old. We were very close—still are. I was next in age, and then there's Jo. Jo is ... well, she came to us when she was about eight. We have never found out who her parents are or were, or why she came to Ivy House."
"Do you think she remembers?” He grabbed her shoulder and steered her around the dark shadow of a manure pile in the road that she hadn't noticed.
She mumbled an absent thank you. “I think she does, but I don't think she'l
l ever talk about it.” God knew she had tried to get Jo to open the festering wound and let the poison out. But Jo refused to discuss her past. Natalie had to respect her decision; she had little choice. “Cole and Brett are brothers."
"Easy to figure out."
"Yes, they do look a lot alike. We think there's about a year's difference in their ages. Cole, the oldest, was about two years old, and Brett barely walking when a traveler brought them to the orphanage. He found them in the mountains in an abandoned shack. No sign of their parents."
"And Lori?” His voice had grown curiously deep.
Natalie dared to hope that he was beginning to care about the children. Hearing their tragic history would move a stone, and she suspected Elliot was far from heartless. “Her mother died in childbirth. Her father deserted her. She had no living relatives to take her in, so a neighbor brought her to Ivy House."
"I feel for her—my own mother died having me. Did you care for Lori as you did Hickory?"
"We all pitched in.” She didn't add that Mrs. Boone would have nothing to do with Lori and the other children had no choice but to care for the infant. Each time a baby was left at Ivy House, Nelda Boone would disappear into her room for days. Sometimes, Natalie thought she heard the housemother crying.
Since Nelda's desertion, she had decided it must have been her young imagination.
They had reached Ivy House. She glanced at the dark, two story house in the little hollow, surrounded by mountains and a dense forestry of trees.
Home.
She knew very little about the history of the house, other than what Mrs. Boone had grudgingly told her. Making a mental note to ask Elliot at a more appropriate time, she mumbled awkwardly, “Well, thank you for walking me home."
He grasped her arm as she started to walk away.
"Don't go yet.” His voice was low and husky, his grip firm and exciting. “You haven't told me about the other orphan."
Natalie frowned at him, trying to still the quaking in her belly. She really had to get away from this man! “What ‘other’ orphan?"
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