Summers' Embrace

by Lora Thomas

  A wave crashed and sent the water gliding up to her, touching her shoes. She watched the wave go back into the ocean and another approach, this one barely reaching her. The tide was coming in, and it would only be a matter of minutes before her dry patch of sand would be wet. Standing, she dusted the sand from her dinner gown. She knew she needed to return. It was late, and Elena would be worried about her.

  Turning, she headed back to the path. Stopping before the hotel, she looked up. The rooms were dark.

  “Great,” Catrina mumbled. Now how was she to find her way back to her room? With no lanterns lit, she would never find the chambers. Perhaps, Elena would leave the door cracked open. But then again, why would she? Last Catrina saw of Elena, she was with Lord Hawke, and the pair were going to go for a nightly stroll along the beach. No doubt Elena assumed Catrina was already abed.

  “I hope she has an ounce of sense to her. Unlike me,” Catrina mumbled. She knew the plea was futile. Elena had only one thought on her mind, and that was Lord Hawke.

  Slipping inside the hotel, Catrina found the staircase and made her way up the three flights to her floor. No lanterns were burning. She closed her eyes. Why? Reaching out in front of her, she blindly felt for something. A chair. A wall. Even a person. But nothing. Sliding her feet over the carpeted floor, her toe struck a table, causing the items on top to rattle. Holding her arms out, she felt the wall.

  Gliding her hands over the wall, she stopped at a doorframe and felt along the wooden structure until she found the brass numbers. Her fingers traced the number. Was that a three or an eight? Deciding this was not her room, she moved on.

  “Think, think, think,” she mumbled. A quick gasp left her. “My chambers are in a corner.”

  Surely, she must be near one of the corners. She eased forward until a wall greeted her foot. Corner room number one. Her hand found the room number. She felt a three as the first number. Easing her fingers to the last number, her brows furrowed. Was that a zero, three, or an eight? She studied the digits for a few more seconds.

  “Zero,” she said with relief.

  Easing open the door, she slipped inside. The moon cast only a dim light into the room. She glanced at the bed and noticed Elena was already abed and asleep.

  “Figures,” Catrina mumbled. Elena did not even know she was not here. Catrina glared at the bed. It would serve Elena right if Catrina jumped on the bed and woke her. But then that, in turn, would stir Mr. and Mrs. Paxsley. She shook her head. No, that would cause too much of an issue. The Paxsleys were gracious enough to invite her. It would be rude of her to cause trouble.

  Slipping her shoes off, she tossed her wrap upon the chair. After untying the ribbon on the back of her pink gown, she pulled the dress over her head and threw it in the corner. Sitting down in the chair, curiosity pulled at her brow. Was this chair leather? She could have sworn it was a lush fabric. Shaking the thought from her head, she removed her stockings and left them on the floor. She should find a clean shift, but she was tired and wanted to lie down.

  Climbing into bed, she closed her eyes. Taking a deep breath, she stifled her groan. Elena smelled like Lord Hawke. The scent of Lord Hawke’s sweet water was the same as Thomas’s. Turning her back to Elena, Catrina pressed her eyes closed tighter. She did not know how long she laid there, but she finally drifted off into a fitful sleep filled with dreams of sorrow. And was awoken the next morning in a most surprising way.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Thomas gave a small stretch. His eyes suddenly flew open as he felt something upon his chest. Looking downward, he noticed a petite hand upon his chest. He followed the hand to the arm. The arm to the clothed body. The body to the face. Panic set in as he saw Catrina Wilcox in his bed. She looked beautiful. The sun was shining through the window, causing her hair to shimmer and have a mahogany appearance. Her long lashes were resting upon high cheeks. Her mouth was slightly parted, causing her lips to appear fuller. The coverlet was down to her waist, and the shift she wore was thin, allowing him a shrouded view of her breasts. It was pulled low, revealing the valley between them. Her nipples were pebbled from the coolness of the room. With each breath, the hidden treasure would rise, causing him to struggle to resist a nearly overpowering temptation.

  Thomas glanced around the room. At least they were in his chambers. How the hell did this happen? After the dinner, he escorted Lady Iris to her chambers and left her there. Thomas then joined Artie, and they went to a local tavern and proceeded to consume any beverage they could. He had a good reason to get soused. He had spent two hours turning a cold shoulder to the sister of his enemy. Two hours across the table from the most intriguing woman he had ever met. Two hours across from the woman he had tasted yet could never possess. He was foxed last night, that much he could remember. But after starting on a second bottle, everything else was a blur.

  He looked back at Catrina, still confused about how she ended up in his bed. Footsteps were rushing by in the hallway, but he paid them no heed. His worry? How to wake Catrina without her creating a scene.

  Easing her arm from his body, he propped up on one elbow and gritted his teeth. Damn. Before he could talk himself out of it, he shoved his hand over her mouth. Catrina’s eyes flew open, and her arms flew wildly outwards. Her feet began kicking wildly.

  “Calm down,” Thomas fiercely whispered.

  Her struggles did not stop.

  “Catrina. Calm down. If you do not, then we will both be discovered in a situation not to either of our likings.”

  Catrina focused on the face above her, and her struggles ceased.

  “If I remove my hand, do you promise not to scream?”

  She nodded.

  He eased his hand from her mouth.

  “What are you doing in my bed?” she snapped.

  “I am not. You are in my bed.”

  “Do not be preposterous! Why would I be in your bed?”

  “That is what I would like to know.”

  There was a knock at the door. “Lord Huntsley!”

  Catrina’s eyes widened.

  “Shit,” Thomas mumbled. He sat up and looked frantically around the room. There was nowhere for her to hide. Glancing down at her, he could see Catrina had the same thoughts as he. Neither one wanted to be caught in this situation. “Do you trust me?”

  “What?”

  “Do you trust me?”

  Catrina looked in his eyes. Her better judgment told her to say no, but she could not. “Yes.”

  “Do not move,” Thomas said, pulling the covers over her head.

  A knock upon the door sounded again. “Lord Huntsley!”

  Thomas threw his legs out of bed and trotted across the room. “Coming!” he growled. Glancing at the bed one last time to make certain Catrina was hidden, he opened the door. “What is this about?”

  “Sorry, my lord,” a porter said. “But Miss Catrina Wilcox is missing. Have you seen her?”

  Thomas had to play the role of a man with a hangover. And that shouldn’t be hard because his head was killing him. His voice was harsh as he asked, “Do I look like I have seen her?”

  The porter stared wide-eyed at the viscount.

  Thomas raised a brow at the man.

  “Sorry, my lord,” the porter finally spoke. “But Mr. Ingram has instructed me to ask all guests.”

  “I have not seen Miss Wilcox since last night’s dinner. She was with Lord Hawke and Miss Paxsley. I suggest you ask them.”

  “We have, my lord. She did not return to her room last evening.”

  “Perhaps she did and just awoke before everyone else and decided to go for a walk along the beach.”

  The porter shook his head. “No, my lord. Miss Paxsley said she did not return. Miss Paxsley said even her ballgown is missing.”

  Ballgown! Thomas glanced over his shoulder and spotted the pink dress on his chair. He could feel his heart rate increase. He had to close this bloody door before someone noticed the dress.

  “I can assure you
I have not seen her. But give me a moment to dress, and I will join the search.”

  The porter bowed. “Thank you, my lord.”

  Thomas shut the door and clenched his jaw. Damn! Trotting to the bed, he pulled the coverlet back. “You can get up now, Catrina.”

  Catrina sat up and looked around. “Did they know I am here?”

  Thomas shook his head and approached the chair. “No.” He tossed her dress at her. “Now, get dressed.”

  She clutched the gown to her chest, her eyes coming to him. She swallowed hard. He was wearing only a pair of black breeches that were undone. Muscles rippled over his chest. His dark hair was mused, and a dark stubble of whiskers cast a shadow upon his strong jawline.

  “I cannot dress in front of you,” she protested.

  Thomas arched a dark brow at her. “Would you prefer me to open the door?”

  She shook her head. “That will not be necessary. It is just that—”

  “Look, Catrina, we are both in this situation. If we do not hurry, then your reputation will be ruined.”

  “You ruined that yesterday,” Catrina snapped.

  “And if I could change the past, I would never have let that happen.”

  “Because of who I am?”

  “Because you…” He paused. Because what? She deserved better than him? She deserved someone who was not as tarnished and bitter as him? “Get dressed before I will be forced to partake in a duel with Mr. Paxsley, a feat I do not want to engage in for I like the man.”

  “Why would you have to duel Mr. Paxsley?”

  “Because you are his guest. He would be obligated to defend your honor.”

  Catrina’s fingers worked the gown nervously. “Have you been in many duels?

  “A few. Now, do you mind? Please dress.” Thomas was crisp as he turned and picked up his shirt. Catrina watched the muscles in his back ripple as he pulled it over his shoulders, and the memory of the feel of those same muscles came to mind. Of how they felt as she caressed them. She closed her eyes in an attempt to clear her mind.

  His tone made her angry. The hurt of the past few days welled up and came pouring out. “It is not the fear of partaking in a duel with Mr. Paxsley that worries you, but the notion that Lady Iris will call off your wedding. The notion that you will have to marry me instead.”

  Thomas pivoted, buttoning his shirt. “What?”

  “Lady Iris. She is your worry, Lord Huntsley. If I am discovered here, you fear she will call off your wedding. You fear you would have to make me your wife.”

  “That is not the reason.” He longed to tell her that he would gladly take her to be his wife but knew that could never happen.

  “Really, Lord Huntsley? If I do not believe you, you can see why?” She raised her chin proudly.

  “What have I said to make you think I am a liar?”

  “It is not what you said, but what you did.”

  “And what, pray tell, did I do to warrant such opinion?”

  “You kissed me, knowing that you were going to ask Lady Iris for her hand. You used me knowing you had already asked for her! And for what? A good laugh? To brag to your friends?”

  Thomas jerked the collar of his shirt upward. “Do not act so righteous. Did you not tell me that you were engaged to be wed as well? You partook in our encounter willingly. Without protest.”

  “That is different.”

  “How?”

  “Because I have no choice. You do. You knew that you were going to ask for Lady Iris’s hand and kissed me anyway. You knew you wanted to marry that self-righteous viper when you danced with me. You knew of your intentions when we were in that cave. You, sir, took advantage of my vulnerability for your amusement.”

  “I did no such thing, Miss Wilcox. But I do not need to defend my actions to you.”

  Her chin quivered, but she refused to give in to the pain. Her voice had a slight waver as she replied, “No. I guess you do not.”

  She stood and pulled the dress over her head. Thomas turned his back to her.

  “Where are my stockings?” Catrina asked.

  Thomas leaned over and picked them up. He turned to her and threw them her way. “Do not worry about putting them on. We have to hurry.”

  She wadded up the stockings in her hand. “Of course, we do. We cannot have anyone knowing I was here, can we?”

  “I would not have that issue if you were not in here to begin with. Do you not know where your own chambers are?”

  She shook her head. “No. And I get terribly lost. I took a walk after dinner last night. When I returned to the hotel, all the lanterns were extinguished. I had to feel my way to the rooms. I guess I picked the wrong room.”

  “You guess?” Thomas snapped.

  “You do not have to yell at me,” she hissed. “My room number is three hundred ten. I felt a three and a zero on the door and assumed this was my room.”

  Footsteps from the hallway echoed throughout the room. “Search the beaches,” a voice ordered.

  Thomas mumbled and ran his fingers through his hair again. “Come on.”

  “Where are we going?”

  Thomas walked to the balcony doors. “I have a peculiar issue. You see, when I stay somewhere, I do not want to be disturbed and rent two rooms—one in the corner and the adjacent one. I stay in the corner room, leaving an unoccupied room between me and the other guests.”

  He opened the doors.

  Catrina’s eyes widened. “Are you suggesting I cross the balcony to the empty room?”

  “Yes. Unless you have a better idea?”

  Catrina looked around. There was no other option.

  “Please hurry before someone sees you.” Thomas stepped outside.

  Catrina approached Thomas. No one was on the ground around them. She looked to her right and noticed the balcony railing. She approached and looked over to the adjacent balcony. Only a few feet separated the two, but it might as well have been a thousand miles. She shook her head.

  “I cannot do this.”

  “You must,” Thomas insisted.

  “I cannot, Lord Huntsley. Heights frighten me.”

  “And dueling a respected man is not agreeable with me.” Thomas climbed upon the railing. Taking a deep breath, he straddled his legs, placing a foot upon each banister. He motioned to her with his fingers. “Now, come on.”

  “I cannot.”

  “Come on, Catrina.”

  She swallowed hard and placed her hands in Thomas’s.

  “I have got you,” Thomas reassured.

  She cringed but allowed Thomas to assist her. A whimper left her as he pulled her to the banister.

  “Hold onto me,” Thomas instructed.

  She wrapped her hand around his arm and shut her eyes. She was trembling with fear.

  “I have got you,” Thomas said again, wrapping an arm around her.

  Before Catrina knew it, Thomas had easily swung her to the adjacent balcony.

  She opened her lids. He hopped down and approached the double doors. He jiggled the knob and a mumbled curse left him.

  “They are locked.”

  Before Catrina could reply, he raised a foot and kicked. The lock released and the doors swung open. Thomas motioned for her to enter. Once inside, a relieved breath left her.

  “Wait here for about twenty minutes, then make yourself known.”

  “Wait! What should I tell them?”

  Thomas approached the balcony. “Tell them an altered version of the truth. You became lost and thought this was your chambers. Now, I must go before someone sees me.”

  Thomas exited the room. As he climbed across the railing, he was unaware of the sets of eyes upon him.

  Catrina took a deep breath and looked around the room. If she had stayed here, then the bed would be a mess. Approaching the bed, she threw back the covers and rumpled the pillows. As she studied the sheets, she realized that it was still not enough. Climbing into the bed, she rolled from side to side to wrinkle the linens. She jumped ou
t of bed and studied them. Better.

  She sat down in a chair, and a chill ran over her. A cloak would be nice about now.

  “My cloak!” she whispered in horror. She had left it in Thomas’s chambers. Cradling her head in her hands, she mumbled. “Why?”

  The mantle clock chimed half-past seven. Thomas said to wait for twenty minutes. When was that? Had it been long enough? What did he care? It was not her reputation he was concerned with, but his own personal freedom. Her heart ached. When had she developed such strong feelings for Lord Huntsley?

  Approaching the door, she pressed her ear to the wood. She could hear voices, none she recognized. Then she heard Thomas. He said he would search the beach.

  She paced the room. The clock gave a single chime for the quarter-hour.

  “Come on,” she mumbled at the clock as if that would make time move faster. She paced the floor more. Looking at the clock again, she groaned. Only a few minutes had passed.

  “I have got to go.” Catrina approached the door and opened it. Stepping into the hallway, a maid nearly ran into her.

  “Excuse me, miss,” the maid said.

  Remember the ruse, Catrina chided herself. “What is all the commotion about?”

  “A guest is missing.”

  “Who?”

  “Miss Wilcox.”

  Catrina swallowed hard. “I…” Her voice came out in a high-pitched squeak. She cleared her throat. “I am Catrina Wilcox.”

  “Praise be!” the maid exclaimed. Turning, she shouted, “I’ve found her!”

  Footsteps rumbled in the corridor.

  “Catrina!” Elena said, throwing her arms around her friend. “Where have you been? Are you well? I was so worried.”

  “I am fine. I told you I would get lost trying to locate our quarters.”