by Kit Donner
She listened for a moment. All still. The storm, which earlier had thundered over the house, had settled into a gentle rain. She heard the drops tapping at her window, but that wasn’t the same noise.
Wait.
There it was again.
She closed her eyes to listen more clearly. A faint sound of an animal. Yes, a meow. A cat’s sad cry. If it indeed was an animal, it must be in trouble. She pushed away the blankets with her feet and slowly rolled out of bed. At first she felt a little light-headed, but the cold floor beneath her bare feet soon repaired her senses.
Her dressing gown missing, she grabbed a thin blanket and wrapped it around her shoulders while walking toward the door. Cautiously, she opened it and peered around the edge, wondering if anyone else had heard the crying and planned to investigate. Silence, except for the cat.
She padded down the hall, stopping every now and again to listen for the cat and to follow the noise. The longcase clock downstairs in the hallway chimed one o’clock in the morning, scaring her heart into a race. What was she so afraid of? Bryce discovering her in her present condition in a nightdress and blanket?
Earlier tonight, when his hot tongue had touched her, she knew she would never be free from him—his smile, his warmth, his strength, his touch, his kiss. Not even long after she had returned home to Storrington. Sansouche’s touch was already a nightmare locked away from remembrance.
The third squeak on the stairs halted Patience in her tracks, surely her thundering heart would wake the household. The quiet held, no doors swung open, no light shined on the stairs revealing Patience to be the intruder she felt.
On the first landing, she heard the cat’s plaintive cry from outside. She raised the sash, slowly revealing the night filled with a thousand dewdrops, a thousand stars, and one big, fat black cat sitting in a wet tree.
Martha’s Satan.
She called softly to him. “Come here, little kitty. Come to Patience.”
The stubborn cat sat in the tree, glad to have an audience but not willing to budge one inch. Judging the distance between the window ledge and the tree, she thought she might be able reach out and grab the cat. She looked down, then wished she hadn’t. Even one floor off the ground looked a great distance.
She wrapped the blanket around her waist, took a deep breath, and leaned across the wet window ledge. The cat remained just beyond her reach. A few more inches and she could grab the fat cat. Edging out farther, her waist now across the sill, one arm holding onto the window sash and one hand outstretched to Satan.
So concentrated in her efforts to save the cat, she didn’t feel her feet leave the landing or her blanket slide farther down her body. Satan almost in her grasp, the playful cat batted away her hand with his paw.
“You stupid cat, I’m trying to save you. You should be more cooperative,” she told Satan in agitation, but he sat there and continued his mewing. “All right, then.”
She made one last attempt and lunged for the cat.
And began to fall out the window.
Someone roughly grabbed her legs in time and pulled her to safety. Patience shuddered in her rescuer’s arms, grateful for the assistance and forgetting the thin nightgown that kept her decently covered.
It could only be Bryce.
“Patience, what were you doing out the window? I left you asleep in your bed.”
She looked up at Bryce. Here he was, saving her again. Is it possible I may have as many lives as a cat? Flicking her damp hair out of her face, she gestured toward the window.
“Martha’s cat, Satan. He’s caught in the tree. I heard him meowing from my bedroom and tried to save him, except he wanted no part of my help.”
They both leaned out the window to discover the black cat had ventured even higher in the tree, obviously seeking safety from any troublesome humans, and blending into the night, his gold eyes their only target.
She stared in dismay before turning a beseeching look on Bryce. “Can you help him? I’m rather afraid of heights.”
He grimaced, knowing bed would have to wait. Remembering how her wet and warm body felt in his arms, it was going to be a long night.
To keep his thoughts off her very desirable body, he bent to pick up her forgotten blanket and wrapped it around her before leaning his head out the window to plan his cat-saving mission.
No other windows on this side of the house would enable him to reach the troublesome cat, who no doubt would eventually come down on his own accord. But one look at Patience’s countenance ensnared him: the hero-worship look. He sighed. Did she never take a respite from saving children or animals? He pulled his head in from the window, closed the sash, and started down the stairs.
“Where are you going?”
He stopped and turned to look at her, trying to ignore her bare feet and shapely calves showing below her nightdress, but it was too Herculean an effort. Once again, her body wielded control over a certain part of his body, almost as if his member had a life of its own. He wished the rain could help cool his passion, but he knew nothing ever would.
“I plan to save that damn cat. The only clear way is to climb the tree,” he told her succinctly.
“Oh, but is that the only way? You might fall out of the tree and hurt yourself.” She followed him down the stairs.
“My lady, you disappoint me with an obvious lack of faith in my abilities. I’ve climbed that tree many times in my youth. I think I can save one miserable cat.” He stalked away, leaving the house, clad only in his white shirt and black breeches.
Patience rushed back up the stairs to watch him out the window. She saw him nimbly climb the lower branches of the tree, seeming to know which ones would hold his weight. She chewed her lips, fearing for his safety and afraid to look and watch him fall.
But up and up he went until he finally reached the cat’s resting place. He reached over and managed to grasp the black cat, who appeared quite unwilling to accompany his champion. But Bryce had a firm grip on him and slowly, methodically, rerouted himself down the tree.
Once he slipped and nearly dropped the ungrateful animal. When Satan dug his claws well into Bryce’s shoulder for salvation, he concentrated harder on descending the tree and not on the sharp, throbbing pain delivered by Satan himself. Irony abounded.
Reliving the miserable evening, he could not wait for this night to end: Patience looking so damn fetching yet he couldn’t touch her, her attack in the gardens by that scum Frenchman, and now climbing down a wet, slippery tree with a cat making mincemeat out of his shoulder. All for Patience.
She opened the kitchen door and watched Satan leap from Bryce’s shoulder onto the wooden floor and calmly make his way toward the hall. Bryce was wet through and through and obviously not in the mood for her gratitude. He brushed by her, intent on having a stiff draught of whiskey and retiring to bed with the bottle. Maybe then he could forget her wet curves and her warm mouth. Or was it her warm curves and her wet mouth?
“My lord?”
Bryce turned around and faced her, wondering what more she could possibly want from him.
She warily approached him, sensing the tension in him and thinking he looked like he could explode. Although she greatly feared the fierce expression on his face and the wild, dark look in his eyes, she reached up to touch his shoulder where blood had seeped through his shirt from the cat’s claws.
“Your shoulder needs to be seen to. It looks quite painful.” Her soft voice and concerned lovely face penetrated his anger.
“Yes,” he told her abruptly, suddenly not wanting to let her out of his sight. “Bring some bandages to the library.”
A few minutes later she joined him in the library, now cozy with the beginnings of a fire. Bryce sat by the hearth, slumped in his chair, a whiskey bottle in his hand. He had yet to take a sip and couldn’t for the life of him discover why he hesitated.
Patience approached him, still clad in her nightdress and her thin blanket for protection. She set a basin of water behin
d him on a small table, along with her bandages and scissors. Her nervous tongue ran over her dry lips as she carefully pulled the ripped shirt from his bloodied shoulder and concentrated on avoiding Bryce’s heated gaze.
She knew what she was doing. Or did she? Did she realize she was playing with fire, playing with a hungry tiger and looking more and more like his meal? Instead of frightening her, his look only caused molten lava to heat her skin wherever he looked, while a thin perspiration formed on her skin.
Suddenly, Patience felt like the inside of Melenroy’s large kettle bubbling over the fire. She wiped her brow and returned his gaze with more assurance than she felt. “I…I think”—she cleared her throat—“I believe this will work better if you remove your shirt.”
Bryce shrugged and placed his whiskey bottle on the table before unbuttoning his shirt. Standing over his half-naked body brought their one night of passion thundering back to her, unless the sound was actually her heart beating, fast. She felt her nipples harden in response to the expanse of firm, muscled chest revealed before her.
He threw the shirt on the floor and settled once more back into the chair. She leaned over him to reach the table, and her muslin-clad breast accidentally brushed his shoulder, causing them both to jump.
“I’m sorry, I’ll try to be more careful.”
He didn’t bother to reassure her that she hadn’t hurt his shoulder but merely scorched his skin with her innocent touch.
Patience studiously cleaned the wound and wrapped it with a clean bandage, admitting to herself he handled the pain admirably, with no need for spirits. She stepped back to admire her handiwork.
“There, did he hurt you anywhere else?” She faltered under his intense gaze, most anxious to quit the room before she threw herself onto his lap and wrapped her arms around his inviting masculine chest.
“Ah, as a matter of fact, he scratched my hand in several places,” he suddenly remembered and held out his hands for inspection.
She studied his firm, strong hands but could not find any scratches.
“See, right there.” He pointed to a small scratch on his little finger.
Patience had to bend quite close to see the scratch, then looked back at Bryce, as if to judge whether he was bamboozling her or not. Only innocence etched that fine face she had learned to care so much about.
With a sigh, she cleaned the little scratch as well, then gathered up her nursing tools, prepared to leave. He watched her carefully, and Patience prayed he would not see her intense longing, which she tried to hide. But if he had, he said nothing. She stepped back to see his face by the firelight, wondering what he was thinking, and with a smile to him, turned to go.
His eyes were shut, avoiding her gaze. She started to back away, but he grabbed her nearest hand, holding it lightly in his, brushing his thumb over her smooth skin.
He murmured softly, yet harshly, “What do you want from me, Patience? I can’t go on like this. Tell me you want my touch. I need to hear you say it.”
His eyes still closed, he wanted to hear the truth in her words, if he couldn’t read it on her face.
Patience bit her lip. What did she want? What did he want to hear? That she wanted his love? That she wanted to be his wife and bear his children? That she wanted never to leave him because it would break her heart and her spirit? What truth did he want to hear?
She found herself drawn to him in a spell and whispered, “Yes, I want you to touch me. I want you to kiss me. Make me feel as I did before.”
He finally opened his eyes and her breath caught in her throat at his heated blue eyes blazing with passion. She told him softly, “I want what we had before. I want you.”
He savored his victory of her acquiescence only briefly before giving his lady what she wanted.
Chapter 23
Stretched comfortably on his chair, Bryce drew Patience onto his lap and tenderly wrapped his hands around her narrow waist, her nightdress and his breeches still between them, her instruments of mercy fallen forgotten to the floor. Each stared mesmerized at the other as Patience placed her arms around his neck, waiting for his kiss.
He slowly tilted her chin up, brushing the side of her soft, warm cheek with his hand. His mouth hovered over hers briefly before kissing her slowly and gently, almost as if this was the first time they kissed. An unexpected spark surged between them. Something was different this time. Something more forever.
Patience’s hands in his thick hair, she rubbed her wet nightgown against his very warm chest, as Bryce deepened the kiss. He groaned, feeling her body touching him in all the right places.
They were both on fire. He swept his tongue into her mouth, seeking possession and her sweetness. She gave back willingly and ardently, wanting him as much as he wanted her.
Bryce unwillingly ended their tongue play to gain his breath and the upper hand, which Patience seemed to be taking from him unknowingly. He wanted to make the night last and shower her with such passion that she would never forget that she was a part of him.
He lifted her from his lap to stand and held her lightly in his arms. He couldn’t take his eyes off her. In front of him, her full breasts begged for his touch. He easily captured one nipple in his mouth through her thin white nightdress, causing Patience’s sweet moan at the sensuous feel of his hot tongue on her breast. His right hand slid up from her waist to grasp her other breast, kneading and stroking the lovely fullness at his whim.
She placed her hands on his shoulders for support, arching her back for his pleasuring mouth. When one breast became a taut wetness, he turned his attention to her other nipple, laving and sucking the tip to her delight and his immense pleasure.
She thought she would expire from the flame in his touch. Her senses drowned in this wet fire, lit higher when he grasped her hips and pulled her back on the chair with him, her legs on either side of his legs and centered to his swollen member tight in his breeches.
He slowly rubbed his length at the juncture of her thighs, as Patience caught her breath and uttered a soft cry. He stroked her legs, pushing her nightdress up to her waist. She shivered at his touch as he kissed her again with such intensity, all thought and reason swept away. There was only him and her and this night.
Bryce pulled her reluctantly away from him and looked up into her face warm with passion. His hardened maleness pulsed achingly when he saw her hazel eyes darkened in desire, desire that he had created in her, and only he. He allowed himself a small smile before rising to stand with her, still holding on to her, her legs now wrapped around his waist. After a few more punishing kisses, he set her gently down.
Patience watched him with wonder and trust in her eyes, which made his heart swell. Without losing any time, Bryce quickly arranged her blanket on the floor before the fire with a pillow for her head.
He turned to her while kneeling on the floor and outstretched his hand for her. He saw her shy smile as she brushed her wispy hair from her cheek and knelt down before him. Bryce captured her face in his hands and claimed her ripe mouth in a soft kiss, which instantly became demanding.
Patience, wrapping her arms around his shoulders, eagerly returned his kiss before they slowly pulled apart. She feathered tiny kisses along his solid jaw, then mischievously painted his lips with her tongue, before delving into his mouth to mate with his tongue.
He started slightly at her boldness, he was not sure how much longer he could last until he had to press inside her to relieve his aching need.
He gently pushed her to the floor, until they were both stretched out along the blanket. He slid one leg between hers to rub his knee against her quivering form while he resumed his searching kisses, branding her with the passion she inspired in him.
He leaned up and away from her, trying to gain control of the raging heat inside of him from just the taste of her lips and the passion-filled gaze in her hazel eyes. Bryce slowly traveled down her body, planting kisses on her nightdress, causing the little shivers that shook her body.
Bryce reached for the ends of her nightdress and slowly, torturing himself, raised the garment up past her lovely white calves to reveal slender thighs, trembling beneath his hard stare, kiss by kiss up each warm limb. And he pushed her garment still farther up, revealing the soft dark curls at her thighs’ juncture.
He hesitated before continuing to slide the thin material past her smooth waist to her full breasts waiting for his touch. Slowly, wanting the sensations to last, he caressed her stomach and then her breasts, drawing a soft moan from her—his woman. For that was who she was and would always be.
As he drew closer, Patience reclined on the blanket, then her arms reached up to grasp his shoulders. He paused to unbutton the few buttons at the top of her nightdress before pulling it over her head. Bryce stopped and stared at the lovely vision before him gilded in golden firelight. Shadows danced across her enticing curves and hidden valleys, a wondrous land he fully intended to explore this night. But her entrancement lay in the beautiful dark innocence of her warm stare.
Bryce thought perhaps Patience would allow him to touch her soul tonight, at least he would make every effort to try.
She continued stretching toward him, imploring him in silence to return to her but he shook his head. He was determined to give her what she wanted and even what she didn’t know she wanted.
Grasping her waist between his hands, he leaned down and attended to the pert rosy nipple posed next to his mouth. Again and again he laved the tip with his hot tongue before taking it into his mouth and plucking at the bud between his teeth.
She writhed uncontrollably underneath him, caught by the tidal wave of passion lashing over her. “Please, I want…I want…”
