Once and Always
Page 58
Jolt after jolt of wild sensation rocketed through Victoria as his tongue explored her mouth, until, in a fever of dazed yearning, she touched her own tongue timidly to his lips. Jason’s response was immediate; he groaned and wrapped his uninjured arm around her, crushing her breasts against his chest, his tongue plunging deeply into her mouth, then retreating to plunge again and again in a wildly exciting, forbidden rhythm.
An eternity later, he pulled his mouth from hers and slid his lips along her hot cheek, kissing her jaw and temple. And then, without warning, he stopped.
Sanity slowly came back to Victoria, bringing with it an awful realization of her shameless behavior. Her cheek was pressed to his hard chest and she was half-lying atop him like a—a shameless wanton! Shaking inside, she forced herself to raise her head, fully expecting to see Jason regarding her with either triumph or contempt—which was nothing more than she deserved. Reluctantly she opened her eyes and forced herself to meet his gaze.
“My God,” he whispered hoarsely, his green eyes smoldering. Victoria flinched instinctively as he lifted his hand, but instead of shoving her away, he laid his palm against her flushed cheek, his fingertips softly tracing the delicate bones of her face. Confused by his inexplicable mood, she stared searchingly into his sultry eyes.
“Your name doesn’t suit you,” he whispered thoughtfully. “ ‘Victoria’ is too long and icy for such a small, fiery creature.”
Completely captivated by the intimate look in his eyes and the compelling gentleness in his voice, Victoria swallowed and said, “My parents called me Tory.”
“Tory,” he repeated, smiling. “I like that—it suits you perfectly.” His hypnotic gaze held hers as his hand continued its seductive stroking, sliding over her shoulder and up and down her arm. “I also like the way the sun shines on your hair when you drive off in the carriage with Caroline Collingwood,” he continued. “And I like the sound of your laughter. I like the way your eyes flash when you’re angry. ... Do you know what else I like?” he asked as his eyes drifted closed.
Victoria shook her head, mesmerized by his voice and the sweetness of his words.
With his eyes closed and a smile on his lips, he murmured, “Most of all ... I like the way you fill out that nightdress you’re wearing. . . .”
Victoria lurched back in offended modesty and his hand fell away, landing limply beside his head on the pillow. He was fast asleep.
With wide, disbelieving eyes, she stared at him, not knowing what to think or how to feel. He really was the most arrogant, bold— The outrage she was trying to summon absolutely refused to come forth, and a reluctant smile touched her lips as she gazed at him. The hard planes of his face were softer in sleep and, without a cynical twist to his mouth, he looked vulnerable and incredibly boyish.
Her smile deepened as she noticed how outrageously thick his eyelashes were—long, spiky lashes that any girl would yearn to have. Watching him, she began to wonder what he had been like as a little boy. Surely he hadn’t been cynical and detached and unapproachable as a child. “Andrew ruined all my childhood dreams,” she thought aloud. “I wonder who ruined yours.” He turned his head on the pillow and a stray lock of crisp, dark hair fell across his forehead. Feeling strangely maternal and slightly wicked, Victoria reached out and smoothed it away with her fingertips. “I’ll tell you a secret,” she confessed, knowing he wouldn’t hear her. “I like you, too, Jason.”
Across the hall a door clicked shut and Victoria jumped up guiltily, straightening her nightdress and smoothing her hair. But when she peeked into the hall, no one was there.
Chapter Eighteen
When Victoria went down to breakfast, she was amazed to find Uncle Charles already seated at the table, long before he normally arose, and seeming absolutely overjoyed about something.
“You’re looking as lovely as usual,” Charles said, beaming, as he stood up and pulled out her chair for her.
“And you’re looking even better than usual, Uncle Charles,” Victoria returned, smiling as she poured her tea and measured in some milk.
“I’ve never felt better,” he declared expansively. “Tell me, how is Jason feeling?”
Victoria dropped her spoon.
“What I mean is,” he explained smoothly, “I heard him moving about in the hall early this morning and I heard your voice too. Jason sounded,” he paused delicately, “a trifle disguised. Was he?”
Victoria nodded cheerfully. “Drunk as a wheelbarrow!”
Instead of commenting on that, Charles said, “Northrup informed me your friend Wiltshire was here an hour ago, inquiring rather desperately about Jason’s health.” He gave I her an amused, speculative look. “Wiltshire seemed to believe Jason had fought a duel this morning and been injured.”
Victoria realized it was useless to try to keep the matter from him. She nodded, laughing. “According to what Jason told me, he fought a duel with Lord Wiltshire because Lord Wiltshire called me ‘an English bumpkin.’ ”
“Wiltshire’s been plaguing me to distraction for permission to formally pay his addresses to you. I can’t believe he called you that.”
“I’m certain he did not. For one thing, it doesn’t make the least bit of sense.”
“None at all,” Charles agreed cheerfully. “But whatever the provocation for the duel was, Wiltshire apparently shot Jason?”
Merriment sparkled in Victoria’s eyes. “According to Lord Fielding, he was shot in the arm by a tree.”
“Oddly enough,” said Uncle Charles, amused, “that is exactly the story that Northrup had from young Wiltshire!” After a moment, he added, “No matter. I understand Dr. Worthing attended to Jason. He is a friend of Jason’s and mine, and an excellent physician. If Jason’s health was in any real danger, he would be here right now, caring for him. Moreover, Worthing can be depended upon to keep the matter quiet—dueling is illegal, you know.”
Victoria paled, and Uncle Charles reached across and covered her hand with his own, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “There’s nothing whatever to worry about.” An inexplicable tenderness shook his voice as he added, “I can’t tell you how—how profoundly happy I am to have you with us, my child. There is so much I want to tell you about Ja—about everything,” he amended lamely. “The time will soon come when I can.”
An eternity later, he pulled his mouth from hers and slid his lips along her hot cheek, kissing her jaw and temple. And then, without warning, he stopped.
Sanity slowly came back to Victoria, bringing with it an awful realization of her shameless behavior. Her cheek was pressed to his hard chest and she was half-lying atop him like a—a shameless wanton! Shaking inside, she forced herself to raise her head, fully expecting to see Jason regarding her with either triumph or contempt—which was nothing more than she deserved. Reluctantly she opened her eyes and forced herself to meet his gaze.
“My God,” he whispered hoarsely, his green eyes smoldering. Victoria flinched instinctively as he lifted his hand, but instead of shoving her away, he laid his palm against her flushed cheek, his fingertips softly tracing the delicate bones of her face. Confused by his inexplicable mood, she stared searchingly into his sultry eyes.
“Your name doesn’t suit you,” he whispered thoughtfully. “ ‘Victoria’ is too long and icy for such a small, fiery creature.”
Completely captivated by the intimate look in his eyes and the compelling gentleness in his voice, Victoria swallowed and said, “My parents called me Tory.”
“Tory,” he repeated, smiling. “I like that—it suits you perfectly.” His hypnotic gaze held hers as his hand continued its seductive stroking, sliding over her shoulder and up and down her arm. “I also like the way the sun shines on your hair when you drive off in the carriage with Caroline Collingwood,” he continued. “And I like the sound of your laughter. I like the way your eyes flash when you’re angry. ... Do you know what else I like?” he asked as his eyes drifted closed.
Victoria shook her head, mesmerized by his voice and the sweetness of his words.
With his eyes closed and a smile on his lips, he murmured, “Most of all ... I like the way you fill out that nightdress you’re wearing. . . .”
Victoria lurched back in offended modesty and his hand fell away, landing limply beside his head on the pillow. He was fast asleep.
With wide, disbelieving eyes, she stared at him, not knowing what to think or how to feel. He really was the most arrogant, bold— The outrage she was trying to summon absolutely refused to come forth, and a reluctant smile touched her lips as she gazed at him. The hard planes of his face were softer in sleep and, without a cynical twist to his mouth, he looked vulnerable and incredibly boyish.
Her smile deepened as she noticed how outrageously thick his eyelashes were—long, spiky lashes that any girl would yearn to have. Watching him, she began to wonder what he had been like as a little boy. Surely he hadn’t been cynical and detached and unapproachable as a child. “Andrew ruined all my childhood dreams,” she thought aloud. “I wonder who ruined yours.” He turned his head on the pillow and a stray lock of crisp, dark hair fell across his forehead. Feeling strangely maternal and slightly wicked, Victoria reached out and smoothed it away with her fingertips. “I’ll tell you a secret,” she confessed, knowing he wouldn’t hear her. “I like you, too, Jason.”
Across the hall a door clicked shut and Victoria jumped up guiltily, straightening her nightdress and smoothing her hair. But when she peeked into the hall, no one was there.
Chapter Eighteen
When Victoria went down to breakfast, she was amazed to find Uncle Charles already seated at the table, long before he normally arose, and seeming absolutely overjoyed about something.
“You’re looking as lovely as usual,” Charles said, beaming, as he stood up and pulled out her chair for her.
“And you’re looking even better than usual, Uncle Charles,” Victoria returned, smiling as she poured her tea and measured in some milk.
“I’ve never felt better,” he declared expansively. “Tell me, how is Jason feeling?”
Victoria dropped her spoon.
“What I mean is,” he explained smoothly, “I heard him moving about in the hall early this morning and I heard your voice too. Jason sounded,” he paused delicately, “a trifle disguised. Was he?”
Victoria nodded cheerfully. “Drunk as a wheelbarrow!”
Instead of commenting on that, Charles said, “Northrup informed me your friend Wiltshire was here an hour ago, inquiring rather desperately about Jason’s health.” He gave I her an amused, speculative look. “Wiltshire seemed to believe Jason had fought a duel this morning and been injured.”
Victoria realized it was useless to try to keep the matter from him. She nodded, laughing. “According to what Jason told me, he fought a duel with Lord Wiltshire because Lord Wiltshire called me ‘an English bumpkin.’ ”
“Wiltshire’s been plaguing me to distraction for permission to formally pay his addresses to you. I can’t believe he called you that.”
“I’m certain he did not. For one thing, it doesn’t make the least bit of sense.”
“None at all,” Charles agreed cheerfully. “But whatever the provocation for the duel was, Wiltshire apparently shot Jason?”
Merriment sparkled in Victoria’s eyes. “According to Lord Fielding, he was shot in the arm by a tree.”
“Oddly enough,” said Uncle Charles, amused, “that is exactly the story that Northrup had from young Wiltshire!” After a moment, he added, “No matter. I understand Dr. Worthing attended to Jason. He is a friend of Jason’s and mine, and an excellent physician. If Jason’s health was in any real danger, he would be here right now, caring for him. Moreover, Worthing can be depended upon to keep the matter quiet—dueling is illegal, you know.”
Victoria paled, and Uncle Charles reached across and covered her hand with his own, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “There’s nothing whatever to worry about.” An inexplicable tenderness shook his voice as he added, “I can’t tell you how—how profoundly happy I am to have you with us, my child. There is so much I want to tell you about Ja—about everything,” he amended lamely. “The time will soon come when I can.”
