Return of the Rose (17 page)

“You’re a madman.” She lifted her nose to the air and swished him away. “You’ll just have to pursue your shameless, self-enjoyment elsewhere. I’m sure there are other women waiting in line for your lordly caress.”
But none that wanted him as much as she did
, she thought pathetically. He was visibly firm beneath his tight leather medieval pants. And the fact that she noticed at all made her moan.

“Then I will have no choice but to relieve you of those garbs myself.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“‘Twould seem you know me not.”

“I can do it myself, but I won’t be ordered around by you. Besides,” she added haughtily with a small wave of her hand, “I’m not in the mood.”

“That meager bit of cloth you wear can only mean you are in the mood for one thing.”

She huffed. “It’s not my…I mean, I didn’t know…” She sighed, frustrated at herself for wearing the ridiculous dress in the first place. “I’ll never wear it again, okay? I’d like to leave now.”

“Nay. Not until you show me the rest of that which you flaunt about my men.”

It dawned on her then, hitting her full force. The man was jealous. Could it be? The idea of it seemed a little bit ludicrous and a whole lot wonderful. “Is that what this is all about?” she asked, unable to stop a wide grin from spreading across her face.

“And what, I am fearful to ask, are you talking about now?”

“You’re jealous.”

“‘Tis not a trait I possess.”

She waggled a finger at him. “You are. I can see it scrawled all over your face.” She laughed, pleased with the way things were turning out.

His expression remained steadfastly inscrutable.

“Why is it so unbelievably hard for you to open up to me?” she asked. “Did last night mean anything, or was I just another notch on your headboard?”

The puzzled look on his face made her smile.

“Would it make you happy if it were so?” he asked.

“Would what make me happy?”

“If I were to say I was jealous?”

She thought for a moment. “Yes, I guess it would.”

“And if I were to confess to being jealous, although ‘tis a ridiculous notion, you would then be eager to reveal what little is not already exposed?”

Morgan laughed at that. “Maybe. But only if I choose to and not because of any threats you make. And not, mind you, until you have fully admitted to being jealous.”

“Agreed. I, Derek Vanguard confess to having been momentarily envious of every man, boy, and animal whose glance, peep, or gander crossed over thy fair maiden’s form.” He tapped his foot to the floor. “I am waiting.”

Morgan swallowed, mortified at the idea of undressing within his sun-drenched room. “One thing,” she said, ignoring his impatient scowl. “For every item I remove, you must extract two of your own.”

“‘Twould seem you drive a hard bargain, my lady.” With that said, he hardly struggled at all as he promptly removed the cumbersome chain mail, tossing it to the floor with a clank and a thud. Quickly following was his leather belt along with a clasp of precious stones.

Morgan gulped at the swiftness of his agreement. Smiling halfheartedly, she realized she didn’t have many clothes to discard. She eyed her slippers.

Derek cleared his throat impatiently.

“Okay, okay.” Slowly, she slipped off her shoes and handed them to him so he could add them to the pile.

“You decry this a fair game, my lady?”

She smiled coyly.

Derek hastily removed two leather boots and his woolen stockings. He stared at her, drumming his fingers against his muscled thigh.

This was not the scene she’d envisioned. First of all, she never intended for him to take her seriously. Secondly, she had no desire to stand before him stark naked in the brilliant sunlit room. Sure, he’d seen it all before, she thought, but that was in the midst of passion. She was too embarrassed to reveal her modesty to this cocky warrior though, and she tried his patience to the hilt as she wondered what to take off next.

“It seems you are in need of assistance after all.”

“I can handle this myself, thank you very much.” She unhooked her necklace and looked at it lovingly before placing her rose pendant carefully on his bedside table.

He was way ahead of her, throwing his tunic and cotton shirt atop the pile before her necklace was fully removed. He waited another minute as she struggled with what to take off next. “Enough,” he said. “I refuse to wait another moment whilst you brood over what to extract next.”

Her gaze followed his hand as he reached into the top of her gown. She felt his knuckles against her breasts, and she gave a startled gasp when he ripped her gown clean off with one swift sweep of his hand. Wide-eyed, she watched him throw the dress atop the mounting heap. “You can’t go around ripping all my clothes off. I won’t have anything left to wear!”

“I will purchase any cloth needed to replenish your wardrobe on the morrow. Now help me out of these,” he demanded with a good deal of exasperation in his voice.

Her hands shook as she attempted to loosen the leather laces that held his breeches tight against his thick muscular thighs and narrow waist.

He groaned as her fingers fumbled along and finally he yanked the breeches off impatiently and tossed them to the pile. He towered over her, leaning close so that he could nuzzle her throat as his hands slipped beneath her back.

She eagerly wrapped herself within his arms while his mouth claimed her breast. A small moan escaped as his thumb gently rubbed at her lips.

Her hands explored the lean ripples of his back, wandering lower until she felt the firm contours of his buttocks. She let out a contented sigh of ecstasy as he entered her, slowly, gently. There was a small gentle ache, but no pain this time as he kissed her, moved within her. Her legs quivered and she took pleasure in the sounds of his low, rumbling groans. She tightened around him and sucked in a breath at the quickness of her release as they were both brought to fervid, spiraling satisfaction. A blissful oblivion consumed her as she felt him shudder inside of her.

Still on top of her, using his forearms to hold most of his weight, Derek kissed her chin and then her neck.

“What are you thinking?” she asked after a moment.

Derek considered revealing the truth, letting her know how she unsettled him, wreaking havoc upon his body and mind. He should tell her all that was once stable and rational was now unreliable. And why? Because every wakeful thought was of her emerald eyes and bewitching smile. He no longer had to touch her to imagine fully the velvety smoothness of her skin. He had gone to the training fields this morn in hopes of exuding her from his mind. It had been working, too, until he saw her standing there, fairly naked at that, in her crimson gown. Verily his brain was now impotent when it came to concentrating on his duties, and this last thought caused him to say instead, “I was thinking of all the work piling up because of my being here.”

Her frown told him that any feelings of pleasure were abruptly eclipsed by irritation.

“Were you always this insensitive?” she asked.

Derek looked to the hearth. Before the fire appeared a ghostly image of his father as the elderly Vanguard poked at the burning logs with a stick. “
Go away, boy
,”
his father said
, “
I have no time for your useless whining.
”

“
But father
,”
Derek tried again
, “
my horse is dead. The stable master said you ordered it to be so
.”

“
I will not have you coddling a worthless animal before my men. That is a weakness your mother possessed. How many times must I tell you not to get attached to anyone or anything?
”

“
But he was mine, a gift to me
.”

His father finally looked into his eyes and said dispassionately
, “T
he blade sliced through the beast’s throat so swiftly it hardly suffered. Now be off with you before I am forced to call one of the servants to deal with you instead
.”

Derek’s stomach knotted and his blood surged at the remembrance of his father’s hate: a detached, emotionless hate so strong that even the disciplining of his only son was left more often than not for others to handle.

“I’m sorry,” Morgan said as she touched his arm. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“It is nothing,” he said. The caring in her voice was like hot iron to his skin. He drew away and went about retrieving his clothes from the floor.

“Can’t you stay for a while longer?”

He looked at her and sighed. “Is that disappointment I see in your eyes?”

“Me? Disappointed? You’ve got to be kidding,” she said. “Not me. I’m happy as a lark.”

He exhaled as she tried to convince him she cared not in the least that he had no time to linger.

“For your information, Lord Vanguard, I happen to be resistant to disappointment.” She shook her head and laughed in an exaggerated attempt to show him how unaffected she was by his leaving so abruptly once again. “It so happens that I, too, have better things to do with my time than dawdle in bed with you.”

“‘Tis good to know,” he said as he shuffled through the pile of clothes on the floor.

“Derek?” she said after a few silent moments passed between them.

“Hmmm?” He turned toward her, smiling when he caught her staring. “‘Tis something you see to your liking?”

Her face heated and she quickly looked away. He felt himself growing hard again. “Look what you do to me,” he said. “‘Tis unladylike for you to be ogling me every chance you get.”

“That’s ridiculous,” she said, gazing at a tapestry on the wall. “I wasn’t ogling you.”

“Call it what you will, but I fair say your eyes stroked me with such heat that I am afraid I will not be able to tie my breeches now.”

She sighed, and then quickly changed the subject. “I was going to ask you if you plan to go through with this marriage business. We both know you don’t want to marry…so why go through with it?”

“Because it is my duty to do so,” he said evenly, tugging his breeches upward.

“What if I were to let you off the hook somehow?”

“It is kind of you to offer but it is too late. You are no longer a young, innocent maiden and no one else would have you.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “I could have anyone I wanted.”

He shook his head. “‘Tis too difficult for a husband to train a bride of so many years. You are far beyond the usual age. Perchance you are right, though, and there is a feeble old knight somewhere who would show interest.”

Frowning, she said, “I could find someone. And,” she added indignantly, “he’d probably pay a king’s ransom to have me. It’s not important, though, because I don’t need a man to make my life complete.”

Derek hid the smile that threatened to come forward. The woman had an inner feminine strength about her that made him want her even more. He also knew she was right about the king’s ransom.

“Is your life complete?” she asked, apparently unable to let a moment pass without chatter.

He sat on a stool and put on his woolen stockings. “I have not the time to ponder it.”

“Are you happy?” she asked.

“Nay. How could I be when no one allows me to get any work done?”

“Now that I’m better, I’ll be able to help you with your work.”

He came back to her and pinned her to the bed with his body, using his elbows to keep his weight from crushing her. Gazing upon her with admiration, he brushed a light kiss on her forehead. Unable to stop there he slid his mouth down over her soft cheek until he reached her lips. He pulled away a moment later and went back to finding his clothes, unwilling to accept the fact that she drove him mad with desire even now, so soon after having his fill of her.

Morgan stared at his backside as he rummaged through a wooden chest across the room, wondering why he was so intent on hiding his feelings. Odelia was right. He didn’t love her as she loved him. Not yet. But maybe he could if she helped him open up. He was holding back and he was stubborn. Her head ached at the thought of leaving him. She couldn’t bear the thought of going through a life of sadness and grief. She could remember the day when she’d found a trunk of memorabilia concerning her mother’s accident, the same accident that had caused her mother to lose her husband and child. When Morgan had asked her mother about that day, Cathy had told her everything. How she and her husband, Eric, and their only daughter, Ashley, had left a party early to spend Christmas Eve at home. What tore at her mother’s insides every day since was that Eric had been leery about driving in the stormy conditions. It was Cathy who’d insisted they go. A sudden deluge of rain had made the roads slippery and without warning, a semi-truck weaving out of control had blindsided them.

Cathy awoke to the stark whiteness of the hospital. According to police, her husband could have escaped through his side of the vehicle, but instead, he gave up his life saving his wife and then trying to save his daughter. Everything was taken from Cathy Hayes in that one horrible moment. And worse, Cathy felt she was to blame.

Without warning, Morgan had been swept through time to this century. What was to stop it from happening again?

Morgan watched Derek slip a clean shirt over his rumpled head of hair before he gazed back at her with concern. “Did I say something to cause you grief?”

Morgan shook her head, her annoyance with him already receding. “Where are you going?”

“You think I can lay in idleness all day?” he questioned, tucking in his shirt.

“I was beginning to think you enjoyed being with me just a little bit.” She squeezed her index finger together with her thumb to show him how much. “I forgot momentarily about your duties, but trust me when I say I won’t forget again.”

“Good,” he said curtly.

She threw a pillow at him.

He ducked and it flew past his head, hitting the wall. As he placed his sword within its ivory sheath, his eyes glimmered with mischief and his voice was thick with lust. “Though you beseech me with your tempting lips of roses and skin of lilies in full bloom,” he said, “I decry, my fairest maiden, I have training of my men to do. Verily I could only spare the remotest slip of time to punish you for coming to the training fields dressed in a gown befitting a bar wench. Surely my men will be out of commission for most of the day with images of you floating about their unseasoned heads.”