Starlight & Promises (19 page)

Samantha responded with a grin.

He winked. “However, I’ll not wager money on it. Next time our intruder could be a grasshopper.”

She snorted and scooped her blankets into her arms to ball them up. “You used quite the unique method for luring it away. A result of your eons of experience, I presume?”

He took the bedroll from her hands, shook it out, and rolled it into a neat, tight cylindrical bundle.

“I thought rattlesnakes hunted only at night,” she said.

“Normally they do, but when it’s chilly at night, like it is now, they hunt when the sun comes up, then digest their meal in the heat of the day. Anyway, that fellow was a bit thin. It hadn’t eaten in a while, and I had a suspicion it would not turn up its nose at a mouse.” A lazy smile tugged at one corner of his mouth. “And surely by now you’ve discovered I’m a unique fellow.”

“To be sure, you are,” she murmured, lowering her eyes and walking away to load her pack.

Christian carried Samantha’s pack, along with his own, to allow her shoulders time to heal. However, he warned her she would bear that responsibility the next day. Samantha gave him a careless shrug. Without the heavy pack, she skipped along as light as the clouds floating above, keeping pace with him more easily. She even forged ahead on occasion, returning only when he shouted at her to remain in sight and watch where she walked.

All the while, her buttocks flexed beneath the tight trousers, and Christian’s rebellious mind prattled,
I should have been between her legs instead of that snake
.

Toward late morning, they scaled the steep rock spanning the island’s length like a spiny backbone. The golden orb of the sun raised heat waves that danced like seductive Egyptian women over the plain at the foot of the ridge. Hawks floated overhead and dipped in sultry updrafts created by the abrupt change in landscape. Christian reached the crest and halted on a ledge. He called Samantha over and gestured to the land below. “This is the western side of the island. It receives most of the rain.”

“Remarkable,” she said. Her gaze swung back and forth from the brown half of the island to the lush green valley. A jungle of palms and ferns covered the western slope. Lianas twisted among the trees to create aboveground highways for a host of exotic birds and small mammals.

“Do you fancy a swim?” he asked, pointing to a declivity nearly hidden in the trees.

She peered downward and drew in a gasp. A waterfall sparkled like liquid silver as it cascaded over a cliff face, creating a mist rising as thickly as a London fog. Whiteness foamed where the water tumbled into a turquoise pool edged by green bushes and trees heavy with orchids. She turned to him with a wishful smile. “May we?”

“If you like. First allow me to establish that no grasshoppers are lurking in the water or bushes.”

She found it impossible to contain her enthusiasm and darted away to slide down a few feet of the steep slope.

He clasped a hand around her arm. “Wait. I’ll go first.”

They clambered down the rocky hillside, Christian keeping a careful eye on the way ahead, checking his footing before moving forward. When they encountered a particularly steep area, he helped Samantha with a steadying hand.

At length they stood beside the pool. After dropping the packs, Christian beat the bushes for unfriendly wildlife, then began to unbutton his shirt. “Wait until I tell you to come in.”

Samantha paid no attention. She squatted on the ground, dipped her hands in the cool water, and rubbed it on her parched face.

He cupped her chin in his hand and tipped it up until their eyes met. “Did you hear me? Don’t enter the water until I tell you it’s safe.”

“Quite clearly. Do hurry, Chris. I want to swim.”

He sat down to remove his boots and stockings. When he rose, he pulled his shirt out of his trousers.

Samantha’s eyes grew large and round. She caught her lower lip between her teeth. Why did it not occur to her until now that they would be required to disrobe? When he stripped his shirt over his head, she stuck a finger in her mouth and nibbled on the nail.

“I’ll have to do something about that, Sam,” he muttered.

Her gaze jumped up from the muscular chest covered with dark, curly hair, which held her undivided interest, to his face.

“Chewing your fingernails.” He gestured at the finger in her mouth and cast her a chiding look. “Do I make you nervous?”

She dropped her hand and spun around, twining her fingers together behind her back. “Of course not. ‘Tis merely a habit that has naught to do with you or my nerves. I have no notion I’m even doing it.”

He unbuttoned his trousers, the buttons sliding from the holes sounding as loud as gunshots.

“Perchance we can break that habit,” he went on. “Dr. Freud would say your mother denied you oral gratification as an infant. I’ll have to devise a substitute to occupy your hands and mouth.”

Her face burned hot. Though she had no notion what he meant, she suspected his thoughts were less than gentlemanly. “You will do no such thing,” she said.

He laughed, and the splash of his body hitting the pool came from behind her.

When she collected the courage to turn about, Christian was swimming underwater. He surfaced and bent at the waist. His bare legs shot straight up out of the water, and he disappeared again.

She must look a ninny, cowering on the bank, gawking at him. Though she possessed the courage to face down a deadly snake with the grace of Queen Victoria, she was incapable of viewing a nude man without her knees turning to marmalade.

When he dove again, it became clear that he was not completely unclothed. He still wore his linen smallclothes. Being wet, they clung to every ripple. Were she to concentrate, she could see through them to the powerful flesh beneath. So he only
appeared
to be bare. Her bones threatened to liquefy.

He popped up close to her, shaking his head, sending glittering droplets scattering across the pond and over her clothing. “It’s safe,” he said, scrubbing his hair away from his face. “You may swim now.”

Her fingers automatically moved to her mouth. She realized in time what she was doing and jerked her hand back down to her side. Despite his promise to teach her what she needed to know about the expedition, was this another attempt at intimidation? If so, it would not work. He could take his intimidating tactics and put them right in …

What are you waiting for, Samantha? Be brave. Show him he cannot frighten you
.

That was not her problem. Her hesitation stemmed not from fear of Christian but of the fire inundating her body. She had already allowed him to kiss her. No, were she being truthful, she begged him to kiss her and found it pleasant.

Pleasant? No, ‘twas ecstasy!

Samantha harbored no illusions she would ever wed. After four disastrous London seasons, she admitted her dubious assets and love of scientific achievements were unlikely to attract a serious suitor. Between her appalling temper and reptile collection, she made an abysmal choice for some peer’s wife. That fact became clear when a grass snake crawled out of her reticule while she and Jeremy Coulten strolled along the Serpentine at Hyde Park. After screaming like a fishwife, he fell into the water. His natty suit covered in duckweed, he climbed up the bank and escorted her home without uttering a word. Gossip of the incident spread through the Ton, and her suitors dwindled to naught. She was destined to remain on the shelf forever. Whether or not she sullied her reputation now seemed a moot point. In any event, she was a modern woman with no need of a husband or a reputation.

Christian swam away with strong pulls of his arms, slicing through the water like a fish. When he reached the other side, she ducked into the bushes, ripped off her boots and stockings, and stripped off her shirt and trousers. She shimmied into the water still wearing her camisole and pantalets. The pond was cool and wonderfully refreshing on her heated flesh, and she treaded water, sun warming her shoulders. Swimming out into the middle, she flipped onto her back, closed her eyes, and floated like a fallen leaf. With cool water laving her body and sun penetrating to her bones, she felt as if she could float forever.

Samantha opened her eyes at a splash. Christian was cleaving through the water toward her. She glanced down the length of her body to her lawn camisole and pantalets, and they were as transparent as a spiderweb. Rose nipples, plainly visible through the thin cloth, puckered tightly from the water’s chill. And, my God, the water even put the triangle of hair in her private area on display!

She dropped her legs, sank in the water. He drew nearer, swimming in circles around her. She spun with him, giving him a puzzled smile. What was he about? While treading water, she kept an eye on him.

He grinned slyly. “Were I a shark, I would see you as a tempting meal.” He continued to circle. “I would take a big bite out of that delectable little bottom.”

She wrinkled her nose and splashed water on his chest. “Cease, Chris.”

His circles tightened, and he gnashed his teeth.

“I mean it. Stop it!”

Dropping beneath the surface, he caught her legs and pulled her under. Teeth glided across her ankle and closed lightly around her calf. When he emerged again, he came up on the other side of the pond. Swimming toward her, he circled again. This time when he drew close, she splashed him in the face. Christian ducked and shot away underwater. He came back, precisely like a shark. Circling. Circling. Closer and closer.

His features harder and more menacing this time, he said, “Suppose our ship sinks, and we have to swim for shore through an ocean of sharks? How would you deal with your dire situation? Tell the sharks to cease?” He dove again, and his teeth grazed her thigh. She kicked out, connecting with his shoulder.

He surfaced with a grin. “Better. But duck beneath the water to face me. With those luscious legs waving about and that wiggling rear end, you make an enticing target.” He slapped a hand on the water’s surface. “With you up here and me below you, you cannot see what I’m doing.”

While he circled, Samantha plotted. As soon as he disappeared, she slipped under the water, pushing him away with a foot planted in his belly. He released an explosive stream of bubbles.

Entering into the spirit of the game, she analyzed his strategy, planning her countermoves, giving as good as she got. Christian praised her initiative when she eluded him and scolded her when he snuck in close enough to bite. At last he flipped belly up and floated away on his back.

Nerves jangling and limbs weary, Samantha exhaled a breath when his mock attacks came to an end. Closing her eyes, she floated and daydreamed about the Smilodon. It had Christian’s green eyes and stalked her from the high grass.

Christian shot up from the pond bottom and hooked an arm about her waist. She squealed. He drew her back against his chest and bit her on the neck. “I won,” he growled. “You dropped your guard too soon. Never assume the shark has given up until you know it’s dead.”

His bite gradually changed character, becoming a caress, moving down her neck to her shoulder. While he swam backward, he towed her toward the shoreline. Her back lay against his chest, and his hard manhood pulsed against her buttocks.

The water boiled where it touched her skin. She should push away. Fatigue made her limbs weak and limp. Her energy drained away.
And she was so damnably hot!
Though a mouse of apprehension gnawed at her mind, she knew Christian would not truly harm her. She relaxed and told herself she could trust him.

C
hristian’s mouth grazed her ear, and Samantha floated, unresisting, through the silky water. Circling the shell of her ear with his tongue, he dipped inside and traced the inner whorls. She shivered and steamed at the drag of his teeth along her skin and soft biting at the lobe. His lips traversed the back of her neck in small kisses and ended up at her other ear, nibbling and tonguing. If he did not stop, she would surely burst into flames.

She concentrated on the sensations of his mouth, and his hand moved upward to her breast, his palm traveling in lazy circles, brushing the nipple. Her breasts ached; her nipples hardened. The fleshy globes swelled, pressing into his hand. Taking the nipple between his thumb and forefinger, he rolled it and gave a gentle tug. A low moan strained against her throat. Sharp pulling streaked from her breast through her belly, straight to the tender flesh between her thighs, as though an invisible thread connected her chest and groin. She yearned to rub her thighs together or press her womanly flesh against something firm to alleviate the disturbing twinge.

When he slid his hand to her other breast, Christian stopped moving, having halted in waist-high water with his back against a tree growing out of the pond. Samantha tried to turn in his arms, to face him, insist he stop caressing her. Surely he took improper liberties, and even a modern woman would not allow a gentleman to go so far. But his arm around her waist held her firmly in place, and she did not really want him to stop. Both his hands settled on her breasts, kneading and pulling, stroking and teasing, and she whimpered. She had truly lost the game. Or had she won? Sagging against the hard wall of his chest, she gave up to the pulsing streaks of fire.

At her capitulation, Christian spun Samantha around. Holding her up, his hands under her arms, he bent one knee and braced his foot against the tree trunk. He seized her lips in a deep, scorching kiss, sweeping his tongue through her mouth with abandon, and lowered her astride his upraised thigh.

Her woman’s center made contact with his rigid leg. She released an explosive breath, squirming to press herself closer.

“Gently, Sam,” he whispered. “Allow me to lead, or you could hurt yourself.”

She puzzled over his words, but when he kissed her again, she forgot to ask their meaning.

Clasping her about the waist, he raised and lowered his thigh, slowly and smoothly. She slid along his slick skin as though gliding on a greased board. While he kept her from settling against him too deeply, she clutched his shoulders.