Suzanne Robinson (32 page)

“You made me forget.”

“We should go back to the house.”

“In a moment,” Nick said. “I need to know you’re clear about me, young George. You got to see me straight.”

“I do.”

“No, you don’t. Quit staring at me like a prowling she-cat looking for a tom and listen. I’ve been in the devil and all of trouble in my life, young George.”

Georgiana stopped him by taking his face between her hands and kissing him gently. “I already know. Jocelin told me what you haven’t.”

“And—and you don’t mind?”

“Nicholas Ross, I told you I’m not going to answer that silly question anymore. But there is something you can tell me. Will you mind my plans to found a home for unfortunate children?”

“I used to be one of them.” He took her hand and kissed it. “I got a home you can use.”

“You do?”

He turned her hand over and kissed the palm. “Uh-huh. Jos says it’s as big as that palace in Russia with all the paintings.”

“The Hermitage?” Georgiana said faintly.

“That’s it. I hardly use the place. Too big, and I’m not in the country that often.”

Suddenly suspicious, Georgiana withdrew her hand and grabbed Nick’s in hers. “Just how many houses do you have?”

“Oh, seven, maybe eight now. I’d have to ask my man in London. I been collecting them for a while. There’s a heap o’ toffs who got no business sense and need cash. I got the cash.”

“So you can spare this Hermitage,” Georgiana said, still taken aback.

Nick ran the backs of his fingers down her shoulder
and nodded absently. “I think I’m too weak to go back to the house right now.”

Georgiana touched his cheek.

“You’re warm. Are you catching a fever?”

Nick laid his head on her breast. “Yes.”

She wrapped her arms around him.

“I knew we shouldn’t have gone into the plunge bath. I should have taken you back to the house.”

She felt him turn his face and press it to her breasts. A hot tongue delved into the cleft between them. She cried out and lifted his head so that she could see his eyes, which crinkled with amusement.

“You deceitful wretch.”

Nick put the back of his hand to his forehead. “I feel faint.” His head dropped to her breast again and he nuzzled her.

Georgiana shrieked and shoved him back. Allowing her to move him, he propped his elbows on a step and grinned at her.

“I hear those ancient Egyptians had several wives.”

“Only a few noblemen and the king,” Georgiana said as she rose and offered her hand to him. He took it and stood beside her, still grinning wickedly. “I’d think twice before I tried it, though.”

“Why?” he asked as they went up the stairs.

She gave him a sideways glance. “Because often a few wives would get together and try to do away with the husband so they and their sons could inherit his riches.”

“Bloody hell.”

Georgiana slipped her arm through Nick’s and smiled into the indigo merriment of his eyes. “By the
way, do you think your Hermitage is big enough to hold a few of my artifacts?”

“You mean them mummies and naked statues and such? Strike me blind if I want those things lurking in my house!”

“Now, Nick.”

“No.”

She stopped, flattened her hands on his chest, and stood on tiptoe. Breathing softly into his ear, she said, “Nick,” drawing the word out into a long sigh. “Nick, my love. Sweet Nick.”

“Well, maybe a few statues.”

“Nick, Nick, Nicholas.”

He swore and picked her up in his arms. “Whatever you want, damn it, young George. Whatever you want.”

She wrapped her arms around him and let him carry her out of the temple. “Thank you, my dearest love.”

“I think I’m in trouble, young George—prime, deep trouble.”

S
UZANNE
R
OBINSON
has a doctoral degree in anthropology with a specialty in ancient Middle Eastern archaeology. She has now turned her attention to the creation of the fascinating fictional characters in her unforgettable historical romances.

Suzanne lives in San Antonio with her husband and her two English springer spaniels. She divides her time between writing historical romance and mystery under her first name, Lynda.