A Night to Surrender (Spindle Cove #1)(40)
Author: Tessa Dare

He was quiet for a long moment. Then his chest rumbled—not with a laugh, but with a loud, resonant snore.

She laughed at herself, and at the same time hot tears spilled from her eyes. In his sleep, he flexed a protective arm around her. His embrace felt so right.

Perhaps she could trust him to guard her. He was strong and principled, and she had no doubt he would risk his life to keep her safe, in body. But he couldn’t make any promises to guard her heart.

And in her heart, she feared she was already falling. Tumbling headlong toward a world of pain.

Fourteen

“Ouch.”

Susanna released the rose blossom and stared at the tiny drop of welling blood on her finger. Reflexively, she stuck it in her mouth, soothing the hurt.

“Kate,” she called across the garden, “would you finish the roses for me? I’ve forgotten my gloves this morning.”

Incredible. She never forgot her gloves.

She left the roses and moved to the herbal bed, gathering great fistfuls of thorn-free lavender and snipping them free with shears. Soon her basket was heaped to overflowing with fragrant stalks. And still, she kept piling them higher.

Whenever she tried to still them, her hands began to tremble. Maybe because they were still heavy with the feel of his skin, his hair.

At this very moment, Bram remained asleep upstairs on the upper floor of Summerfield. Meanwhile, down here in the garden, Susanna was forced to keep up the Wednesday habit of hosting the Spindle Cove ladies. Gardening first, tea after. Normally, she appreciated both their company and their help. But today, she would have far rather been alone with her thoughts.

Because her thoughts were all of him. They made her blush. They made her feel uncorseted, exposed. They made her sigh—aloud, for heaven’s sake. Ladies clustered all around her, pulling weeds, cutting blooms, sketching bumblebees and blossoms. But when Susanna knelt beside the feverfew and let her gaze go unfocused, her thoughts climbed straight upstairs.

She saw him. Dark, powerful limbs, covered with even darker hair, all tangled among the white, crisp sheets. Her sleeping beast. In her mind’s eye, she approached the bed, eased onto the mattress beside him. Stroked his cropped, velvet hair. Kissed the notch carved between his throat and clavicle. Heat raced along her skin, gathered between her thighs.

And then he woke, capturing her with his strong arms and that compassionate green gaze. His heavy weight atop her was a blessing, not a burden or a threat.

Susanna fair, he said. You were the perfect place to land.

“Miss Finch. Miss Finch!”

She shook herself, coming back into the present. “Yes, Mrs. Lange?” How long had the poor woman been trying to catch her attention?

“Did you want me to divide these lilies today? Or shall we leave them for another week?”

“Oh. Whatever you think best.”

From beneath her straw bonnet, the other woman gave her an impatient look. “It is your garden, Miss Finch. And you always have an opinion.”

“What’s wrong, dear?” Mrs. Highwood asked. “It doesn’t seem like you to be so distracted.”

“I know. It’s not. Forgive me.”

“It’s a lovely day,” Kate said. “I can’t imagine what has you so out of sorts.”

“It’s not a what.” Minerva looked up from her sketchbook. “It’s a who.”

Susanna gave her a warning look. “Minerva, I’m sure you don’t need—”

“Oh, I’m sure I do. And you mustn’t be ashamed to talk about it, Miss Finch. You needn’t suffer in silence, and the ladies ought to know. They may need to protect themselves.” She closed her sketchbook and turned to the assembled ladies. “It’s Lord Rycliff, the vile man. He did not hit his head when he made that dive yesterday. He survived the fall with no harm, and then he attacked Miss Finch in the cove.”

“Minerva.” Susanna put her hand to her temple. “He did not attack me.”

“He did!” She turned to the others. “When I came upon them, they were both drenched to the skin. Poor Miss Finch was shaking like a leaf, and he had his hands . . . Well, let’s just say he had his hands in places they oughtn’t be. She tried to fend him off, but he wasn’t having any of it.”

I like it when you snipe at me. A thrill raced through her at the memory.

“It’s fortunate I came along when I did,” Minerva said. “And that I’d made such a good find of weighty specimens that morning.”

Fortunate? Perhaps it was. Lord only knew what liberties Susanna would have allowed him without Minerva’s interruption. And if those drugs hadn’t carried him off to sleep last night . . .

She’d stayed an hour in his arms, unable to leave. Stroking his strong back and shoulders and listening to his gentle, rumbling snore. When she’d sensed herself drifting off to sleep too, she’d extricated herself from the bed and returned to her own room. Watching over a wounded man as he slept . . . that much was a healer’s duty. Sleeping with him . . . now that was the privilege of a wife.

And she wasn’t his wife, she reminded herself. She had no business sharing a bed—or a cove, or an armory—with the man. No matter how passionate he proved her to be, or how exhilarated his caresses made her feel, or how sweetly he kissed her damaged wrists. If she gave into fleeting pleasure with him, she could lose everything she’d worked so hard to build.

She could lose everything now, if Minerva’s “helpful” reports weren’t contained.

“Minerva, you’re mistaken,” she said firmly. “You weren’t wearing your spectacles, and you don’t know what you saw.” To the others, she declared, “I swam out to check on Lord Rycliff’s health. We were discussing it when Minerva came along.”

“That wasn’t discussing, it was grappling,” Minerva said. “And I’m not that blind. I know very well what I saw. He kissed you!”

Mrs. Lange made an outraged squawk. “I knew it. Men are such filthy invaders. I shall write a poem.”

“He kissed you?” Kate’s eyes flew wide. “Lord Rycliff kissed you? Yesterday?”

“Yes, he did,” Minerva answered for her. “And it wasn’t the first time, from the looks of things. Clearly he’s been molesting her ever since he arrived in the neighborhood.”

Susanna lowered herself onto the nearest bench. She felt her life unraveling at its seams.

“Oh, this is wonderful,” Mrs. Highwood said, coming to sit at Susanna’s side. “I knew you’d caught his eye, my dear. And Lord Payne has shown a marked preference for my Diana. Just think, the two of you could be cousins by marriage!”