Tori dreamed of sheep, though these days she loathed the bleating little beggars. She jerked awake, rubbed her eyes, and rolled her head on her neck. She couldn't think. She wasn't a businessperson and demonstrated that fact daily.
But curse it, I have to be. Her brows drawn, she organized everything to begin again. It was in this midnight hour, when her vision blurred, that she saw it.
The most wonderful mistake.
She riffled through the thick pile of contracts, focusing on that line only. Every one had the same error; how had they missed it? For years, McClure had paid her grandfather's farm for cheviot wool. They did not produce cheviot, but something much, much more expensive.
They produced...Anglo-merino.
Thirty-one
Tori called a secret meeting with the Huckabees right at daybreak to tell them about her discovery, but she wrestled confusion and even guilt for not including Grant. Why did she want to share the news with him? Because she wanted him to know that she was shrewd, that she'd found something no one else had?
No, that wasn't it. She just wanted to see him smile at the news. And he would. His breathtaking grins came easier these days. He was becoming integral to the Court. And to her. Yet even when he'd been foxed the night before, he hadn't confessed tender feelings, much less the love that she wanted. Impasse. This new information was her way toward complete ownership, and she'd keep this card close to her chest.
After she'd explained the details to the couple, she said, "I'm going to write McClure and tell him about the mistake. He owes us thousands of pounds in arrears." She gave a sly grin to Mrs. Huckabee. "I learned that term the other day."
They clasped hands, joyous over the discovery. Then Huckabee's expression dimmed. "What if he meant to cheat the earl? Think about it--the farm's wool manager was gone, the earl was sick and didn't handle business anymore, and I was barely holding things together. It seems unlikely to me that this man made an honest mistake over a four-year span, right when the farm was most vulnerable."
Tori sank back in her chair. "You're right. You're absolutely right. So what do we do? Do we go to the authorities?"
"If you go the court route," Mrs. Huckabee began, "you won't see any money for years."
Huckabee slapped his hand on his knee. "I've got it. We could go the 'gentleman's threat' route." When she frowned, he explained, "Make copies of everything and send him the proof, then write 'Govern yourself accordingly.' "
"Gentleman's threat." She tapped her chin. "Let's try it. What do we have to lose?"
So she worked most of the day copying contracts, then sent the package out for delivery. If Huck caught the mail coach, the documents would arrive at McClure's in the morning.
The next day, nervous and tense about the outcome, Tori decided to work herself into oblivion, but a commotion in the drive interrupted her.
She met up with the Huckabees, and the three strode to the entrance. Grant was there, greeting a carriage from Whitestone that brought a laundress, a cook, a maid, as well as a carpenter to work on the roof of the sheep barn. The Huckabees were overjoyed--Mrs. Huckabee nearly swooned with relief--with everyone beaming at Grant.
Tori stomped off, out of sight of the new help and the Huckabees, but Grant followed her to the salon. When she turned around, he was very close, reaching out to gently touch her arm.
"You look done in."
She backed away. "As if I needed you to tell me that."
"You should have a bath drawn for you," he suggested, his voice deep, lulling her. Her mind was so muddled. Heaven forgive her, but a bath in her room's big marble plunge tub did sound divine. Soaking in steaming, scented water up to her chin...Her weakness made her even more furious. "I don't want a bath, and I didn't want servants. I don't even know where to put them."
"They can stay on the third floor of the lower Court."
She put her fingers up to her temples. "We can't heat it."
"Summer is coming."
"Still, their wages--"
"I'm paying for any additional cost."
She stiffened. "I don't want that." He looked so reasonable, and the gesture was so logical, yet she wanted to screech her fury at him. Instead, she said, "Clever Grant, finding another way into the Court. Do you think I don't see what you're doing?"
His face registered disbelief. "You would believe that I brought help here to undermine you, before you would believe I brought them to make your life easier." His voice was hard. "Do you know me at all?"
"I've had to learn that you'll do whatever it takes to get what you want. And now, with this move, everyone will look to you for decisions to be made."
"You must really want me gone," he said, then shook his head. "Damn it, Victoria, deny it."
She said nothing.
"I thought you were beginning to see that we worked well together, that we could make a go of this." Disappointment laced his tone. "I was mistaken."
Grant strode out to the stable to ready his horse. He spotted her at the window, biting her lip and nervously fingering the edge of some ancient curtains, and he wondered if she thought he was leaving for good. What he'd said was true--he had thought she was coming around. He'd stormed out, furious and full of regret, but he was more angry with himself. He must have hurt her deeply for her to have this continued animosity. The idea that he'd hurt her made him crazed.
No, he wasn't leaving her. Not today, not ever. He hitched up a cart of supplies and rode to work on another line of fence. This one wasn't downed, but it could be soon, and he needed the work.
By the time he got Victoria to marry him, she'd have the best bloody fences in the county.
When he ran out of materials near sundown, he ambled to the stream to wash off. He skipped stones, finding himself staring after them long after they'd sunk to the bottom.
When night fell, he lay on a rock by the bank looking up at the stars. Their placement was what he was accustomed to; he was in England, listening to the countryside prepare for sleep, his body weary from work. His heart should be glad, but he knew as long as he was away from and unmarried to the only woman he'd ever loved, nothing would be right.
Damn it, he missed her.
He stood and stretched his sore back, wondering if she could possibly miss him too. He wondered if she was so strong and self-assured that she'd cast what was between them into the past, never to be retrieved.
He turned in the direction of the Court, as if to see her. What he saw out of the corner of his eye made him suck in a breath. He turned to the eerie light, scrubbing a hand over his face, unbelieving.
Fire lit up the valley.
Thirty-two
Tori lay in bed, staring at the peeling wallpaper. She was like this old room, worn and neglected. After Grant had left, she wondered each hour if she could feel emptier, and each hour she did. Her sadness was escalating, and she feared where it would end.
Had he left her? For good? She hadn't given him any reason to stay. Curse it! He couldn't give up--not when he'd shown her what she couldn't live without.
Him.
That utter, utter bastard.
Realizing she'd never get him off her mind, she rose and walked into his room, pilfering his pillow. She lay down again, bringing it up to her chest and hugging it. It wasn't as if his scent would bring more dreams throughout the night. There couldn't be more dreams about him.
She heard noises downstairs and jumped out of bed once more, hoping he'd come home. But when she lifted the window sash and surveyed the drive, a light in the distance caught her eyes.
Panic clogged her throat. The sheep barn was ablaze.
Sprinting down the stairs, screaming for help the whole way down, Tori ran for the barn. They had sick ewes in there mending, pregnant ones needing extra food and care.
When she'd charged breathless into the valley, several villagers were already working a fire line, although everyone had to know the fire was too intense and spreading too rapidly for anything to be done. Her knees
threatened to buckle. Yet she forced herself closer to the fire to see if she could help, then blinked her eyes in incomprehension.
Looking past the flames inside, she spied Grant on the other end of the barn. She cried his name--he couldn't hear her. She ran for him, but the heat drove her back. He had his coat off, swatting at the few ewes left, forcing the confused animals to escape. As if having received a blow, she watched him drop down and vanish behind a wall of flame. Then he stood again--only to disappear once more.
Hiking up her gown, she ran around the entire length of the barn, through high wet grasses, slipping as she went. When she reached the south opening, she peered in, but couldn't see him at all. The air left her lungs as though she'd been hit. She sucked in a smoke-filled gasp and screamed his name, yet received no answer. No, she couldn't panic. Find him and drag him back.
Determined, she walked into the flaming entrance.
An arm like steel wrapped around her waist and hurled her outward, her body pushed far from the barn and shoved to the ground. She landed, wheezing, Grant falling on top of her just as the roof gave in with a shuddering boom and a shower of sparks floated up to the sky.
When she reclaimed her wits, she rolled on top of him, sitting up to straddle him, wondering where to hit him first. How dare he risk himself like that! Didn't he know she couldn't live without him?
"Christ, Victoria," he bit out as his hands flew to her hips. "If I'd known this would be the outcome, then I'd have set the fire myself--"
"You stupid, stupid man," she said with a slap. "Obstinate! That's what you are." Punch. "I ought to kill you myself." She beat at his chest like a drum.
When she pinched him--hard--he rolled her over, pinning her arms above her head.
"No!" She struggled to free her arms. "I'm not through hitting!"
"I'm through being hit."
She bucked her hips beneath him, making him groan. "Love, that doesn't have the effect I think you intended."
Tears flooded her eyes in a rush. "Why did you stay in there? Why didn't you run away the first time you fell?"
He released her hands and leaned down beside her. "I didn't fall."
"I saw you go down twice."
He frowned. "I suppose it'd look like I fell. But I was retrieving some things."
"What things?"
His face tightened. "Just some things."
It was then that she heard mewing sounds. "The kittens!" She twined her head toward the sound and saw several shaky balls of fur crawling out from under his coat to their mother. "I thought for sure they were dead--they were up in the hayloft."
"The cat was moving them one at a time to the ground. But then the fire spread. The grayish one--"
"They're all gray now."
"Then the small one who is still hissing...he was not cooperative with my rescue."
Tori was grinning now. "That's why you went down a second time? To rescue one last kitten?"
"In for a penny," he muttered.
Tori saw the mother cat blink at them with a kitten in her mouth, already setting to work transporting, "I think you've just become my hero. My rescuer of kittens."
"That's enough," he grumbled.
She kissed his face. "I didn't know how I was going to get to you."
"Damn it, Victoria. You need to promise you'll never do anything dangerous to help me."
"Can't," she mumbled.
He put his hand on her face, and brushed at the tears on her cheeks. "Why?"
She caught his gaze. Because I'm in love with you. More than ever before.... She knew she couldn't bear to live without him--no matter what the circumstances--and drew a breath to tell him--
"Miss!" Huckabee called as he trotted over. "Are you all right?"
Grant groaned and rolled on his back as though stunned from the intimate contact with her.
"We're fine," she said, but now that she and Grant had separated, she began shaking in the cold grass.
Grant shot to his feet. "Huckabee, get a bath heating," he barked.
"The new girl has a heap of water on."
"Good." Grant pulled her up and grabbed his coat from the ground, then wrapped it around her shoulders, bringing her close to his side. Even through the smoke and soot, she imagined she could smell his skin.
Halfway up the valley, she stumbled, and he swooped her into his arms. When she moved an inch to be more comfortable, he mistook the motion as a protest.
"Just let me have this," he rasped.
She relaxed in his arms. Did he think that would be all she'd give him tonight?
He carried her into her room, booted open the door to the bathing closet, then raised his eyebrows when he saw the massive marble bath situated before a stoked grate. Steam rose from the water.
He deposited her at the side of the basin. "Will you manage?" His voice was low and rough.
No, she wouldn't. She didn't want to let him out of her sight and knew a grand way to keep him here. She looked down shyly, gliding her finger back and forth across the water. "We both smell like smoke, and there's a bath big enough for two. All this inviting water..."
She bit her lip nervously, wondering what he would do, but before she glanced up at him he was already kicking off his boots. She jumped up to help him with his shirt, then lifted her arms for him to draw her ruined nightdress from her.
Her fingers sought his trousers and grazed his skin low as she worked the buttons, the slight touch sending his breath whistling.
"Get into the water, Victoria." His voice was ragged. "You need to get warm."
She was tempted not to, to see if he'd take her right there. When she hesitated, he clasped her shoulders, turned her, and tapped her on the bottom to prod her forward. With shaking legs, she climbed the two steps leading up to the edge. As she sank into the water all the way up to her chest, she sighed in contentment even as she held her hand out to him.
He eased in, then drew her between his legs. She thought he would kiss her, but he moved her to put her back to his chest. He grasped a bar of soap and gently washed her hair, piling it atop her head so he could bathe her back and shoulders before moving to her upper chest. He scarcely touched her breasts. This was all business. He poured water over her hair and back, rinsing her clean.
"Your turn." She moved around in the basin to sit behind him. As he'd done, she washed him, massaging the tight muscles of his back, rinsing him off. To reach his chest, she leaned into his back, making sure he felt her breasts slipping across his skin. In an instant, he turned to her, kneeling, reaching out on each side of her to grasp the basin behind her. His whole body enclosed her.
He reached his head down to kiss and nip from her collarbone to her breast. She arched her back so he could taste her nipples. When he dragged his tongue over the first, his arms straightened and flexed around her. Her hands latched on to them, holding on as she raised herself to him. He licked and suckled mercilessly, and right when she thought she might reach her climax just from his mouth on her breasts, he groaned against one pebble-hard peak, "I can't take much more. I've wanted you too long."
"Then take me to bed," she murmured.
He sucked in a breath and stood, but she was slower, especially slow when his heavy shaft hung just before her face, commanding her attention. He reached down to lift her up, but she ignored his hand and grasped him. He groaned as if in pain, but she couldn't have let go if she desired to. So slick and hard, with water sluicing down the hollows and outcurves of rigid stomach muscles, running along the trail of hair to his engorged shaft.
"I missed this...." Before he could stop her, she kissed him lovingly, showing him how much. His flesh was hot against her lips and pulsed against her tongue, making her hungry to suck him into her mouth as he'd described all those nights ago.
With an inhuman growl, he buried his hands in her hair. She couldn't tell if he was pulling or pushing her away and thought he didn't know either. "You don't know what you do to me. Seeing your lips on me and knowing you want t
o pleasure me with your mouth. I've dreamed of this for so many nights."
"What else have you dreamed of?" she asked against the crown, right before she flicked the salty tip with her tongue.
"My God." He threw his head back and she gazed upward over the straining muscles in his chest and arms. His body was a mass of power.
He didn't answer her question, but hauled her out of the basin, grabbed a towel, and roughly licked and dried every inch of her. She tried to do the same to him, but he pulled her to his chest, to look down at her eyes. "Did I frighten you the last time we made love? Did I hurt you?"
"No, never."
"Then let me show you what I've dreamed of." His words made shivers run up her spine.
He led her to the bed, pulling her to him when he sat, long legs stretched out, his back against the headboard. He was so strong he easily situated her where he wanted her, legs spread across him, straddling him as she had earlier in the night.
Would they make love like this? Her atop him? Before she could voice the question, he had his big hands on her bottom, pulling her sex forward toward his waiting mouth. When his tongue first found her, he groaned against her flesh, making her shudder. She felt herself grow wetter, knew he felt it when he growled, "Sweet as honey."
In total abandon, she twined her fingers in his hair, clasping him closer. At that, he groaned again and moved her down his body, placing her on his rod, guiding her down him. The movement was slow and torturing for her. For him as well, if she could tell by his squeezing and clutching, by the muscles straining in his neck and chest.
She let out a breath she hadn't known she held. Too intense...He went deeper than before, plunging far inside, and she still wasn't able to take all of him.
"I'm so near," she panted.
Immediately, he drew her from him, bringing her back to his hungry mouth as he casually sat devouring her.
"Oh, God," she cried, arching her back, pushing against his hot tongue rubbing inside her. Her peak loomed once more, but now it was sharper, near frightening.
When she placed her hands against the wall above him, preparing for the ecstasy about to take her, he again set her away, this time pounding her down on him, then surging his hips up.