He now realized with blinding certainty that he would rather die himself than have anything happen to her.
Elgiva stirred slowly, her thoughts fuzzy from the pill Gert had given her. She blinked, frowned in the darkness of her room, and couldn’t decide what had caused her to wake up. She fumbled with the cool silk sheets and tugged vaguely at the low-cut bodice of her nightgown. Glancing at a clock on the wicker nightstand, she saw that she had been asleep for several hours.
Stretching her legs, she felt a foot connect with something large. Something on the corner of her bed. Elgiva raised up on her elbows and squinted frantically. “Douglas!”
He got up, staggered a little, moved forward, and sat down carefully beside her. Even her groggy senses couldn’t miss the potent scent of whisky as he leaned over her and braced an arm on the mattress. “You’ve had a bit too much to drink,” she said. “Or is that an understatement?”
He chuckled. “You bet. I’m three plaid sheets to the wind, doll. Go ahead and laugh at me. This doesn’t happen very often.”
Elgiva groaned softly. People had a tendency to reveal their inner selves when they were in this condition. Jonathan had bellowed at her. Rob became comically sentimental. And on the few occasions when she’d had too much to drink, Elgiva had cried and felt lonely.
She held her breath. What would Douglas do?
His intense, harshly shadowed face was too close for comfort, and her spine tingled at his emotion-filled silence. Trembling, Elgiva lay back. She searched for the right words. “Why are you drinking?” she asked as calmly as she could. “What has upset you?”
“You could have drowned.” His slurred voice was anguished and incredibly gentle. “I nearly killed you.”
Elgiva was speechless for a moment. “No one was supposed to tell you. I held on to the rope and no harm came to me. My stubbornness wouldn’t let me admit to you that I couldn’t swim. What happened wasn’t your fault.”
“Yes, it was. I forced you to fight. It was all my fault.” His husky, sorrowful words made her stare at him in amazement. If this was the real Douglas Kincaid, she had cruelly misjudged him before.
“El, I’m so sorry.” He cupped her face with one hand and kissed her lightly on the forehead. He was trembling as much as she was, Elgiva discovered. He rested his cheek against her hair. She felt the anguished rise and fall of his chest.
Confusion muddled her already stunned mind. Affection and tenderness grew inside her. “Oh, dear man,” she whispered brokenly. “What are you doing to me?”
“Trying to ask you to forgive me.” He stroked her hair with a gentle, endearingly clumsy hand. “Please forgive me. I would never have left you in the lagoon if I’d known that you couldn’t swim.”
Elgiva placed her fingertips against his mouth. “Don’t you think I knew that at the time? Of course I forgive you.” Tears burned her eyes. “You can’t understand why I won’t stop fighting you, and I can’t understand why you have to have control.”
Her burr became thicker, her voice a hoarse, pleading rasp. “Faith, Douglas, you and I willna ever compromise. Go ahead and buy the estate and then let me go. I canna be with you like this. It’s tearing me apart.”
He took her in his arms and buried his face in the crook of her neck. Elgiva cried out at the undisguised torment in him. This was not the Douglas Kincaid who prided himself on control. Her hands shaking, she slid them up and down his back in a comforting gesture.
“The estate is yours. I won’t buy it,” he murmured thickly. “I swear.”
She gasped and began to cry. “Dear man, please don’t say that if it’s not true. Oh, Douglas.” She stroked him with desperate little movements of her hands.
His arms tightened around her convulsively. “I swear it,” he promised. “I want you and your brother to have what should have been yours. I know how much it means to you, how much the people who live there mean to you. I’ve just been too damned stubborn to admit that sometimes sentiment is all that’s important.”
“Oh, Douglas.” She struggled to put a bit of space between them, his fervent embrace making her breathless, and wound her hands under his chin. Gently she lifted his head. Her mind whirling with impossible hopes, she kissed him deeply.
She pushed his robe from his shoulders and caressed the bared skin of his powerful shoulders and back. Slowly he moved the covers away from her. He got on his knees and pulled her nightgown down gracefully. “Wouldn’t want to tear it,” he noted quaintly.
Elgiva laughed in broken, giddy delight, tears streaming from the corners of her eyes as he pressed her to the bed and kissed her body, drawing excitement through her veins with each slow, tantalizing movement.
Her hands found the smooth silk of the pajamas covering his legs and gloried in the hard, tightly packed muscle underneath. He made erotic, half-growling sounds in the back of his throat, but they were also gentle. When he parted her thighs and gave her the same uninhibited loving that he’d given once before, she sank her hands into his hair and tossed helplessly, wanting the sensations to go on forever.
“El,” he whispered raggedly, as his hands coaxed even more response from her. Her moans brought him to her hurriedly, and she stripped the pajamas down his thighs. Every move he made was laced with vibrant emotion; his hands never stopped roaming over her, and when he thrust into her, his caring touch had made her ready.
Later they lay in a silent, sweet trance, his body heavy and possessive atop hers. The love she felt was rich and full and able to daydream about a future with him.
She kissed his neck as he gathered her hair into a soft pillow for his head. His breath was warm and contented on her shoulder; he began to taste her skin with small flicks of his tongue, making her shiver in delight.
He and she kissed slowly, with great tenderness. Her breath feathering in her lungs, Elgiva floated from sensation to sensation, loving the taste of his mouth, flavored with good Casner’s Scotch.
When they stopped kissing and looked at each other, they both smiled. “You’re glowing in the dark,” he murmured.
“Aye. So are you.”
“Are you sure you’re all right after what happened at the lagoon?”
“Aye. Just a little waterlogged.”
“How about taking a swim in a safer—and smaller—body of water?”
“Well, if you’re there with me, certainly.”
He began to laugh under his breath, sounding very happy. Charmed and curious, Elgiva caressed him with greedy hands.
“Stop, you insatiable fairy,” he whispered. “Come with me.” Standing, he wavered, grabbed both her hands in joyful and reckless abandon, and tugged. She bounced out of bed and hugged him, snuggling her belly against his already reviving arousal.
He chortled and led her outdoors into the moonlight. The Jacuzzi waited there, and she yipped when he picked her up and placed her in the tepid, still water. He switched on the heater and jets, then climbed in beside her.
The combination of the sultry night and Douglas’s warm body soon made the heater seem unnecessary. With the water bubbling against her below and Douglas kissing her above—not to mention what his hands were doing—she unwound completely.
She had never known such hypnotic pleasure existed; such perfect harmony inside herself because love and desire spiraled together. And the suggestions he was murmuring to her! Even the thought of them was wildly exciting. He didn’t know that he was offering exotic candies to a woman who’d never even sampled sugar. She heard her voice answering him through a haze of passion. Could we? Would you? I’d love to.
The moon moved across the sky. The night birds stopped singing to listen to the soft symphony of masculine and feminine moans that floated from the balcony. The darkness grew deeper, more private.
Before she fell blissfully asleep with her head pillowed on Douglas’s shoulder, laying beside him on the mattress he’d dragged outside in a particularly inspired moment, Elgiva smiled to herself.
Douglas Kincaid ha
d proved himself worthy of legends.
Elgiva kept very still in the swimming pool, glad to feel its pretty blue tiles securely beneath her feet. She smiled down at Douglas, who was floating on his back with his head in her arms. His eyes were well shaded from the sun by her bare breasts.
“I hope you’re right about this technique curing your hangover,” she said drolly.
He chuckled, the sound muffled against the underside of one breast. “If nothing else, it makes recovery a helluva lot of fun.”
He nuzzled the sensitive skin with his lips, and Elgiva sighed in delight. The world was full of vibrant sensations; she was surrounded and filled by ethereal beauty. Shade trees drooped across the pool’s rustic stone apron. They dappled sunlight over the white lounge chairs and the swimsuits she and Douglas had discarded soon after they were alone inside the tall, whitewashed walls of the enclosure.
This was Douglas’s private area, completely sequestered, with a breezy little cabana of pearl-gray stone at one end. They’d eaten lunch there, sitting close together at a beautiful table the servants had set up before their arrival. Eating lunch naked had been another new experience for Elgiva. Especially dessert.
She stroked a hand across Douglas’s chest and admired his body with glowing approval. Given the opportunity, he was as expert as relaxing as he was at mastering other skills. His muscular arms floated peacefully by his sides and his legs rode the crystal-blue water like graceful, though hairy, schooners.
He was tantalizing her deliberately, she was certain, by letting his legs drift apart. She loved his bawdiness, and she had fun admiring him. The parts below the waterline were handsome, but the parts above were awe inspiring.
“I like the islands you make,” she told him. She could feel him smiling against her breasts. “Oh, my. Look what my kind words have done. I believe one island is having a slight earthquake.”
“That island is a volcano.”
“Dangerous?”
“You might look at it that way.”
“Perhaps I should take a closer look.” Sliding her hands under him, she kept his body still as she moved down his side. It was thrilling to think about the intimacies she wanted to share with him. It was also worrisome.
He’d given her a great deal of unselfish attention last night and this morning; he’d taken the initiative in his gentle, confident way. She worried that he might discover her naiveté if she didn’t make some bold moves in return. How could she keep him if she weren’t as sophisticated as his petite, blond candidates for wifehood?
She didn’t quite know how to announce her intentions. Douglas, I want to capture your Loch Ness monster? No, that wouldn’t do. Elgiva shut her eyes and blurted, “I think I’d better do something to please the angry volcano spirits.”
“Oh, El.” His voice was thick with anticipation. “You’re a terrific mind reader.”
So he had been wondering when she’d do more than just ogle him with adoring eyes. Elgiva nodded to herself. When she wanted to learn a new style of weaving or knitting, she simply attacked it with fervent enthusiasm.
So that was how she attacked Douglas now.
He gave a garbled yelp of pain and surprise, then lurched upright in the water. Elgiva lost her balance and fell over. Quickly he pulled her back. Coughing and sputtering, she stared at his grim expression.
“That wasn’t funny, El. I thought we were making love, not playing stupid pranks.”
She was beyond embarrassment. She wanted to evaporate. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’m sorry.” Further explanations stuck inside her throat. The humiliation was too great. She turned away quickly and splashed water on her superheated face. Her body felt rigid, as if it had become a shield.
“What made you think I’d like to be gnawed like an ear of corn?” he asked, sounding puzzled and exasperated.
“I’m very sorry. I won’t do it again, I promise.”
“Why did you do it in the first place?”
She cupped water to her face, washing away tears of angry self-defense. How could she have known what to do? She’d never had a chance to learn!
“I said I’m sorry, Douglas. Could you just be quiet about it?” She heard the sorrowful tremor in her voice and swallowed hard. “Damn.”
Suddenly he moved close behind her. His hands clasped her shoulders, squeezing firmly but gently. “I think you need to explain to me,” he murmured, and his voice was now soothing. “I have plenty of suspicions anyway. So you might as well confirm them.”
She groaned in dismay. “Och! I thought I was doing so well! I should have just taped a great huge sign on my forehead! ‘Beware! Bad Lover!’ ”
“El, El, sssh,” he chastised softly. His hands slid back and forth. “You’re wonderful. But I realized even when we were in Scotland that you’ve got more enthusiasm than know-how.”
“Aye,” she said bitterly, nodding. “And the lack is more obvious than I thought.”
“There’s only one reason why a sexy, loving woman would feel awkward after twelve years of marriage.” He put his arms around her and rested his cheek against the back of her head. “Jonathan must not have given you much opportunity to practice.”
Her shoulders slumped. “I don’t want to speak ill of him. He was good to me in so many ways.”
“This will be our secret, El. I don’t want to gossip about Jonathan’s faults; I’m just trying to understand you and help you feel better.” He turned her around and pulled her head to his shoulder. With his arms around her snugly he whispered, “You’re fantastic, El. What you don’t know I can teach you. I’ve never been happier or more satisfied. I hope you feel the same way.”
“Oh, yes,” she nearly moaned, the words inadequate. “But I can’t keep on upsetting you with my mistakes.”
He squeezed her in mild rebuke. “No pain, no gain, I always say. And I love a challenge.”
Elgiva chuckled wearily. “You could end up with permanent scars on your volcano.”
“There’s a lot more to me than Mount Vesuvius.”
“I know, dear man, but I want to be good to every part of you.”
He kissed her. Elgiva hugged him and said with painful slowness, “I’ll tell you what I was used to, Douglas. I’ll tell you.” She looked away from the bittersweet compassion in his eyes, struggling to keep her voice casual. “On our wedding night Jonathan said to me, ‘Ellie, be still, now. This will just take a minute.’ And … that’s all it took.”
“Oh, El.”
“And that was more or less his attitude for the next dozen years. He’d say, ‘Ellie, pull your gown up, would you?’ Or ‘Ellie, I’ve got a little problem that’s keeping me awake.’ Those were his ways of politely asking permission. I suppose they give you a pretty accurate picture of what followed afterward.”
“Yes. Sweet doll, I’m sorry,” Douglas whispered. He shook his head. His dark eyes were remorseful. “You went from polite sex with a mild-mannered husband to being leered at by a wild-tempered stranger. No wonder you were threatened by me up in Scotland.”
“Not threatened. Overwhelmed. There were times when I thought the bars of your cell were going to melt from the look in your eyes when you watched me. But before long I was begging them to melt.”
Douglas trailed his fingers down her back, then cupped her rump in his hands. He lifted her against him. She chuckled at the exaggerated lechery in his arched brows and wicked expression.
He carried her into shallower water. “Listen to your professor, you big bonnie lass, and you’ll learn everything you always wanted to know. First I’ll teach you to tame the volcano. Next I’ll teach you to swim.”
“Swim? What does that have to do with making love?”
He winked at her. “It all depends on how you learn to stroke.”
“Faith!” she exclaimed softly, and kissed him.
The little things made him love her more. Her guilt-free enjoyment of food. The cozy way she shared his toothbrush and scratched his back and purred like a b
ig, happy cat when he painted her toenails. The fact that she didn’t pretend to understand high finance but wasn’t shy about telling him her ideas about running a small business.
He loved her for the cutthroat way she played Monopoly. She built up the block around Park Place and gleefully charged him exorbitant rents when he landed there. He loved her for her refusal to feel sorry for herself because she’d missed out on attending college. He loved her for being proud of what she was, and for knowing what she was, and for knowing what she wanted from life.
Unfortunately, what she wanted was to go back to Scotland.
It wasn’t that she said anything specific; it was the way she talked about her apartment, and her shop, and the village, and MacRoth Hall, which she was anxious to see now that it was definitely going to belong to her and her brother.
Douglas wondered how difficult it would be to coax her into living elsewhere in the world. He wanted to talk about the future, but he forced himself to wait. Her new trust was too fragile; he’d give her time to believe in him without any misgivings. After all she’d suffered in her marriage, he was afraid that she’d balk at any mention of commitment. For the first time in his life, he was content, and complete, and patient.
And afraid that he was going to lose her because of it.
When they woke up the next morning they were, as usual, halfway to making love. It was fantastic to feel her sleepy mouth nuzzling his and her body already responding to his hands.
Afterward, she lay on top of him with her knees hugging his sides and her arms wound under his neck. “Very instrrructive,” she cooed. Her accent always deepened when she was happy.
Douglas kissed the tip of her nose. “How would you like to leave for London in a couple of hours?”
“Just like that? You make it sound like a jaunt to the village store.”
“It is. We’ll take the helicopter over to St. Thomas, then climb aboard my jet. We’ll watch a few movies, eat some wonderful food, take a nap, and voilà! We’re in London.”