Enchanting the Beast, page 17
The cool liquid swirled around her, making the contrast of the heat of his body whenever he touched her a shock by comparison. Phil pressed her breasts against his mouth, demanding more, and he obliged, taking her peaks into his mouth and suckling until she threw her head back with a moan. A raindrop pelted her forehead, a shock of cold that added to the torrent of sensations that shook her body.
He slid her up and down his shaft and she felt her slick inner heat making the contact slippery. Phil instantly wanted him inside of her. She caught his face between her hands and he lowered her until she could reach his mouth. She boldly swept her tongue inside, showing him what she desperately craved.
He pulled back and looked into her eyes. “I’m sorry, Phil, but I’ve waited a week for this. And it felt like a lifetime. I can’t wait any longer.”
Nico lowered her onto his shaft with a swiftness that took her breath away. Then his firm hands squeezed her bottom, and he lifted her. The rain came down in earnest then, pelting their heads and faces, and Nico copied the rhythm of the storm. Phil held on for dear life, the sky pounding her from above and Nico pounding her from below. The force of her body shattering with pleasure took her by surprise and she screamed his name, the wind drowning her cry and carrying it away.
Nico thrust deeply inside her and stayed there, his body rocking as wave after wave of release made him crush her to him. Phil felt a deeper response tighten all her muscles with a low throb of gratification.
He whispered her name in her ear and kissed her then, a mingling of rainwater and heat and the taste of Nico.
“It’s raining,” she shouted over the sudden boom of thunder.
“You don’t say.” His lip quirked and he gave her one last kiss on the forehead before he waded to shore. Phil’s legs were still wrapped around his, and when they emerged from the water she felt the pull of gravity and dropped them. She wobbled for a moment, then spied her clothing, and sprinted forward.
Sopping wet.
Then Nico took the clothes from her, picked up his own sodden pile, and headed for a willow tree. Phil followed, blinking against the rain in her eyes, goose bumps rising on her flesh. He held open the branches and she crawled inside, flushing as she realized he had quite a view of her bare bottom.
The sheltering branches of the tree muted the storm outside and the moss felt dry beneath her feet. Despite the close air, Phil shivered. Nico ducked back outside and returned with two gorchid petals. He shook off the rain and placed the largest on the ground, and Phil settled herself on top of it. It felt like padded velvet. Then Nico wrapped the smaller petal around her shoulders.
“Better?”
Phil smiled and nodded.
“I’m taking our clothes to another tree to spread them out to dry. And then I’m going to bring us some food. I worked up quite an appetite.” He laughed when Phil blushed, kissing her rosy cheek before venturing out into the rain again. Apparently the elements didn’t bother him as much as they did Phil. He was probably used to it.
Phil tucked up her legs and huddled inside the gorchid petal, wondering what on earth he might bring them to eat. She hadn’t the stomach for raw meat, couldn’t be sure that she’d be able to get used to it. Loving Nico would not always be easy.
Botheration. She couldn’t be in love with him. She must not allow herself to think that way because her heart wouldn’t be able to stand the pain when she returned to London.
Phil’s eyes widened as a sudden realization hit her and she clutched the petal closer. He hadn’t pulled out of her when he’d found his release. She had a dreadful image of standing in a church with her belly bulging in her wedding gown and Nico reluctantly reciting his vows, the black shadow of his wolf looming over him.
But she hadn’t given it a thought while they had been making love. It appeared that neither of them had had the good sense to at least try to be careful. They couldn’t risk it again.
Nico ducked into the shelter, his body gleaming slickly with rain. Phil closed her eyes against the sight.
“Aren’t you hungry?” he said. She heard him crouch next to her and she opened her eyes to see what he offered. Nico held out a shiny green leaf laden with berries and some pale pink fruit. “Granafruit. Try it.”
Phil’s stomach rumbled, and she picked up the fruit and bit into it. The tartly sweet flavor exploded in her mouth. “It’s delicious.”
He settled beside her, picking up one for himself. “It only grows in this forest. I often wonder who cultivated it.” Then he shrugged, and they both ate in companionable silence, the storm outside shaking the branches, making the tiny green lights dance around them.
Phil licked her fingers, her stomach full. “How long do you suppose it will take our clothes to dry?”
He gave her a hooded look. “Until the rain lets up we should stay put. Are you anxious to get away from me, Phil?”
The intimate way he said her name made her heart flutter. “Yes. I mean, no. It’s just difficult to speak with you when you’re not wearing anything.”
“Is it, now?” His voice lowered suggestively. She shivered and he frowned. “You’re still cold.” He moved next to her, wrapping his arm around her shoulders, pulling her into his warmth. “Better?”
Certainly not, but she wouldn’t admit to why. He tucked her head under his chin and smoothed a damp strand of her hair between his fingers. “I missed you.”
He meant the last week, when he’d barely said a word to her. Phil sighed. “You came to your senses and realized you’d made a grave mistake. What I don’t understand is why you changed your mind and brought me here today.”
She felt his muscles clench.
“Is that what you think?”
“Of course.” Phil closed her eyes, memorizing the feel of his smooth skin next to her, knowing that she’d never experience this pleasure again. “We’re playing with fire, Nico. The longer we continue this affair, the more complicated it will get.”
“You’re probably right.”
Phil’s heart dropped and she chided herself for a fool. And then he spoke again.
“That’s why I think you should marry me.”
She froze. “We can’t. Oh, Nico, can’t you see into our future a bit? You need a younger woman, someone like Jane, who can bear you lots of children and—”
“Enough.” He pulled away from her and clasped his large hand under her jaw, making her look at him. “I’ve done nothing else the entire week but think about our future. I’ve turned it around in my head every way I could, but the only thing I come back to is that I can’t imagine a future without you.”
“You’re confusing lust with love.”
“The hell I am. I just don’t want one without the other. I admit that at first I thought that what I felt for you was nothing but a physical attraction. And then we made love and it confused the hell out of me. It took me nearly a week to realize what had happened. Damnation, Phil, don’t you see how perfect we are for each other? I was engaged to a young, silly, flighty woman. You’re wise and calm and—”
“Stop.” She didn’t want to hear about his former lover. “I can’t marry you, Nico. It’s as simple as that.”
“Is it?” His mouth covered hers. She tried to pull away but he gathered her into his strong arms until she felt herself melt against him.
He pulled her down and snuggled her body against his, covering them both with the petal. The warmth made Phil’s eyes heavy, and she fell asleep to the sound of pattering rain and Nico whispering endearments in her ear.
Twelve
Phil climbed out of bed the next morning with stiff muscles and a slightly stuffy nose. She didn’t know how long she’d slept beneath the willow, but as soon as she awoke, Phil had insisted that Nico take her back to the castle. He didn’t argue, and she didn’t care for the smug smile on his face. Their clothes were still wet and cold, and the rain hadn’t stopped. Sarah had hissed at the sorry sight of the two of them when they’d returned to Grimspell. Philomena had taken her supper in her room and had had no difficulty falling right back to sleep.
Now she blinked in the morning light and peered into her mirror, grimacing at her red nose. Fortunately, she’d never been prone to sickness, so she hoped the head cold wouldn’t get any worse.
Sarah slid into the room and helped Phil dress, informing her employer that the master and his mistress were having luncheon in the pavilion.
“There’s a pavilion?”
“Yess. You musst get out of the housse more, Lady Radcliff.”
Phil bit back her reply. Whenever she’d left the house it had been with the baronet, and she’d vowed to avoid being alone with him again at all costs. She had no willpower against his seductions. One of them had to be sensible.
Phil hurried outside and stepped into bright sunshine. Last night’s storm had cleared the air for a beautiful day. She followed Sarah’s directions, taking the white-pebbled path around to the back of the castle. The forest in this area had been tamed and a manicured lawn stretched before her, filled with bushes cunningly shaped into different animals. She wondered how many of them had been modeled after the household staff.
A lovely pavilion sat nestled between two towering oaks, a rounded creation of white trellis and latticework. Manicured rosebushes surrounded it and rows of flowers had been neatly planted around them. The lawn stood in stark contrast to Nico’s secluded glade of riotous gorchids, and she thought that Edwina had likely had a hand in such obsessive tidiness.
It was still a pretty picture, and Phil slowed her walk, enjoying the warmth of the sun on her face and the swish of her skirts along the path. But she felt his eyes on her and when she neared the pavilion, Nico caught her up in his gaze. Those dark brown eyes told her how much he appreciated the way she looked in her pale blue flowing dress. The glitter of gold told her she would look even better out of it.
Philomena narrowed her eyes in warning, letting him know that she wouldn’t tolerate any of his advances. But she privately allowed herself to admire the broadness of his shoulders and the cut of his coat. The way the sunlight made his hair look like a mix of cream and coffee. How his smile made those two little dents appear near the corners of his mouth.
Nico and his brother stood as she walked up the stairs into the pavilion. Edwina ripped her eyes from Nico’s face and scowled at Phil. Her happiness from Nico’s apparent disinterest in Phil last week faded in an instant. Edwina’s nose lifted and she appeared to scent the chemistry that crackled between Nico and Phil.
Nico stepped forward and took her hand, guiding her to the empty seat next to his. She hoped that Royden and Edwina didn’t notice how natural it seemed for him to touch her now.
“Good afternoon, Lady Radcliff,” Royden said, his voice raspy and tired. “Did you enjoy our forest?”
Phil felt her cheeks get hot. Royden’s tired brown eyes held no hint of a double meaning. She studied him in concern, for he looked as though he’d aged ten years in the past week. The doctor’s potion didn’t appear to be helping him. If anything, he looked even worse.
“Your enchanted woods are fascinating. Nico took me to see the dragobirds and the stickmen’s village—”
“Ugh,” Edwina said, giving a delicate shudder. “Those nasty little things. They are forever sticking to one’s skirts. And did you encounter any of the tree nymphs? They are even worse, always pelting one with acorns.”
Royden smiled and patted his wife’s hand. “Edwina doesn’t like the forest. It’s too untamed for her.”
Nico shifted in his chair and Phil knew he interpreted a double meaning in his brother’s words. She dismissed the conversation, nodding at Cheevers as his hand hovered over the chocolate pot. The footman poured her a cup and Phil accepted it along with a plate of pasties.
“Oh, dear,” Edwina moaned, eyeing the cup of chocolate.
Phil prayed for patience.
“Lady Radcliff, are you sure you want chocolate? My mother says that once you reach a certain age, it’s best to avoid particular foods. They are a threat to one’s figure.” She smoothed her hands over the front of her corseted gown, which drew everyone’s attention to her flat belly and very tiny waist. “I don’t have to worry quite yet, of course. But Mother always has unsweetened tea.”
“That’s very wise of her, I’m sure,” Phil replied. She would not let the girl ruin her cup of chocolate. She would not let guilt… Phil took a sip. Ah, divine.
“Edwina, quit being so contrary,” Nico said. “I’m amazed that Lady Radcliff has shown such tolerance for your silliness.”
Edwina shrugged her shoulders, as if to say that she’d only been trying to help, and concentrated on her plate.
Royden sagged back in his chair. “How goes the search for our ghosts, Philomena?”
“Only too well,” she replied. “I’ve never experienced so many spirits in one location before. It’s quite odd.”
“Grimspell has a long history,” Nico said, his eyes hooded as he stared at her.
Phil carefully set down her cup. “Yes, but to have so many spirits linger is unusual.” She debated whether to tell them that all the ghosts had led her to the tunnels beneath the castle, and decided that Nico’s childhood experience would just make him overreact to the discovery. No, it would be best to see what more she could find out about the tunnels before she mentioned them again. “Royden, have you managed to find your father’s trunk yet?”
His eyes fluttered open and he frowned. “No, it’s deuced odd. I thought we had stored it at the front of the cellar room. But Dickens hasn’t been able to find it and has been forced to go farther back into the rooms than he should.”
Nico subtly shifted his chair closer to Phil’s. “So, it appears that we have another mystery to solve. I’m afraid that you may be forced to bear our company even longer, Philomena.”
He looked entirely too pleased at the prospect. Sir Nicodemus obviously had not taken her refusal of his proposal to heart. He looked determined to change her mind. But Phil had no intention of giving him the opportunity. She would go mad if she spent any more time in his company than necessary. Even now his sexual charisma had her heart pounding and her hands sweating.
Phil tried to ignore her traitorous body’s reaction to the baronet. She addressed her words to his brother. “What does your father’s trunk look like? Does it have any distinctive marks?”
“You can’t mean to search for it yourself?” said Edwina. “Why, the cellars are positively crawling with spiders and vermin.”
“I have some otherworldly help.”
“Tup?” Nico asked, his thigh rubbing against her skirts.
“Who?” Royden said, his eyes fluttering again. He seemed to be struggling to keep them open.
“You remember, Roy. At the séance? It’s her spirit guide.” Nico picked up the folds of Phil’s sleeves. “That’s a lovely dress. I don’t understand why the Pre-Raphaelites’ leanings haven’t swept London like a storm.”
Lovely dress, indeed. Phil knew very well that he had no interest in fashion whatsoever. He merely needed an excuse to fiddle with her person. And he’d emphasized the word storm, and she had no doubt he intended to remind her of yesterday’s weather, and what they had been doing in the rain. As if she needed any reminders.
Yes, she would go mad if she had to deny herself another encounter with the handsome baronet. But already she worried that they might have produced a child and it would be several weeks before she knew for sure. Any further…adventures would only increase the risk.
Now, whatever had they been discussing? Oh, yes. “The trunk, Sir Nicodemus. Can either you or Royden describe it for me?”
“It’s about so big,” Nico answered with a smile, spreading his arms wide, unconsciously showing off the breadth of his shoulders. “It has my father’s name engraved on the front of it, Sir Syrus Wulfson.”
“And it’s banded with two leather straps,” added Royden. “Do you really think a ghost will have a better chance of finding it?”
“Tup is very clever,” said Phil, feeling a smile at just the mention of his name. She wished the willow-nymph could have truly made him flesh and blood again. “He can’t read, of course, but he will be able to recognize the pattern of the letters. And he doesn’t have to shift any boxes. He can flow right through them. I think he will have a better chance—”
“Whatever is wrong with Dickens?” Edwina interrupted. “Why, his face is as red as a beet.”
Philomena watched as the portly gentleman skidded to a halt at the steps of the pavilion, gasping for breath. In his black and white suit, his human form resembled his were-penguin far too closely. Phil smothered a grin.
“Please forgive me, Sir Nicodemus.” Dickens took a kerchief from his pocket and mopped his face. “But I felt you should be warned. The magistrate is here to see you.”
“Father,” Edwina muttered. “I wonder what he wants.”
Phil tilted her head at the girl’s expression. She didn’t appear one whit pleased to see her father.
Dickens glanced at Edwina. “Your mother has also accompanied him, mistress.”
Edwina rolled her eyes.
Nico had gone quite still. “Why would it be necessary to precede their visit with a warning?”
“Quite, sir.” Dickens sucked in a few more deep breaths and shook his clothes as if smoothing his feathers. “Lord Magift is here on official business, sir. I don’t wish to upset the ladies, sir. Shall we talk privately?”
Nico glanced at Phil and Edwina. “Spit it out, man. I’m sure the ladies can endure it.”
Dickens’s voice dropped to an ominous whisper. “There’s been another murder, sir. Yesterday, sir, in the forest. Because of…well, I’m not privy to all the details, but I thought you should have some warning. Sir.”
Phil resisted the urge to dash her chocolate in the butler’s face. Why did he feel it necessary to warn Nico? Unless this murder was similar to Beatrice’s?
