little lass when she looks like our countess yonder. She’s Delilah, Jezebel, or anyone else you please all rolled into one, but whatever you call her, I call her trouble. You wait and see if I’m not right.”
As they went off to their cramped quarters to get what sleep they could, they took Smith’s words with them. He was not a talker and seldom gave unsolicited advice, but when he did speak, it paid to listen.
Chapter 6
The sound that woke Summer was slight, the whisper of stockinged feet moving across the floor, but her heart almost jumped into her throat.
“Who’s there?” she called, hoping desperately no one would answer.
“I am.” The reply was immediate. “Who did you expect?” It was Brent’s voice.
“I didn’t expect anybody,” Summer responded, too relieved to be angry. “What are you doing here?”
“Where else should I be? It’s my cabin.”
“I don’t care where you go just as long as you leave the minute you find what you’re after.”
“I know exactly where it is.” His voice was unusually tense, and his hands shook slightly as he lighted a small bedside lamp.
The tiny flame illuminated his quarters with a soft shadowy light. Pieces of furniture stood in relief like ghostly bodies casting impenetrable black shadows behind them, and the rich brown and polished-copper tones of the cabin glowed with a luminous warmth that seemed to make them pulse with life. Summer had never seen anything so eerie. She huddled down under the covers.
Brent took off his coat, folded it carefully, and put it away. He did the same with his waistcoat. The ribbon that held his hair in place was rudely cast to the floor, as was the crumpled but still-snowy white cravat. Summer watched as if hypnotized as he unbuttoned his shirt, stripped it off, and cast it into the same pile. Then he sat down to take off his shoes, and she was once more lost in admiration of the play of muscles over his chest and across his shoulders. Even in the dim light, she could easily see the rippling rhythm of his massive sinews.
Her earlier sense of excitement began to steal over her again. She wiggled in the bed, unable to be still, yet incapable of taking her eyes off the man before her. Brent tossed his shoes into a corner and pulled off his long calf-clinging hose. He then flexed his toes, glad to be freed of the confines of shoes and hose. Summer had never really looked at a man’s feet before, and she was surprised to find that such a humble member of the body could be so attractive. They were long feet, a little on the narrow side, but strong and supple.
No concrete images took shape in Summer’s brain; her mind was too untutored to be able to give shape and form to her instincts, so she let her thoughts wander along uncharted paths, carried on by a sense of anticipation and pleasurable discovery. But her daydream came to an abrupt halt when Brent stood up and began to unlace his pants.
“What are you doing?” she cried, jerked out of her pleasant fantasy with a suddenness that was physically painful. “Stop! Don’t you dare do that!”
He paid no attention, but undid the last button and stepped out of his pants. Summer dived under the covers with a muffled shriek.
“Do you hide every time Gowan undresses?” Brent asked. “It must get awfully tiring.”
Summer didn’t answer. The tumultuous sensations coursing through her body so confused her brain that her thoughts made no sense.
“Where should I undress if not in my own quarters?” Brent asked as he shed his last piece of clothing.
“You should undress where you’re going to sleep,” Summer stammered.
“I am doing that.”
Summer’s whole world began to disintegrate; nothing related to anything as it should anymore, and she felt herself being drawn into an enormous maelstrom, against her will.
“But there’s only one bed,” she said, trying valiantly to keep a grasp on reality.
“That’s all we need,” Brent replied, and Summer
As they went off to their cramped quarters to get what sleep they could, they took Smith’s words with them. He was not a talker and seldom gave unsolicited advice, but when he did speak, it paid to listen.
Chapter 6
The sound that woke Summer was slight, the whisper of stockinged feet moving across the floor, but her heart almost jumped into her throat.
“Who’s there?” she called, hoping desperately no one would answer.
“I am.” The reply was immediate. “Who did you expect?” It was Brent’s voice.
“I didn’t expect anybody,” Summer responded, too relieved to be angry. “What are you doing here?”
“Where else should I be? It’s my cabin.”
“I don’t care where you go just as long as you leave the minute you find what you’re after.”
“I know exactly where it is.” His voice was unusually tense, and his hands shook slightly as he lighted a small bedside lamp.
The tiny flame illuminated his quarters with a soft shadowy light. Pieces of furniture stood in relief like ghostly bodies casting impenetrable black shadows behind them, and the rich brown and polished-copper tones of the cabin glowed with a luminous warmth that seemed to make them pulse with life. Summer had never seen anything so eerie. She huddled down under the covers.
Brent took off his coat, folded it carefully, and put it away. He did the same with his waistcoat. The ribbon that held his hair in place was rudely cast to the floor, as was the crumpled but still-snowy white cravat. Summer watched as if hypnotized as he unbuttoned his shirt, stripped it off, and cast it into the same pile. Then he sat down to take off his shoes, and she was once more lost in admiration of the play of muscles over his chest and across his shoulders. Even in the dim light, she could easily see the rippling rhythm of his massive sinews.
Her earlier sense of excitement began to steal over her again. She wiggled in the bed, unable to be still, yet incapable of taking her eyes off the man before her. Brent tossed his shoes into a corner and pulled off his long calf-clinging hose. He then flexed his toes, glad to be freed of the confines of shoes and hose. Summer had never really looked at a man’s feet before, and she was surprised to find that such a humble member of the body could be so attractive. They were long feet, a little on the narrow side, but strong and supple.
No concrete images took shape in Summer’s brain; her mind was too untutored to be able to give shape and form to her instincts, so she let her thoughts wander along uncharted paths, carried on by a sense of anticipation and pleasurable discovery. But her daydream came to an abrupt halt when Brent stood up and began to unlace his pants.
“What are you doing?” she cried, jerked out of her pleasant fantasy with a suddenness that was physically painful. “Stop! Don’t you dare do that!”
He paid no attention, but undid the last button and stepped out of his pants. Summer dived under the covers with a muffled shriek.
“Do you hide every time Gowan undresses?” Brent asked. “It must get awfully tiring.”
Summer didn’t answer. The tumultuous sensations coursing through her body so confused her brain that her thoughts made no sense.
“Where should I undress if not in my own quarters?” Brent asked as he shed his last piece of clothing.
“You should undress where you’re going to sleep,” Summer stammered.
“I am doing that.”
Summer’s whole world began to disintegrate; nothing related to anything as it should anymore, and she felt herself being drawn into an enormous maelstrom, against her will.
“But there’s only one bed,” she said, trying valiantly to keep a grasp on reality.
“That’s all we need,” Brent replied, and Summer
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