Bloody Right. Georgia Evans
him, resting the flat of her hand against his chest to feel the steady rise and fall beneath her fingers. “Tell me one thing, Mary.”
She turned her head to look up at him. “What?”
“Why did you walk out on me?”
Talk about ruining the moment. Mary pulled away and sat up. The conventional prevarications like What do you mean? or I don’t know what you’re talking about stayed unsaid. She gave a little sigh. They were so close in the big armchair that they were side-by-side and thigh-to-thigh. Somehow his nearness and his wonderfulness demanded the unvarnished, unadjusted truth.
“I ran away.”
“From me?” He looked perplexed, and worried.
“Oh, no!”
“Why then? I looked everywhere for you after that ridiculous speech by Sir Gregory and couldn’t find you. I thought old Tom had walked off with you but he was busy chatting up one of the farm girls. Where the hell did you go?”
She had enough human in her to like the thought he’d searched for her, but…“It’ll sound so silly.” She repeated the woman’s comments.
“You were embarrassed by her? Silly old cow!”
Embarrassed! “Good Lord, no! I was so angry. Angry at her for even thinking, much less saying that. I wondered if everyone thought I was taking pity on a poor little cripple. Then I wondered if you believed that too. That was when I ran. I couldn’t bear the thought that you thought that too. I spent all say Sunday fuming. Poor Gloria went out with Andrew, partly, I think, to get away from the tension. She asked me what was wrong and if something was bothering me. I darn well wasn’t telling her the truth, in case she felt that way too. Then, when I saw you waiting by the playground gate I knew it wasn’t like that.”
He went quiet a minute, pulling her close so she ended up curled over his lap. “I was afraid,” he said, at last, whispering, “that you’d thought better of it and decided you didn’t want to waltz with a cripple.”
“No!” She sat up fast. “I never thought or said that and never would!”
“Well, I am, you know. A cripple.” He tapped his leg below the knee. “Hear that? It’s not flesh and blood.”
“So what?”
“So, why did you come up to me then?”
Was he fishing for compliments? Reassurance? A bit of both? She knew from her brothers how easily men’s egos got bruised. Blow it all! The truth had served so far. Might as well stay on that track. “I looked around the hall, and through a gap in the crowd, I saw you and thought…” Maybe this was going too far.
“Thought what?” He gave her a kiss on the forehead.
Might as well go for broke. “I thought you were the most interesting man I’d ever seen and I wanted to hear your voice.”
“Interesting?” He gave her a little dig in the ribs.
“Interesting and full of sex appeal.”
His laugh only added to the sex appeal. “Did my voice come up to expectations?”
“Oh! No.” She paused and sighed but had a hard time not smiling. “It far exceeded, curled my toes and made me feel warm inside.” Exactly where inside she was not sharing right now. Truth only carried one so far.
“I thought I was dreaming,” he said after her words had faded in the quiet and the only sounds were the clock on the mantelpiece and the occasional shift of a coal in the fire. “I saw this smashing looking woman. You were gorgeous. When you came toward me, I was sure you were looking for someone else. When you stopped in front of me, I thought you were going to ask me if I’d seen Tom Longhurst.”
She tried to ignore the twinge of guilt, or was it annoyance? “Why would I ask for Tom Longhurst?”
He chuckled, tightening his arm around her shoulders. “You mean you haven’t met our village heartthrob? He gets all the girls. Always did. Even the sensible ones like Alice Doyle—Alice Watson as she is now. They all fall for him—hook, line, and sinker—and now, with so many men away, he reels them in.” He smiled. “But you came and spoke to me.”
“Naturally. Tom Longhurst isn’t my sort.” Too damn full of himself for a start.
“You know him?”
“I went out with him. Once. Decided not to repeat the experience.”
Gryffyth’s shoulders stiffened and his voice took on an edge. “He hurt you? He bothered you?”
Dear heaven, he sounded ready to meet Longhurst at dawn. “No, he didn’t. I went to the flicks with him once and that was it. Just don’t fancy him. He’s not my sort.”
Gryffyth let out a belly laugh that made his chest rumble against her ear. “You mean to say, I cut in on Tom Longhurst?”
She pulled back, sat up and looked him in the eye. “Not really. He wasn’t ever in the running, although he might have thought he was.”
“Glad you picked me.”
“I’m glad you were there to pick.”
“Right!” He didn’t waste any more words, just yanked her into him, and kissed her. Several times. Kissed her with the loveliest lips she’d ever tasted. Kissed her with a wild, burning ardor that left her wanting more. Much more. And judging by the pressure against her thigh, he felt the same.
She needed more. Longed to be naked with him. To feel his warm skin against hers and his hands on her bare skin.
She’d better get herself in hand or she’d be ripping his clothes off here and now, in Gloria’s kitchen.
Still, one more kiss wouldn’t hurt. She leaned into him, tunneling her fingers through his hair and angling her body against his, and pressed her lips on his. Amazing that each kiss was wonderful and each one magically different: a wild sweetness, coupled with raw heat and need. His hand on her breast almost did her in. She wanted him, skin to skin. She’d be a wild, brainless fool to go that fast this soon. She barely knew him, but didn’t much care. She parted her legs, draping one around him, and kissed deeper. His hand pressed her breast—then, with a swift movement, was inside her cardigan, under her blouse and stroking her breast through her bra. Then, he was inside the bra, the tips of his fingers caressing her breast, stroking her nipple, and her body went wild. A fire roared inside, burning deep in her core, firing up a wild need and ache that ground into her. Body and mind. She was made for this. So was he. To have wild sex in front of Gloria’s kitchen fire.
Whoa! Not here! Upstairs. Could he manage them? Damn, she’d help him up if needed.
“Shit!” That was Gryffyth—she swore, but never that. “Damn!” He looked up as she became aware of the phone ringing in the hall. She’d been so far gone she hadn’t even heard it. “Ignore it,” he suggested.
She was sorely tempted. “I’d better answer it. It might be something urgent for Gloria.” Not that she was here. If some villager had urgent need of the district nurse they were going to be unlucky.
Mary wobbled to her feet. So, it was true about legs going like jelly. “I won’t be long.” She made it into the unheated hall, realized her blouse was hanging open and pulled her cardigan together as she picked up the receiver.
“Hello, Nurse Prewitt’s house.”
“Oh, Mary. Is Gloria there? It’s Sergeant Pendragon.”
Her faced burned as she replied. “Hello, Sergeant. Gloria’s not here.” But I am, and half naked with your son.
“I wanted to get hold of her. Know where she might be?”
“She left a note saying she was spending the evening with Andrew.”
“He doesn’t have a phone in that