My Forbidden Mentor (15 page)

She witnessed Robert’s wicked, matchmaking grin. “Robert Gibson, you’ll pay for this!”

He didn’t respond right away to her playful threat. He wanted her to ponder on it awhile, think about the right thing to do. He was about to reply when Miss Beckett came down the stairs lugging a couple of bags.

She entered the doorway of the sitting room, dropped her bags, and went over to Melissa to hug her goodbye. She lifted away and made a request. “Knowing that Lord Blackburn will be caring for you, would you mind if I take a week’s time to be gone?”

Initially Melissa did not want to agree, but for her auntie’s sake she did. “Of course. Take all the time you need. I’ll be fine.”

“Bless you, love. One week’s time should be enough.” Miss Beckett started looking around the room as if taking inventory. “Oh, I’ve prepared some food. You should be all right.”

After placing a kiss on her cheek Melissa chuckled at her auntie’s mothering ways. “I’ll be fine. Now get going so you’re not late.”

Miss Beckett smiled. “All right, love. Be good.” She went to lift her bags but Robert took them from her and carried them to his carriage. Miss Beckett started to follow Robert when she remembered something. “Oh, Melissa love, there’s some soup on the stove ready to eat.”

“Goodbye, auntie. I love you.”

She watched her aunt’s stout little body turn and leave. Leaning over she grabbed another cake, biting into it as she heard the carriage leaving. Her throat tightened when trying to gulp down the delicious treat as anxious feelings started dominating her body. Being alone hadn’t distressed her as much as the thought of John stopping by. Together they would be alone.

The plan was to talk. She would even make him supper and surprise him, then they could talk some more and he would be on his way. She rose off the couch and decided to heat up the soup that was already prepared. She had a clumsy shift in her step when trailing to the kitchen. John had been right. She had pushed her leg too far too soon. As long as she took it easy she could rest again. All she needed to do was warm up the soup.

Not only was there hot soup simmering on the stove, the cabin itself had been whipped into shape. Blankets were folded and placed in a neat pile. Supplies left by her aunt were picked up and put away. The dining table held two candles casting a glow of light across their best dishware. There was a cup of tea for her and a glass of brandy for him, and with everything else shimmering, Melissa had chosen to wear one of her mother’s evening dresses. Her parents’ room being downstairs invited the perfect opportunity. She selected a longtime favorite, a satin evening dress the shade of blushing carnations adorning a trim of snowy white ruffles. Putting it on, Melissa transformed into an ambience of femininity laced with elegance.

John finished settling his mare in the Howard’s barn. Sliding his leather pouch over his shoulder he strode to the front door. He started to knock and then thought it would be less hassle if he just let himself in. Melissa would be expecting him.

Upon entering her home an appetizing aroma filled his nostrils. He strolled to the doorway of the sitting room and when he didn’t see her, he continued to the kitchen. On his way a glint of burning light caught his attention. He stopped to observe the dining table. His mouth curved upward. What kind of plans had she for them? This was unexpected.

Approaching the kitchen doorway he had to suppress a groan that threatened to make his presence known. There she stood, wearing a light cherry colored dress that cascaded around her like she was an angel as she stirred whatever it was that she was cooking. Her hair lay loose down her back, sparkling like solid gold. He ached because he was already aware of how soft it was, remembering how it had slipped through his fingers as he was caressing it.

A familiar presence taunted her. She breathed in a whiff of a familiar scent, a masculine, forested scent that made her body flush. He was here, she sensed it, and she found she’d been correct after turning her focus onto the most handsome man she’d ever known. Oh dear, she wished he’d stop looking at her like that. The gaze he gave could make her forget about supper, forget about the talk, forget everything except him and diving into his luscious world.

His eyes lit up as his mouth gave her a grin that sent a spark of heat to the feminine core of her being. Her body had recalled his touch and all it required was that look he presented.

“I see you’re making supper for us?” he asked out of hope, enjoying her cheerful disposition. Earlier when Robert had approached him about Melissa, telling him how she’d be alone for a week, he hadn’t hesitated. His doubts were dealing with her sour temper, especially when he’d let her know he’d be staying with her until her aunt returned.

Her smile held promise of a generous mood. “Yes, for us. It isn’t anything fancy, I have to warn you.” She scooped a spoonful. “Come taste it for me.”

He wasn’t about to let the opportunity of closeness go by. Stepping in her direction, he stopped before her and opened his mouth. She lifted on her good leg to feed him.

On purpose he sipped in slow deliberation from the spoon. His lips were wet and his tongue licked at the wetness. He watched her dip the spoon in nervous anticipation back into the soup. “Tastes good,” he told her, reminiscing about the time they had spent in the barn almost a month ago.

His motions were personal. How could they not be, licking his mouth the way he had? “You like it then?” She wouldn’t look at him as she asked. Her hand on the wooden spoon kept stirring the well-stirred soup.

He slid the strap of his pouch off his shoulder, holding it gathered in his hand. “Yes, very much,” he told her as his stare lingered a second longer before he shifted to walk out of the kitchen.

Noticing his movements and now glancing at the back of his form, the leather pouch stood out. As he went to turn the corner of the kitchen doorway she inquired. “John?”

His stride halted. “Yes?” he responded, turning toward her.

“What is the pouch for?” she asked, pointing at it.

He was about to diffuse her joyous mood. “It holds my belongings.”

“Pardon me?” It sounded like he planned on staying awhile.

“You heard me,” he told her in defense.

Her mouth fell open. Setting the spoon down, she hobbled over to him with her arms crossed over her chest. “Let me clarify the plan for you, then. You were to check on me periodically, perhaps come by once a day and make sure I’m still alive,” she informed him and couldn’t help the sarcasm.

He stepped back into the kitchen, coming closer to her, and threw an all-knowing smile her way. “The plans have changed. I have free time so I’m staying here twenty-four hours a day, every day, until your aunt returns.” She was about to speak when he cut her off. “That way I can be sure you’ll stay alive.” He didn’t wait for her response. He thought he’d made himself quite clear.

After he left, she stomped her foot into the hardwood floor. Frustration commanded her to do so. Not a moment later she was sorry she gave in to that frustration for it was her bad leg that did the stomping. The first half of a painful yell emerged before her hand could cover her mouth in time. She counted to five, knowing John would be there before reaching six.

Sure enough. “What happened?” he asked, his eyes widened in alarm.

She tried her hardest, with gritted teeth, not to reach for her leg with him standing there. She couldn’t answer him right away because of the pain shooting through her calf.

He stepped closer. “What happened?” This time his eyes showed concern and his tone lowered a notch.

“I stmpd th grnd wth my bad lg,” she muffled through slender fingers, her eyes watering from the pain she withheld.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t get that.” he moved his ear toward her mouth, using his hand to fan behind it.

Her eyes molded to his profile. Even that part of him was stunning. Her hand ripped away from her mouth and she spoke into his ear. “I said, I stomped the ground with my bad leg.”

His face turned into hers. “Because you were upset with me, right?” he said and his deep, calculating voice consumed her, being that close.

“Yes,” she hissed back. Unaware of his intentions her body was swept up and she was carried to a chair at the dining table.

John arranged another chair adjacent to hers so she could elevate her sore leg. She started to protest when he said he would serve supper. Ignoring her, he proceeded.

With soup, bread and drinks before them, John couldn’t help but comment. “Damn, you’re stubborn,” he said, giving a shake of his head.

She leaned across the table toward him. “Yes I’m stubborn. I have to be to deal with your overbearing ways.”

“I think you’ve twisted things a bit here, sweetheart. Maybe your stubbornness brings out my overbearing nature,” he responded and began eating, essentially ending that part of their conversation.

They were quiet during supper but both ate and drank with renewed enthusiasm. When John began clearing the table Melissa figured this was as good a time as any to confess. It took three attempts before words could come out of her mouth.

By the time she found the courage to talk to him he’d sat down and was sipping his drink. Good, she thought, his glass is half empty. He’ll be more relaxed now. “John, I have a confession to make.”

His eyes lifted from his motion of swirling the amber liquid around to find her focus on him serious. “Yes.”

It was easier talking to him when he wasn’t watching her with in-depth concentration. How to begin? “On the day of the accident involving my leg, I never told you the reason,” she cleared her throat and tried again. “The reason I ran away from your manor as I did.” He continued to listen while his eyes were peering into hers. “I had been waiting for your return when I decided to venture to your library.” He didn’t move a muscle. “When I approached the closed doors of the library I heard voices from inside.” A hand came up to shield her eyes from his with her fingers rubbing into her forehead. “A man and a woman’s voice,” she mumbled and waited, hoping he’d already figured out what she was trying to tell him.

“So?” he said shrugging his shoulders and thinking nothing of it.

She hadn’t given enough detail. “Well, they were talking, or more like groaning, to each other.”

“What?” He thought it over and then started to chuckle. “You must have heard Robert and Rose. They’re the only two I would ever allow that kind of freedom in my home.”

He still hadn’t caught on. “I realize that now, John, but at the time . . .” She didn’t need to finish when his eyes grew bold and the peek of a grin stole across his mouth.

“Are you telling me that you thought it was me in the library with another woman?” he asked.

He almost sounded excited by her mistake. “All I heard was groaning. I couldn’t tell otherwise. I was at your manor,” she cried, set back that he could be so indifferent to the situation.

In a matter of seconds he apologized. “Forgive me. I didn’t mean to upset you. Again,” he added. Her jealousy flattered him. So, she did have a stronger attraction than close friendship toward him. Yes, very flattering indeed. He pondered instead of giving further response and hadn’t noticed his preoccupation until his gleaming eyes found her observing him with dismay.

Her eyes narrowed on him. Why couldn’t they agree on something? “I knew you would react differently than I expected. I’m trying to apologize for my behavior of late, but you cause me to be so annoyed I can’t think straight.”

His tone softened with sincerity. “Melissa, thank you for telling me the truth,” he said and her response was to roll her eyes at him. “I mean it.”

Lifting her achy leg from the extra chair she steadied both feet and stood. Looking at him now her anger began diffusing and all of a sudden those nervous, odd sensations came back. Her body grew warmer as he perused her at a leisurely pace through black velvet lashes.

Being alone with him made it very tempting to give in to the desires he fired in her. Nakedness came to mind under his scrutinizing eyes that feasted on her. Feeling uncomfortable, she couldn’t take his seductive glare any longer. “Can’t you say something and stop staring at me like you’re going to eat me alive?” she said, standing straight and proud.

As if reading her mind, he was presumptuous, tilting his head to the side. “Is that an offer?” his silky voice asked without shame.

At his words her glance fell to his fingers holding the glass, remembering the way they’d brought pleasure to her body, causing her to flush and heed a familiar sensitivity she got only around John. The need to gain control came on like a rampage. Their situation needed resolution now that the truth had been revealed regarding the accident. “What about the agreement you put off in Dublin?” she asked, ignoring his implied question.

The stare of his eyes reflected into hers, not with anger but with careful consideration. An extended moment passed before he replied, “I’m tired of making agreements with you. They don’t work between us. It’s time to face reality Melissa and forget about damned agreements,” he told her in an aggravated tone because he was starting to care too much for this independent young lass, and worse, his lust for her was reaching arresting proportions. To him they were meant to be lovers. It was time, way past time, to discover each other intimately.