Wild Lilly (25 page)

“You really think this’ll work,” she asked in a hushed voice, the memory of the Comanche woman’s stick-thin arms as she cured the buffalo hide flashing through her mind.

“I do.” He set aside his empty coffee cup and helped her down off the counter. “Now, let’s go rescue Paul and Sleeping Bear from your mother. I haven’t seen her this spun up in years. If we don’t get back soon, Sleeping Buffalo may find himself with your mother stowing away in his steamer trunk.”

Chapter Seventeen

It’s Art

Paul removed his cowboy hat and placed it on the dark wood table next to Colette’s silver tea service. Sleeping Bear wandered around the walls of the pale peach parlor, studying all the paintings. Art of every description covered the main wall in a sea of color. On the shelves around the fireplace stood statues and pottery from all over the world.

For the first time in days, Sleeping Bear was smiling. Lilly suspected he was happy to be away from her mother. He’d taken to hiding with her nieces, whenever they came for a visit, to escape Rosetta’s attentions.

“So, you are the young man Lilly’s going to marry.” Colette sipped from her tiny crystal cordial glass. Gold combs decorated with blue topaz held her white hair back in an elegant chignon. Lilly sat next to Colette on the settee, and across from Paul. His rugged good looks stood out against the mint-green silk of the sofa and she drank in the sight of him. All that masculine strength in such a delicate setting made for an interesting contrast.

“Yes, ma’am. She’s agreed to do me the honor.”

He shifted on the couch under Colette’s measuring stare. Sipping her tea, Lilly grinned at him from beneath lowered lashes. They had been able to do nothing more than steal some kisses under her mother’s watchful eye. She felt like a hedonist, but after enjoying the pleasures of his body on the train ride, she was rather unhappy at the deprivation of his touch.

Colette laughed softly and placed the cordial glass on the table. “And what about you, Sleeping Bear. What do you think of our Lilly?”

She nudged her grand-mère with her elbow, but Colette ignored her. Sleeping Bear turned reluctantly away from a watercolor of the Parisian countryside. “I think she is a brave woman with a kind heart. Much like her grandmother.”

Colette gave him a small smile and tipped her head in thanks. “Well said.” Colette toyed with her skirt and leaned forward a bit. “I was wondering if I could paint you?”

Lilly groaned and hid her face in her hands, peeking through her fingers at the men.

Sleeping Bear’s eyebrows scrunched down into a puzzled look. “You’re an artist?”

“Oh yes. Most of those watercolors are my work. My eyesight is not what it used to be, but I can still see well up close. I would be doing a character study of you. So that shouldn’t be an issue.”

Lilly lifted her head from her hands and tried to ignore the embarrassment burning her face. “What my grand-mère forgot to add is that she wants to paint you nude.”

Paul blushed and made a show of brushing imaginary lint off his hat as a smile tugged at his lips. Sleeping Bear shrugged his broad shoulders. “I wish it wasn’t so cold outside.”

Colette blinked at him and burst out laughing. A hint of the enchanting woman of her youth peeked out as she giggled. “Oh, were I forty years younger. Don’t worry. I will paint you in my solarium. It’s quite warm in there.”

Paul didn’t look up from his teacup. “Well, at least we know what to get your mother for Christmas.”

Lilly walked arm-in-arm with Paul, strolling the streets of Hartford. She wore one of her grand-mère’s thick, cashmere shawls. The weather had taken a turn while they were inside. It was amazing how different the city she grew up in looked to her as she showed it to Paul. She delighted in seeing her hometown through his eyes, and found herself getting lost in his gaze almost constantly. The thought of sharing the rest of her life with him filled her with a joy and satisfaction like she had never imagined.

“Are you sure you didn’t want to stay to watch the painting,” he asked with a teasing grin.

She snorted loudly and rolled her eyes. “I’m sure. I did watch her work with a male model once. I was spending the night when I was little and sneaked downstairs. Watching your grand-mère kiss a naked man is not something you ever want to repeat.”

“Do you think she will succeed where your mother failed?” Paul tried to keep a straight face, but a snicker escaped him.

She jerked her arm out from his and slapped her hands over her ears. “All right, can we please never ever discuss my mother’s infatuation with Sleeping Bear again? Yuck.”

Paul grinned and made a motion of sealing his lips.

She was proud to tour the street on Paul’s arm. When she was little, she always daydreamed about strolling with the perfect man, and now her dream was a reality. The women they passed gave him a lingering stare. Some even turned in their carriages as they rode by to get a better look at the handsome cowboy. If envy were acid, nothing would be left of her but the buckles on her boots.

He paused in front of a store, examining the gowns beyond the large glass window. “You would look lovely in that peach dress.”

She studied the gown. It had a princess waist and the silk shimmered in the late afternoon light. Small rows of seed pearls encircled the neckline with a soft glow. The bustle was an amazing waterfall of fabric, lush and feminine, and utterly impractical for the frontier. “It’s very pretty, but when would I wear it?”

“Our wedding?” he mused, running a hand down her cheek. His expression turned sad for a moment, before he blinked and gave her a dazzling smile.

She cupped his cheek and leaned up to give him a kiss when she noticed two curious store clerks watching them through the glass of the storefront. Tugging at his arm, she led them toward Bushnell Park. “Come on. I want to go someplace where there won’t be prying eyes.”

His gaze darkened, and he ran a hand over her nipple on the pretense of straightening her shawl. Her breath caught in her throat and her body tightened in response to his brazen display. He began to lean down to capture her lips, but she darted out from his arms.

He ran a thumb over his jaw. “Go ahead. I’ll meet you over there. I saw something I wanted to get for my brothers at the toy store.”

She gave him a heated smile. “I’ll be in the center square. Sitting by the dolphin fountain.” Her steps were light with happiness. Finally, it was her turn to sit in the park, waiting for her fiancé. And not just any man either; a wonderful, strong, handsome, and oh-so-kind man who made each day better with his mere presence.

Boot heels clicking as she crossed the cobblestones, she tugged at her shawl and nodded to a couple walking out of the garden maze. The sun was beginning to go down and the light held a golden quality. This had always been one of her favorite spots in the city, a patch of green in the middle of all the buildings and brick.

She sat on the edge of the fountain of cavorting stone dolphins and smoothed her skirts around her. The stone was cold beneath her bottom, but the water splashing over the dolphins filled the air with a soothing melody.

Her thoughts turned to Paul, again. It was just like him to buy presents for his brothers. He was going to be such a wonderful father. The thought startled her, and she grinned. Her mind conjured up an image of Paul holding her in his arms as she rocked their baby on the porch of his ranch on a warm summer evening. The picture was so real that tears came to her eyes.

As she cleared her throat and blinked back tears, a warm, accented voice came from beside her. “Pardon me, miss, but could you tell me where the art museum is?”

She looked toward the smooth voice and felt her breath catch. A handsome man in a dark green jacket with a bronze vest stood beside her, dressed in tan pants that fit him perfectly. A fashionable black hat sat on his head, and he held an elegant walking cane. He had a small mustache that drew attention to his full lips. His jaw was strong and square and gave his face an utterly masculine charm.

“Which one are you looking for?” Lilly asked and sat up straighter.

“There’s more than one?” His voice was wonderful, smooth as butterscotch despite the thick accent.

“Yes, there are several.”

“Perhaps I could persuade you to show me?” He gave her a roguish smile, his dark green eyes sparkling.

She laughed and shrugged her shawl about her shoulders. “I am afraid my fiancé wouldn’t like that.”

“Ah, a fiancé. But where is he, to leave such a beautiful woman alone?”

“He will be here in a moment.” She nodded to an older couple walking past. The young man ignored the polite greeting of the elderly man, watching her. She suddenly found him rather rude.

“If you will excuse me, Mr…?”

“Brushk, Cìarán Brushk.” He tipped his hat to her, his fine, light-brown hair glowing in the setting sun.

“If you will excuse me, Mr. Brushk, I believe my fiancé will be here soon.” She tipped her head and gave him a cold stare.

“I have offended you. I apologize.” He gave her an elegant bow. “I will leave you now before I upset you further. It has been most interesting meeting, Miss…?”

Her frosty glare thawed as she realized how boorish she was being. “Miss Brooks.”

“The angel has a name. Thank you, Miss Brooks.” The way he said her name made her want to fan herself.
A very dangerous man indeed
.

Cìarán glanced behind her and a small smile tilted his lips. “I believe your intended is on his way over. I will take my leave lest I cause an argument.” He tipped his head again and sauntered off toward the west, placing his cane with precise movements.

Paul sat next to her on the fountain, his glare following the retreating figure of Mr. Brushk. His hand inched to his slim hip, where his guns usually hung. “I can’t leave you alone for a minute. You’re so sweet you attract men like bees to a flower.”

She laughed softly, glancing around before she placed a gentle kiss on his lips. “You’re the only one who gets to drink my nectar.”

He smiled against her lips, running the hint of rough stubble over her cheek. Leaning closer, he deepened the kiss with his tongue darting in to stroke against hers. She raised a gloved hand and cupped his face, sighing against his mouth. “I’ve missed this. If we don’t get some alone time soon, I’m going to explode.”

He scooted her closer on the cold marble, pressing his thigh against hers. “How do you think I feel? Knowing you’re on the other side of the wall, all luscious and alone in bed.”

“I’d sneak over, but I’m afraid my father would shoot you.”

He laughed and put an arm around her waist. “I’d sneak over, but I’m afraid I would run into your mother picking the lock on Sleeping Bear’s door.”

Her giggle turned into a groan as he captured the tender lobe of her ear with his teeth. “Lilly, do you think about me while you’re in bed?”

“All the time.”

His voice deepened. His warm breath stirring against her skin. “No, do you think about me when you’re all alone in your bed. Do you slide that pretty little hand down between your legs?”

“Paul,” she cried in a shocked voice and tried to pull away.

He held her fast about the waist and continued. “I think about you. I think about those beautiful little nipples, and the way they get hard as stones when I suck on them. About the look in your eyes when you say my name, and how your heart beats faster when I kiss you.”

Her breath came out in a shudder as she listened to his voice purr out erotic images.

“I think about you gripping my head when I’m licking the cream from between your thighs. The way you get greedy for your pleasure and grind your hard little bud against my tongue. And how you smell,” his voice dropped to a growl, “almost as good as you taste.”

Her hands fisted in her lap. There were still people off in the distance, and all she wanted to do right now as tear his clothes off and ride him in the icy spray of the fountain.

“I think about what it feels like to slide inside of you, hot and slicker than wet silk. I think about those things and stroke myself, wondering if you’re doing the same on the other side of the damned wall.”

She stood quickly, pacing back and forth in front of him. “You’re a bad man,” she huffed, unable to hide her smile. He leaned back and showed her the bulging evidence of his desire against his pants.

Her eyes grew big and round as her hands clenched together. She mustn’t lift her skirts, drop his pants, and have him bend her over the edge of the fountain. They would be taken to jail.

She turned her back and crossed her arms. “Paul, you are the Devil himself.”

His warm laughter stroked over her back and he moved up behind her, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and pressing himself against her dress. “I’ll behave. I miss you. If my sister tries to stick you in a separate room, I’ll strangle her.”

She smiled impishly and turned in his arms. “We leave tomorrow. I don’t think Sleeping Bear could take one more day here. Between my mother trying to eat him like candy, and my grand-mère’s wanting to paint him nude, he must be having culture shock.”

He laughed and nuzzled her ear, leading them out of the park and off to dinner.