Diamonds and Dreams (51 page)

Quickly, he glanced toward both ends of the
hall, grinning when he didn’t see either one of the sharp-beaked
mother hens. “They’re not coming yet. Let’s...uh,
talk
.”

She heard the sensual tone in his voice. Her
desire rose. “You’re not in the mood for just plain talkin’,
Saber.”

“No?” he asked, chuckling. “Then pray tell,
what kind of mood am I in, Goldie love?”

“You know damn well what mood. You just want
to hear me say it.”

“True. Say it.”

“No.”

“Look, Goldie, I’m here for very important
reasons. I want to put my arms around you. I want to kiss you. I
want to feel your body next to mine. Goldie,” he said huskily, “I
want to make love—”

“Great day Miss Agnes, Saber!”

“I’m not
doing
those things, poppet.
I’m only telling you I
want
to do them.”

Heat flowed through her senses. He was
looking at her with dark, hooded eyes that saw right through her.
Good Lord, she thought. She had to get him out of here before
improper things happened between them! “Saber, you have to leave
my—”

“But what about talking?” he asked
naughtily, his smile crooked.

“We’ll talk tomorrow just like Miss Clara
said,” she told him, hating to wait that long, but knowing full
well she had no other choice. “And while we’re talkin’, you can
hold my hand if you want, but that’s all. Miss Lucy and Miss Clara
said I can’t let you do anything else but that. I reckon you can’t
even kiss my wrist anymore.”

Saber fought with the irritation he felt for
his aunties. They’d certainly done their work well, the two
busybodies. “But you like it when I kiss your wrist. When I start
close to your palm and go slowly up your arm.”

Goldie felt passion set her cheeks aflame.
“You are
so
bad, Saber West.”

“True. But tell me in all honesty that you
don’t like it when I’m bad, and I’ll become the most gentlemanly
gentleman you’d ever hope to encounter.”

Though he was teasing her, she saw the
hunger in his eyes. She watched as that sensual gaze of his
meandered from her face to her breasts. It lingered there.
Flustered, Goldie laid her hand upon the plunging neckline of her
velvet gown. “This isn’t a proper dress for wearin’ around the
house. But—Well, I like this one the best. I was just tryin’ it on,
y’see. I’m not wearin’ it for real.”

At the sight of her fingers trembling over
the lovely swells of her breasts, Saber smiled knowingly. “Why is
that one your favorite, poppet?”

Her answer came instantly. “Because it’s the
color of wet seaweed. Just like your eyes.”

The love he felt for her threatened to
consume him. “Goldie—”

“London’s real fuliginous!” she blurted,
desperate to change the subject before she began begging him to
come in and do improper things to her.

He shuddered with a great sigh and gathered
patience. “Yes, I agree. London is fuliginous.”

She felt relieved over her success at
changing the course of the conversation, and was determined not to
let him switch it back again. Worked up as he was tonight, she knew
he’d try. “What do you do in your spare time, Saber? Sit down and
memorize the dictionary?”

He chuckled at that.

“I’m gonna test you. Tell me what
fuliginous
means.”

“Sooty.”

“Pudibund.”

“To be ashamed.”

“Monodist.”

“One who sings or composes monodies, which
are odes sung by one voice.”

She smiled.

He thought her grin quite mischievous.

“Thipstrit.”

Saber frowned.
“Thipstrit?”

She nodded. “What’s it mean? You
are
Mr. Saber I-Know-Every-Word-Invented West, aren’t you?”

He shuffled his feet on the floor. “Give me
a minute to think, and I’ll remember the definition.”

“Yeah, sure.”

“I will.”

“Uh huh.”

“Goldie, if you’ll only hush, I’ll remember
what thipstrit means. I know I’ve heard the word before. Somewhere.
I’m sure of it. Just give me a second.” Closing his eyes, he
pinched the bridge of his nose and concentrated.

Goldie gave him a second. And another. She
gave him almost a full minute of seconds. “Give up?”

His shoulders slumped. “Yes, I give up. What
does thipstrit mean?”

She tossed her hair out of her eyes. “I’m
not gonna tell you.”

He felt a mixture of amusement and
irritation at once. “Tell me.”

“Nope.”

“Then you’re mean. I’ll bet
you
pulled more wings off butterflies than old Raleigh Purvis.”

She watched him for a long moment. “I love
it when you tease me. Saber.”

“Indeed. And what else do you love for me to
do?” He took a tentative step into her room.

She tried in vain to swallow again. “Your
aunts—They’re going to bring Margaret and see you in here.”

“Ah, but I’m too big for them to turn over
their knees anymore.” He took another step toward her.

“They’ll—They can still get mad at you,
though.”

“Perhaps I should close the door?”

“Well!” Lucille huffed from the doorway,
Margaret in her arms, Itchie Bon at her heels. “What is the meaning
of this?”

Saber saw the look of pure horror and dread
on Goldie’s face, then turned to face his aunt. “Aunt Lucy, I am
testing Goldie’s etiquette. As you can plainly see, I am in her
bedroom. I took two steps in here and waited for her to dismiss me,
as a proper lady should.”

Lucille took Margaret into the room. “And
did she dismiss you?”

“She did at that.”

Lucille smiled at Goldie. “Good for you, my
dear.” Pushing her spectacles up, she glanced at Saber again.
“Well? You were dismissed, were you not?”

Saber gritted his teeth. Spinning on his
heel, he turned toward the door and stalked out.

Goldie understood his frustration, for she
felt it too. And by the way Lucille was staring at her, she
suspected the feelings Saber’s presence had engendered were fairly
pouring out of her eyes. “Well, I reckon I’ll go to bed now, Miss
Lucy!” she announced a bit too loudly.

“Goldie, my dear, why are your cheeks so
red? Are you not feeling well?”

Her hands flew to her hot cheeks. “I’m—I’m
really
tired. I’ll swannee, I’m so tired that I just know
I’ll be asleep even before my head gets anywhere near the pillow.”
With shaking hands, she picked up a pillow. “I never had such soft
pillows to sleep on,” she rambled, her emotions becoming more
frenzied by the moment. “In fact, I never had any pillow at all!
Made my own. Just folded up some clothes. That worked just fine,
but one time I slept on a button. When I woke up I had circle on my
forehead. I guess I slept flat on my face that night. It’s a wonder
I didn’t smother, huh?”

Lucille’s brow furrowed. “You are talking
too quickly, Goldie, and you look feverish to me. Perhaps I should
send for a doctor.”

“No! A doctor—I’m afraid of doctors. I get
faint even thinkin’ about ’em. Feel faint right now.” In a dramatic
gesture, she laid the back of her hand on her forehead for a
moment. “My face gets all red like this when—When I’m tired.”

“Indeed. Most people become
pale
when
tired. And when they are embarrassed and flustered, they become
red.”

Goldie felt the beginning of panic. “Yeah?
Um... Well, I get red when I’m tired and white when I’m
embarrassed. I’m yellow when I’m sick, and blue when I’m scared. I
get green when I’m too warm, and orangeish when I’m cold. I—I’m a
very colorful person. Well, I reckon I’ll go to bed now, Miss
Lucy!”

Lucille stared at her for a while longer.
“So you are sure you’re all right?”

“Oh, surely I’m sure. I’m so sure that I
just couldn’t be any more sure.”

“Good night then, my dear. Clara and I are
retiring also, but if you should need anything, do not hesitate to
make us aware of it.”

Goldie stood there smiling a fake smile
until Miss Lucy left. “Damn you, Saber West. You’ve worked me into
a tizzy, and neither one of us can do a thing about it!”

Desire still stabbing through her, she
removed her gown and underthings. The sight of her own bare body
deepened her need. “Sleep,” she muttered to Margaret and Itchie
Bon. “I’ve gotta go to sleep. Unconsciousness is the only way to
get over this.”

She chose a silky nightgown from her
dresser, and lifted it over her head. It fell sensuously over her
body, caressing her. She trembled, remembering the way Saber’s
hands felt when he touched her all over. Tearing the thought from
her mind, she marched to her bed and climbed into it.

Being very still, she closed her eyes and
willed sleep to come. It wouldn’t. She hummed a dozen lullabies to
herself. Thought of exceedingly boring things. Counted two hundred
and twenty-seven sheep. And remained wide awake.

Her body, mind, and her heart...every part
of her longed for Saber.

Her eyes popped open. For a long while, she
stared at the canopy, Saber claiming her every thought. She became
so warm, she kicked off her covers. “Well, there’s only one thing
to do,” she told the dogs. “I might get caught doin’ it, but great
day Miss Agnes, if I don’t try, I’ll melt, and come mornin’ I won’t
be anything but a puddle layin’ here in this bed.”

She gave a sheepish look at the two dogs
staring at her from the floor. “Saber and I have to
talk
,
y’see. About the problem of goin’ to Hallensham and what to do with
Uncle Asa. There’s nothin’ wrong with
talkin’
, y’all, so
quit lookin’ at me like that.”

Rising, she placed two pillows beneath the
covers, giving them pats here and there. “What do y’all think?” she
asked as she stepped back to examine her work. “Think it’ll fool
Miss Clara and Miss Lucy if they decide to look in on me?”

Itchie Bon scratched his ear, then leapt
onto the bed, lying down beside the hump that was supposed to be
Goldie. Margaret trotted to the bedside throw rug, settling herself
comfortably.

Goldie blew kisses to them both and tiptoed
to the door. Opening it slowly, she peered out, relieved when she
saw no signs of either of the aunties. She stepped out into the
hall, shut her bedroom door, and skipped down the long hallway as
if dancing on a path of fairy dust. By the time she reached Saber’s
room, she put her hands on her chest to catch her heart in case it
beat itself out of her body.

As she stared at the closed door, she
thought of all the things that would soon happen behind it. The
talking long into the early hours of the morning. The
lovemaking...

Her hand trembling, she reached for the
knob.

The doorknob squeaked as she turned it. Her
every nerve came together to create a spasm of fear she’d be
caught. She cursed silently, and turned the knob more firmly. Ever
so slightly, she pushed the door open, gratified when she saw the
room was softly illuminated. Saber was still awake. That or he was
afraid of the dark and slept with a lighted lamp. She smiled at
that thought, opened the door further, and saw his bed.

He wasn’t in it.

“Dammit, Saber!” she whispered vehemently.
“I’m bein’ an improper lady for you, and you don’t even have the
decency to be in bed waitin’ on me!” With an angry sigh, she
stepped into his room and closed the door behind her. She walked to
his bed, running her hand down the midnight blue velvet that flowed
from the canopy.

“Well, now what the hell am I supposed to
do?” she asked the mound of pillows.

No sooner had the question left her lips
than the room went completely dark. A scream rose in her throat,
but before she could release it, strong hands caught her shoulders.
Arms pulled her against a torso that was both hard and soft at
once.

Warm lips met hers in a kiss that demanded
everything she had to give. Searching fingers fumbled with the
ribbons at the neck of her night rail, and a satisfied groan hit
her ears when the filmy gown skimmed down her body, pooling at her
feet.

“Tell me something, my improper lady,” Saber
murmured, his lips nuzzling the sweet hollow of her throat. “Do you
want me to be an improper gentleman? Shall we cast aside all the
rules and make this night highly improper? Shall I do improper
things to you, Goldie? And should I do them, may I expect you to do
improper things to me in return?”

“Yes.” She pulled at the sash of his robe,
quivering when the garment fell to join her nightgown on the floor.
She leaned into him, feeling unsteady on her feet when his need for
her pressed hotly against her belly. “Yes, yes,” she said. “But
whoever you are, don’t tell Saber West. If he catches me doin’ this
with you, he’ll—”

Saber laughed very quietly and swept her
into his arms. “Minx.” He bent his head, savoring the softness of
her breasts upon his face. He carried her to the window, and,
holding her in one arm, he used his other arm to yank the draperies
open. “I love the way silver moonlight looks on your gold hair,” he
told her as he took her to his bed and laid her down there. He
joined her, pulling her to him, his hands traveling over the entire
length of her body.

“You smell different than you usually do,”
Goldie commented, her face in his hair. “You smell
like—Like...roses.”

He tensed, realizing that Jillian’s’ cloying
rose perfume still clung to him. Panicked, he tried to think of
what to tell Goldie. “I—It must be those overripe roses in the
foyer,” he blurted, profoundly thankful that he’d recalled the
flowers. “I brushed past them earlier. The things smell sickeningly
sweet.”

Goldie smiled. “Rosie brought ’em. But the
way you smell, Saber—It’s different than the roses she—”

“Forget the roses, poppet. I’d rather think
of dandelions.” He parted her thighs. She moaned when his fingers
slipped intimately into her. “Saber, wait. I need to talk to you
first. I’ve got somethin’ important to tell—”