Had been glad. Now he wanted to shake her. "How can instinct help you when you want to plan your life, or strive for something more than the most basic needs?"
She looked at him as if he'd just bayed at the moon. "My only plan is staying alive. And I think it's a noble one."
Grant couldn't understand her. He had the rest of his life planned out. In detail. He would return Victoria. Earn the Court. When the old man passed, he'd assume the estate and restore it to its former glory. After he'd achieved that, he'd begin the search for a wife, the way he did all things--thoroughly, without emotion. With an estate like that, Grant thought he could attract the type of woman he wanted--a placid English bride of impeccable manner and lineage....
"What's your cause, Captain Killjoy?"
He gave her a black look. "To bring you back, and then make a home for myself."
"You disapprove of me for not having my life planned out," she commented with a sigh. "But how can I? I have no idea what my life's to be like when I return. For instance, how will I live in England?"
"Your grandfather will care for you until you wed."
"What will happen to Cammy? She has no family."
"I'm sure Belmont would allow her to stay with you until you married," he pointed out reasonably.
"Then what?"
"You ask a lot of questions, Victoria."
"I'm planning. Besides, this is my new life--I'd rather not go into it blind."
He couldn't argue with that. "Fine. Perhaps your husband would let Miss Scott stay on as a companion for you or a governess to your children."
"Perhaps?"
"If not, she could marry."
"Is that the solution to everything? Marriage? It's a wonder there are even any unmarried people to choose from."
When he gave her an unamused look, she exhaled as though overwhelmed. There was much for her to think of, and sympathy arose in him.
"Plan on this, Victoria. You'll marry well. You'll have children," he said with absolute certainty. "You will have friends and family."
She appeared momentarily dazed. Then her face softened. He'd wager she'd once loved children. Deep in thought, she murmured, "Those things could be." He couldn't take his eyes from her. When a breeze capped the fire and blew tendrils of her hair, she roused, then absently said, "Good night." For the first time, she didn't seem to regard him with fear or disgust. She strode from the hammock to the shelter, lost in thought.
That mysterious look seized his thoughts. He'd concluded that she was an easy read, but now he didn't know. He unrolled his pallet, looking for a break in the canopy, then stilled. Had she meant what she said about being dead to the world? Could she truly have given up all hope of ever leaving? And if so, how had she lived with the knowledge of all the things she'd never have?
The idea troubled him. But it shouldn't now. She was returning. She would have children, a family, friends. Though she was ensconced in her hut, he called out to her, "Victoria, I will return you safely home so you can have all those things."
After a moment, she called back in a grudging tone, "Move to the right if you want to see the stars."
Ten
Grant woke when the first fat drop of rain slogged his forehead. He swore when it was followed by another and another, until he was pitched into a tropical storm. He'd slept in drizzle out here before, he told himself--he just needed to accept the situation. That night wasn't nearly like this though, a part of him argued. He glanced up at the hut, knowing it was dry inside.
Share with her or remain outside. He rose but didn't approach, determined to stay away. He settled under a leaf, pulling up his collar. This wasn't so terrible....
When he began to breathe rain, he swore violently and grabbed his pack, making his way up the ladder. He sluiced off the worst of the water and entered to find her snug and relaxed. Seemingly unconcerned at his entrance, she didn't even sit up.
He took off his pack, knelt, and delved into it. All of his clothes were soaked. He sank back on his heels.
"I'm going to enjoy watching your skin rot because of your beloved propriety."
He stopped scratching his arm and glowered at her in the dark.
"There's no light." Her tone was exasperated, as though she dealt with a difficult child. "Your modesty will be preserved."
"My modesty is not the issue." Sleeping with his ward in her room. Without his clothes on. This was just bloody brilliant.
"What is the issue then?"
"Your modesty. Just turn so I can get out of these clothes."
With a long-suffering sigh, she rolled away from him. "Take Cammy's bed."
He stared at the ceiling while he stripped down, then felt his way to the homemade mattress of grass.
The exertion from the day caught up with him as soon as he placed his head on his forearm. His eyelids grew too heavy to fight. He had a last hazy thought: Isn't so bad sleeping here with her...situation like this, sometimes you have to bend the rules....
Grant was rewarded with the most amazing dream of his life. Victoria was curled next to him under her quilt, her breast soft in his hand. He cupped the other and, to his amazement, he felt her fingers on his torso, trailing lower.
His breaths grew ragged. His hand closed around her breast--the warmth, the unbelievable softness of her skin, could he possibly have dreamed this perfection? He cracked his eyes open, just as her lashes fluttered up. Vulnerable and soft with sleep, she was irresistible. He probably was still dreaming.... Leaning in close and slanting his lips over hers, he brushed his thumb across her nipple. She gasped and her hips rolled forward.
As he continued kissing her, outlining her lips with his tongue, her hand traveled down to explore his erection. He shuddered w
hen the pad of a curious finger brushed the slick head, and groaned as a smooth nail trailed up the base. If she continued touching and squeezing him like that, he would spend. He wanted to. It had been so long....
A shock of light flooded the room. Grant froze. Victoria's whole body tensed.
"And to believe I scoffed at the idea of using you as an example of a proper British gentleman," Ian boomed from the doorway. "Let me tell you, I am now ready to carry the torch!"
Ian was leaning into the hut, flashing Grant a proud grin.
"What the bloody hell?" Under the cover, Grant's hand still was wrapped around Victoria's breast, and her hand grasped him. Her lips thinned, while his teeth clenched. They both jerked away from each other. She was quicker than he, and when she moved, half her blouse caught at his wrist. She yanked it closed, but it remained an open V down to her flat belly.
"Aww, look at you two lovebirds."
My God, the humiliation is complete. "Go to hell, Ian." Grant threw his boot at the entrance, flushing to remember all the lectures he'd given Ian. He'd believed everything he'd told him, but one week on this island had undermined a lifetime of care. Had he really just had his hand on his ward's breast?
"Hell? Already been there," Ian informed them. "That storm was a monster--"
"Where's Cammy?" Victoria interrupted. "Has she worsened?"
"She suffered a little mal de mer, but we got through it fine," Ian said. "When I left, Cammy was in her cabin reading as voraciously as she's hit our tea supply."
"Cammy?" Grant mocked his use of the woman's nickname.
"That's what she asked me to call her." Turning to Victoria, he said, "Lady Victoria, I'm Ian Traywick, cousin to the ogre just here."
Victoria surveyed Ian in an appraising manner. "Thank you for caring for her. I can't tell you how much I've worried." She glared at Grant.
"It's my pleasure. Cammy's a wonderful lady."