Chapter Five
Seated upon a small stoolin the front room of Dr. Wallaby’s house, Theodosia looked at the long wooden table cluttered with glass slides, scraps of paper scribbled with notes, and big clear jars that housed live specimens of various insects. No less than six microscopes were scattered throughout the tiny room, and the tall bookcases that lined the walls were filled with leather-bound volumes. On one of the two whitewashed windowsills sat bundles of dried bluebonnets, a magnifying glass, a piece of petrified wood, and a small brown package with Roman’s name on it.
Dr. Wallaby was out. Wondering where he was and when he would return, she glanced at the front door.
But it was Roman who walked through it, her big blue trunk balanced on his broad shoulder. As he had in Oates’ Junction, he handled the chest seemingly without effort. Only the bulge of his muscles betrayed the fact that it was exceedingly heavy.
Memories of the night filtered through her mind. She and Roman had remained beneath the wagon, and she’d slept in his arms, warm and safe in spite of the storm. Upon awakening, her first sight had been of his piercing blue eyes. She’d wondered if he’d watched her all through the night. The possibility, for some reason, had given her a thrill she’d never before experienced.
“That’s the last of it,” Roman said after setting the trunk down in a corner with the rest of her belongings.
His deep rich voice set her every nerve to tingling. “There’s a packet on the windowsill for you, Mr. Montana.”
He retrieved and opened it. Quickly, he counted the money it contained, then stuffed it into his pocket and glanced at Theodosia.
Sunshine streamed in from the window behind her, painting her hair, cheeks, and the heart-shaped ruby brooch at her throat with soft, pretty light. Her small white hands were folded in her lap, and delicate white lace encircled her wrists. She wore pink, the same color as the little flowers that grew near fence posts. He noticed those flowers sometimes. He didn’t know what they were called, but he knew Theodosia would.
The pink made her look very young, and very innocent. Well, hell, he thought, shewasvery young and innocent. Her genius didn’t hide that.
He shifted uneasily. Her vulnerability, like some sort of halo, glowed all around her, and he wondered if she would be all right. She knew a lot of things, but she wasn’t much good at taking care of herself. She’d probably be eaten by a crocodile the second she set foot in Brazil.
He thrust his fingers through his hair. Dammit, his time was his own now! The days, weeks, months, and years of taking care of women were over. And that was what Theodosia was too. Just some daft woman he’d happened to meet and would now leave.
There was no way in hell he’d play the fool again. He threw back his shoulders. “I’ll be going now, Miss Worth. Watch out for crocodiles in Brazil.” He spun toward the door.
“Would you wait with me, Mr. Montana?” Her own question startled her, as did the odd emptiness she felt inside. Had it really been only three days ago that she’d looked forward to parting company from this stubborn and arrogant man? “Dr. Wallaby isn’t here, and I—”
“He’s probably out looking for bugs. The man spends so much time with the damned things that he’ll probably turn into one before long. And we arrived way ahead of schedule. He wasn’t expecting us until tonight.”
“Still, I would appreciate it if you would wait with me. We could talk for a while. You pushed the horses so hard today that we had little opportunity to converse.”
“I thought you were in a hurry to get here.”
“I was, but I—”
“Well, here you are, and just as soon as the King of Beetle Spit gets back, the two of you can get to work on all the things you’ve been planning to do. While you’re waiting, why don’t you memorize your sex-treat book?Oneof you should be a master at the art of lovemaking, and I can promise you now that it won’t be your human fossil of a lover.” He started for the door again, but stopped once more when she called to him.
“Good-bye then, Mr. Montana. And thank you ever so much for all you have done for me.” She smiled.
Her gracious smile looked like honey to Roman, glistening, slow-spreading, and every bit as sweet. It drew him toward her.
Dr. Wallaby would be the first man to make love to her.
But years from now, when she remembered her first real kiss, he vowed she would think of Roman Montana.
The profoundly arousing fragrance of wild flowers, warmth, and woman bathed his senses when he reached for her. His right hand caught her chin, and leisurely, savoring every second, he slid his left hand up her back and to the nape of her neck. Thus, he kept her captive for his kiss.
A barely there smile touched his lips as he brushed his mouth over hers, in a kiss as gentle as the play of light in her eyes. Her sigh drifted over his tongue as he coerced her to part her lips.
He lowered his left hand to the small of her back. She was soft to the touch, and he realized she wore no corset. Her tiny waistline was her own, a fact that aroused Roman further.
He urged her closer. To him. To his heat.
To the desire that the scent, taste, and feel of her had brought to life.
She tried to pull away but was stilled instantly when he growled with displeasure and slanted his mouth over hers, the motions of his tongue hard, demanding, and possessive. With increasing pressure of his hand, he kept her hips cradled within his. She fitted his body perfectly, as if a master sculptor had designed her especially for him.
He moved against her, into her, wanting to brand her with the hot, hard feel of himself. He would never see her again after this day, that he knew.
