“Or until Brig secures it,” she said.
“Yes,” he said. “Or until Brig secures it.”
Brig stretched lazily,smoothed the crown of Madeline’s hair, and then eased himself out from under her. Her long, elegantly curved legs were reluctant to give him up. He patted her naked behind and finally pinched her in order to get her to move. Reaching over her, he grabbed one corner of the sheet and dragged it across their bodies.
Madeline thought he meant to cover them both. She made a tiny sound of protest at the back of her throat when Brig threw his legs over the side of the bed, hitched the sheet around his waist, and padded into the sitting room. He returned with a glass of red wine.
“Nothing for me?” Madeline asked, pouting.
“I had planned to share.”
“That’s all right then.” She sat up and fashioned a modest garment for herself out of the fringed coverlet. When she looked up from her task it was to find Brig watching her. Heat had returned to the dark center of his eyes. “Yes?” she said, her voice sultry. She raised her arms behind her and lifted her hair, held it up as if cooling her nape then let it fall in a silky red cloud about her shoulders.
“Did you ever think, Madeline, that perhaps a man courts your daughter as an excuse to be close to you?” he asked. “My God, you have nothing to fear from her.”
“Is it true of you? Is that why you made that insane wager?”
“What do you think?” He sat on the bed and extended the glass of wine after he sipped from it. He turned it so Madeline’s lips touched in the same place his had. When he withdrew the glass there was a drop of red wine on her mouth. He touched it with his tongue and the kiss began from there.
When Nathanand Lydia left the Cliff House it was after nine. A swirling wind brought nettles of salt air from the Pacific and sand from the white beach below them. At the horizon the stars alone distinguished the sky from the water. The sound of the tide was a steady roar in their ears and there was a discordant cry above it, a cacophony of sound Nathan could not identify.
“Sea lions,” Lydia told him.
Nathan recalled seeing them in the daytime, basking in the sun on the rocks below. They were not any more beautiful than the sounds they made, but their antics were entertaining.
“Are there sea lions in Australia?” she asked.
“I’ve never seen them.” They were standing near the edge of the cliff. Wind swept under Lydia’s short cape and billowed the skirt of her gown. Nathan wondered what her reaction would be if he were to turn her slightly, draw her closer to his body, and shelter her against the wind. When he did turn her it was to escort her to their carriage. She accepted his arm naturally and he was again reminded of her graceful bearing as they walked across the pebble drive. “We have a queer sort of animal called a platypus, though. It lives in the ocean. Ever heard of it?”
“No.”
“It’s got something of the shape of one of your sea lions, but it has a large flat bill and webbed feet like a duck, a beaver’s tail, and hair on its hide like a bear. It lays eggs like a turtle and feeds its pups with mother’s milk.”
She looked at him sideways, her glance suspicious. “You’re making that up.”
“I couldn’t,” he said. “Could you?”
Laughing, she shook her head. “What a strange and wonderful place it must be.”
“It’s hard and bleak is what it is.” His description was reflected in his voice. “Only the men are more unforgiving than the land they live on. You’d do well to remember that, Liddy.”
It was all she thought about during the long silent ride back to Nob Hill. Nathan Hunter was an enigma. Just at the moment she found herself enjoying his company, he said or did something that made her wary of his attentions. His conversation was like his dancing: filled with fits and starts, drawing her close, and then pushing her abruptly away.
When they arrived at Lydia’s home it was she who suggested a walk through the gardens and down to the pond. She was embarrassed as Nathan checked his pocket watch. Did he have to be so obvious about wanting to leave her?
“It was a stupid idea,” she said quickly, ducking her head. “The wager said nothing about—”
“Damn the bloody wager,” Nathan said. When Lydia’s head shot up Nathan cupped the underside of her chin with his forefinger. “I’d like to see your gardens. There’s a gazebo by the pond, isn’t there?”
“Yes.” Confusion still clouded her eyes. “But don’t you have to go? You looked at your watch as if—”
“I looked at my watch because I want to make certain I get you inside by way of a door tonight, preferably the front one.”
“Oh.”
“Oh,” he said, lightly mocking her. His hand dropped away from her chin and he offered his arm.
They stayed on the flagstone path as they walked, avoiding the damp grass they had trampled the previous evening. There was little they could see in the way of color, even with the bleached white half moon lighting their way, but the fragrances were rich and the night sounds of crickets in the hedges and fish leaping in the pond filled the strained breaks in their conversation.
