They were perilously close, especially since she wore only a shift and he was in shirt and drawers, but no matter. For the first time in more years than he could count, all seemed right with the world.
Chapter 8
Callie was jarred awake by cannon fire. No, not artillery but thunder, because a blaze of nearby lightning briefly glared through the room. She relaxed, much preferring a violent thunderstorm to an attacking army.
She drowsed, feeling wonderfully relaxed in every fiber of her body. Another flash of lightning and almost instant thunder rattled the roof and brought her more awake. Memory returned with a shock as she realized that she was not home in her own bed because her house had been burned to the ground by the British.
She was in the guest cottage, and she was not alone in the bed. She jerked to full wakefulness, momentarily panicked. Then she relaxed. It was Richard, miraculously alive. He lay on his side behind her with his arm resting on her waist. Even in the darkness, she recognized him by his scent and some mysterious essence of her old friend.
To her relief, Richard stirred and removed his arm from her waist. “Your thunderstorms are as extreme as your heat.”
“True, but the rain that’s pounding down should put out the fires, and that’s a blessing.” She stretched luxuriously, arching her back and extending her arms over her head. “I can’t remember when I’ve slept so well. You make me feel safe. Remember when we decided to use each other’s middle names?”
“It was raining, though not as fiercely as now,” he said immediately. “We were very young then, barely out of the nursery. We’d walked out to the lake at Kingston Court and were on our way home when the storm struck, so we took shelter in a hay barn. You said I didn’t look like a George, and asked what other names I had.”
She laughed. “I liked the name Gordon better, but the sound is too hard, and Augustus is pompous. Richard is softer and warmer. More like you.” Ever since that day in the hay barn, he’d been Richard to her.
“There are few who would consider me soft or warm,” he said with amusement. “Apart from my nurse, no one else has ever called me Richard. But I liked the idea of us having private names for each other, so we picked through your names as well.”
“You said Catherine was too dignified for an unruly chit like me. That left Callista, which you promptly shortened to Callie.”
“The name is unusual, like you, but the nickname Callie is more mischievous,” he explained. “I liked that Callisto was one of Artemis’s huntresses in Greek mythology.”
“I liked being a huntress, but I later learned that the name means ‘most beautiful.’ I’m sure you didn’t intend that.”
He chuckled. “Thinking back, you were a remarkably pretty little girl, but I never noticed because of the tangled hair and mud on your face.”
“Ha! Were you any better?”
“Worse,” he said promptly. “We spurred each other into trouble.”
“We were never mean to other children, though. It was innocent fun.” She sighed nostalgically. “I’m so glad to have my brother back.”
A flare of lightning briefly illuminated the room and she saw that Richard had arched his brows. “You have a brother and I am not he.”
“I scarcely remember Marcus. He was so small when I left England. Still in the nursery. He turned twenty-one recently. I expect my parents gave a grand ball to celebrate the heir’s coming of age.”
“Very likely,” Richard agreed. “But here and now, I want to make the point that I am not your brother, and I do not regard you as a sister.”
“But we were brother and sister to each other,” she protested. “You had no sisters and my brother wasn’t old enough to be a playmate, so we shared sibling ways of getting into trouble. Getting muddy in the creek together, riding and learning to jump fences, and covering up each other’s crimes. Being punished together, too. You were a much better brother than my actual brother.”
“I amnotyour brother,” he said with an edge to his voice.
“No?” She blinked as another flash of lightning briefly illuminated his silhouette and strong, elegant features. She felt a sense of loss, as if his denial of their childhood relationship took away a treasured part of her past. “I liked having you as a brother.”
“I amnotyour brother!” he repeated, his voice rough this time. And he leaned forward and kissed her.
As his lips covered hers with warm command, shock jolted through her. This was not the way things were supposed to be!
Her startled reaction was swiftly followed by sensations different from any she’d ever experienced. Heady, disturbing feelings curled through her from head to toes, bringing alive all parts in between.
She’d barely started to feel interest in the male half of the species when she’d been married off to a man three times her age. Matthew was always gentle with her, even in his brief, ardent honeymoon phase, but she’d never felt more than mild curiosity and dutiful acceptance in their marital bed.
This—thiswas different, and for the first time she understood why women ruined themselves with men. She felt a promise of something wild and compelling in Richard’s touch, and it terrified her. When he moved a warm hand to her waist, mere inches from her unbound breasts, she shoved herself away from him, ending up plastered against the wall beside the bed. “This is a really, really bad idea!” she said in a choked voice.
“You’re undoubtedly right.” Seeing her reaction, he made no attempt to move closer or kiss her again. “But I wanted to make it clear that I am not your brother. Though I never had a sister, I’m sure I wouldn’t feel this way about her.”
“I should hope not!” Another bolt of lightning lit Richard’s composed features. He didn’t look like a menacing brute, but he was a great deal more than her childhood friend. She’d bought a large bed so married guests could be comfortable, but now it was filled with Richard, who dominated the space and the very air she breathed. He was all strength and power and she was acutely aware that she wore only a whisper thin muslin shift and he wasn’t wearing much more.
