Stranger in My Arms(34)

“I didn’t touch a single woman in London,” he said. “I only thought of you.

“And you expect a reward for that? I’ve done my best to encourage you to take a mistress.”

He urged his h*ps against hers, as if she weren’t already aware of his jutting arousal. “But I only want you.”

“Haven’t you ever been told that you can’t have everything you want?”

That elicited a swift grin. “Not that I recall.”

Despite his brutish strength, he seemed boyish and mischievous, and Lara realized that it wasn’t fear that made her pulse beat so wildly.

She was caught in a flurry of excitement, discovering for the first time the power of holding an aroused male at bay. Deliberately she withheld what he wanted, keeping her arms wedged between them, turning her face to the side. “What will I gain if I kiss you?” Lara heard herself ask. The low, provocative tone didn’t sound like her at all.

The question cracked his self-control enough to reveal that he wanted her badly, in spite of his teasing demeanor. His arms became as tight as barrel stays, his body hardening against hers. “Name your price,” he muttered. “Within reason.”

“I’m almost positive that you won’t consider what I want is reasonable,” she said ruefully.

Hawksworth sank his fingers into her disheveled hair and eased her head back. “Kiss me first. We’ll talk about ‘reasonable’ later.”

“One kiss?” she asked warily.

He nodded, his breath catching as Lara reached up to him. Her fingers slid around the back of his neck, and she pulled his head down, her own lips softening with anticipation. “Lara! Lara!” A small figure came hurrying toward them, and Lara wriggled free to face Johnny. Anxiously he buried himself against her, small hands clutching at her skirts.

“What is it?” she asked, kneeling beside him, rubbing his narrow back as he held her tightly.

After a moment or two of consolation, Johnny lifted his dark head and stared at Hawksworth with a mixture of suspicion and dislike. “He was hurting ye!”

Lara pressed her lips together to keep them from quivering with sudden amusement. “No, darling.

This is Lord Hawksworth. I was merely welcoming him home. Everything is all right” Clearly unconvinced, the child continued to glare at the interloper. Hawksworth didn’t spare the boy a glance, but looked at Lara with all the annoyance of a hungry tiger just deprived of its prey. “I gather this is one of the ‘changes’ you mentioned,” he said.

“Yes.” Sensing that it would be a mistake to show any sign of doubt, Lara stood to face him and made her reply as firm as possible. “I wish I had been able to explain before you saw him… but I intend that Johnny shall live with us from now on.”

The passion and heat faded from Hawksworth’s eyes, his expression suddenly impenetrable. “An orphanage brat?”

She felt Johnny’s little hand slip into hers, and she squeezed it reassuringly. Her gaze didn’t move from Hawksworth’s. “I will explain everything later in private.”

“Yes, you will,” Hawksworth agreed in a tone that chilled her.

Lara left Johnny in the care of the elderly gardener, Mr. Moody, who was cutting hothouse flowers and arranging them in urns and vases for various rooms at Hawksworth Hall. Lara smiled as she saw the child arranging his own little bouquet, sticking flowers in a small chipped pitcher. “Very good, lad,” the gardener praised him, carefully stripping the thorns from a miniature rose and handing it to him. “You have an eye for color. I’ll show you how to make a pretty nosegay for Lady Hawksworth, and we’ll fit it in a little glass tube to keep the flowers fresh.”

Johnny shook his head at the sight of the white rose. “Not that one,” he said shyly. “She wants a pink flower.”

Lara paused at the doorway, surprised and pleased. So far Mr. Moody was the only person besides herself to whom Johnny had spoken.

“Does she now?” Mr. Moody’s craggy face softened with a smile. He indicated the bowers of hothouse roses nearby. “Then find her the best bloom in the bunch, lad, and I’ll cut it for you.”

Lara was amazed by the strength of her feelings toward the little boy, as if a strong current of emotions that had been dammed up for years was suddenly allowed to flow free. In her resentment and shame at not having been able to give Hawksworth an heir, she had never acknowledged her own hunger for a child.

Someone who could accept and return her love without limits or condition, someone who needed her. She hoped that Hawksworth would not forbid her to keep Johnny. She was willing to defy him and anyone else who tried to separate her from the boy.

Sweating in her gray, high-necked muslin gown, Lara went upstairs to her suite and closed the door.

What she needed was to change into a lighter, cooler gown, and strip off her itchy worsted stockings. She untied her apron, dropped it on the floor, and sat in a chair to unlace her serviceable leather shoes.

A relieved sigh escaped her as she worked her toes free of the heavy encumbrances. Next she worked at the buttons of her wrists and the back of her neck. Unfortunately the gown fastened in the back, and she couldn’t remove it without assistance. Fanning her perspiring face, she went to the tasseled bellpull near her bed, intending to ring for Naomi.

“Don’t.” Hawksworth’s quiet voice made her jerk in surprise. “I’ll help you.”