"Grant!" she yelped in a broken voice.
He couldn't tell if she was laughing or crying. He reined his mount around to her. Her horse plowed sideways into his. Both horses shrieked at each other in warning.
"Oh, for God's sake." He reached over and, gripping her under the arms, plucked her off her horse and into his lap in one sweeping motion. He snagged her dangling reins and whistled for the stable boy to retrieve her horse. Her body shook with laughter.
"Oh, my Lord. Did you see me? Was that not the funniest--?"
"Get down."
Her face fell and she laid her hands on his chest. "Let me try again. Please!"
Grant exhaled loudly. "Get down, and I'll help you up behind me."
And just like that, her face grew bright again. She slid down, immediately raising her arms to be lifted. He hid a smile, grabbed an arm, and helped her behind him. "Hold on to me."
She squeezed her arms around his torso and rested her head against him. He was certain he felt her smiling against his back.
Fifteen
Grant leaned back on a blanket, letting the late afternoon sun warm his face. He was full from their lunch of cold turkey, cheeses, and apples--though they'd skipped the two bottles of wine that had managed to find their way into the basket, no doubt under Ian's direction.
He was content to observe Victoria exploring the beach, running in the sand, fleeing from approaching waves or studiously examining shells. In fact, time had passed too quickly today. He hated to tear her away, but they needed to get back. He stood, stretched, and collected their blanket. A wind was whipping up and had driven all the locals back to the city. He looked down the strip both ways. Deserted.
"Put on your shoes and pack your things," he called. "We need to get back."
When she waved and ignored him, concentrating on something in the water at her feet, he muttered a curse, then started for the horse to pack up.
The basket clattered to the ground. There was no horse.
After rushing both ways up and down the beach, searching, he realized their transportation was gone, and--he'd wager--not coming back. Stifling a vicious curse, he returned to meet Victoria.
"Where is he?" she asked. She had her hand to her forehead and was scanning the shore.
He ran a hand through his hair. "Stolen? I don't know."
"What are we going to do?"
"We can walk back."
"If you think that's best." She seemed less than thrilled at the prospect. It had taken them two hours over rocky terrain to get here. She glanced down at the shoes in her hand. She was having trouble getting used to them again.
They'd also be walking through a patch of Cape Town he'd rather not venture into after dark. Escorting a beauty with no weapon. He swore under his breath. Just the way to protect her.
Yet when faced with his other choice--staying alone with Victoria until some people from town returned in the morning--he actually was considering it. She might be safer chancing the docks than a night with Grant.
"There are some bathing huts in the next cove. We'll stay there until someone returns."
Victoria exhaled in relief. "Thank you! I wasn't looking forward to blistering my feet." Her tone was animated. In fact, she appeared so excited about the situation, he wondered if she'd untied their only transportation. He narrowed his eyes. Would she do that?
He gathered up their basket, then led her past the wall of rock separating the two beaches. Since the tide had risen, they had to wade past, and the waves crested up to her hips, but she slogged through.
Grant found the first three shelters in the row of brightly colored huts locked, but on the fourth, the door eased open. When he ushered her in, she tripped on her sodden skirts.
"Are you all right?"
"There's a reason women shouldn't wear all this," she said in a bright tone, though she was shivering.
"You need to get out of that." He noted he sounded less than pleased with that proposition.
"Sutherland?" she said in a small voice.
He exhaled loudly. "Turn around and I'll undo the buttons." She twisted around and lifted her hair. Each button revealed more creamy skin, lightly dewed with water. His hands were unsteady by the time he was finished. "Done." His voice was low.
She stood and slipped the dress down her body. This time he didn't turn away. He acted as any other man on earth would when confronted with an enticing woman disrobing, admiring her, wanting her. When she wore no more than a shift, he forced his eyes away to look for something warm she could wear. The best he could find was a pile of folded towels. He handed a couple to her. "Dry off."
She nodded and took the offered cloths, drying her legs and stomach. He never took his eyes from her intimate task as he forced off his boots, throwing them into the corner, and stripped off his soaked shirt to dry his chest. Though uncomfortable, he decided to leave the trousers on. Grant sat on the small floor space, resting his arm on an upright knee, and tried not to think of the fact that he was alone with a nearly unclothed Victoria.
She wrapped a cloth over her shoulders, spread their blanket on the ground, and then sank back down next to him. She rooted through their basket and brought out one of the bottles of wine.
He cast her a chiding look, but when she couldn't open it, he helped and even shared it with her. They sat shoulder to shoulder, passing the bottle back and forth, behaving like the very people he sought to avoid by staying here.
After turning it up a last time, she stowed the bottle, then ducked down and butted her head under his arm. He raised it, wondering what the hell she was doing, and as soon as he did, she settled in under it.
He stiffened, but let his arm rest around her. She laid her head on his chest. And it felt natural. Right.
"I love listening to your heart. It's so strong and calm. Wait, it sped up." She looked up and smiled.
A kind of fatalism crept over him. They were in a cabin, separated from the rest of the world. Fate, destiny, or Victoria had conspired to situate them together here in this isolated place. Grant was tired, so tired of fighting what now struck him as inevitable.
"Will you kiss me?" she whispered against him.
What man on earth would fight this? Why try? Ian had asked him that. Grant had given him an answer, but right now, with Victoria's soft breath fanning across his chest, he'd be damned if he could remember it.
She moved to her knees before him and caught his gaze with her own. Before he'd consciously decided to, he reached out and stroked the curve of her cheek, and from his tiniest touch, the merest whisper of contact, her lips parted and her eyes slid closed. She trembled and her breasts pouted just before him, with her nipples tight against her damp shift.
He groaned low in his throat and ran his thumb over her lips. They felt so moist and soft, he knelt in front of her and replaced his touch with his own lips. She sighed against his mouth, the sound making his erection jerk below them in a sudden flood of heat. Her belly teased him, pressed against the steel of his arousal.
Then Grant had his hands on the back of her head, his tongue sweeping in, urgently, wanting to punish her for making him want her so badly. Without thought, he palmed one nipple through the cloth, and she moaned softly. He brushed the straps from her shoulders, baring her, and when he took both her breasts in his hands, she lapped her tongue against his. She moaned again, and her fingers lighted on his chest, scratching their way down his torso. "Teach me," she whispered against his lips as she dipped down into his trousers to find his swollen flesh, and grasped him.
Now. Now he remembered...deep down, he'd never truly wanted to fight it.
Something--locked away in him--snapped. With a defeated, brutal groan, he pulled her eager hand away and laid her down, pulling her legs to him, spreading them.
"Grant?"
"You want me to teach you? I'll show you something I think you'll like."
He inched her shift up her legs, kneading her thighs and bending down to her.
"I don't know--"
He growled against her inner thigh, "I know." But he sensed her continued hesitation. "Do you trust me?"
"But I thought you would--" She cut herself off. "Yes," she whispered. "I do."