Wild Heart. Lori BrightonЧитать онлайн книгу.
was always more.
She shivered. Before he thought better, he shrugged the jacket from his shoulders. Disgusted with himself, he tossed the garment toward her, watching it land in her lap haphazardly. Apparently, he hadn’t lost all of his English propriety.
“Oh, thank you.”
He jumped from the rocks, landing with a soft thud to the sand.
“Do you…do you like the ocean?” She scampered after him.
“Not particularly,” he replied.
She stilled and blinked her eyes wide.
He stopped walking, his curiosity overtaking his common sense. “What?”
She shook her head. “I just…” She averted her gaze, and her face flushed a soft pink, like the inside of a shell. “I apologize. Honestly, I hadn’t expected an answer.”
“Why?”
Her flush deepened to a magenta, a magenta that matched the horizon hovering over the sea. “I don’t know,” she whispered.
He tried not to think about how vulnerable she looked in his oversized jacket, tried not to think about pressing his mouth to her rose-colored lips, tried not to think about burying his face in her hair and breathing in her clean fragrance—anything that would make him forget the scent of spices and herbs, the scent of damp earth and jungle. Instead, he focused on the fact that she wouldn’t survive a day in India. Nor would she survive a fortnight with him.
“Did you think me mute? Or mad? A common mistake.” He started down the beach, wondering if she’d follow.
“Perhaps ’tis your demeanor around visitors.”
He released a wry laugh; he couldn’t help himself. “And how is that?”
“Well.” She peeked up at him through her thick lashes.
He stopped again and crossed his arms over his chest, his legs braced apart. “Continue.”
She frowned. “Well, that’s not to say…what I mean is that sometimes you seem a bit…unrefined or uncultured.” She went every shade of red, obviously realizing how impertinent her words sounded. “Well, I didn’t mean that exactly….”
“An animal.” He’d heard the words so many times before he didn’t even flinch.
She flinched, and paled. “I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to.”
She plucked at the yellowed lace on the cuff of her sleeve. Was she embarrassed, or did his presence unnerve her as it did so many others? Why the hell did he care? Why was she any different? She wasn’t.
Leo swallowed hard and closed his eyes for the briefest of moments. “I do not see the purpose of being polite to people who are here to judge and ridicule.”
“I’m not here to judge or ridicule you.”
Her wide blue eyes bespoke of a sincerity he wished he could believe. Certainly, she was as shallow as the rest of them, and if he hadn’t decided he could use a governess to further his plan, he’d frighten her into leaving. If they believed he was willing to learn, they’d never suspect his true intentions.
He started down the beach, focusing on the roar of the waves, the rising sun spreading a palette of pastels across the sky. But at the forefront of his mind, she resided, taunting, tempting. He knew she followed, could hear her harsh breathing as she hurried to catch him.
“You seem very passionate about painting.”
He didn’t answer. How could he? He painted to forget a past no other could possibly comprehend.
She didn’t seem to notice or care about his lack of response. “I know very little about art. Although, I did like to draw as a child. What type of medium do you prefer?”
He slid her a less than encouraging glance and sighed. “Oils.”
“Ah, oils, of course. And do you paint people? Landscapes?”
“Both.” In the few moments with this woman, he’d spoken more than he had in months.
Seeing a shell gleaming pink in the sand, he scooped it up and pushed it into her palm before he thought better. As if he’d just given her a bloody diamond, she smiled up at him, her eyes sparkling. Heat spread through his body, flaring his annoyance. He tore his gaze away and quickened his pace. He’d known the moment he’d seen her watching him from her bedchamber that there was something different about this woman.
“Thank you.” She rushed after him, doubling her strides. “It’s the first shell I’ve received since I had to leave home.”
The sympathetic child that hid deep within his soul nagged at him to ask why she’d had to leave, but he wouldn’t. He wouldn’t care. Her hand suddenly latched onto his upper arm. He stiffened; his instinct was to shrug her away. Taking in a deep breath, he forced his thumping heart to slow. Just a touch, a mere touch.
“Look.” She pointed toward the waves.
A sleek, gray lump skimmed above the surface of the waves. Nothing else loomed on the horizon. Confused, he waited for an explanation.
“A seal,” she said.
The animal hauled itself onto a flat, rocky outcrop, looked at them, and barked.
Ella laughed a brilliant, merry sound that reminded him of the leaves tinkling when it rained in the jungle.
The seal shook its head and then slipped back into the water, with nary a splash.
Grinning, Ella looked up at Leo. The light hit her, highlighting her high cheekbones and showing a face that would inspire Botticelli. His heart stilled, heat spreading through his body like the rays of a rising sun.
Her smile fell, as if she sensed his growing attraction and the sudden danger of being alone with a man more animal than human. “It’s getting late. We should…they’ll be expecting us for breakfast.”
He jerked away from her and started down the shore, angry with himself for falling under her spell. He was here for one reason, and one reason only. That reason didn’t involve a dalliance with a governess.
“Leo, are you coming?”
He didn’t answer, but continued, needing to get away, away from the unsettling emotions she stirred inside him.
“Leo,” she called out.
He gritted his teeth and resisted the urge to turn toward her. Cazzarola, what did she want from him?
“Go back,” he snapped, and climbed up between two boulders.
“I’ll see you after lunch then, for lessons?”
He didn’t respond but disappeared into the safety of the trees.
The scent of earth and decay hovered heavy in the air, pressing down on his chest and making breathing difficult. Yet the pressure, the familiarity of being this close to the ground, the soft dirt cradling his body, brought comfort to his troubled mind. Hidden from view beneath the large, overlapping leaves of some subtropical plant that certainly didn’t belong in England, Leo felt almost safe. The leaves provided a hazy green canopy where he could disappear from sight, from duty, from life.
He could almost forget everything lying here. The fear, his hopes for revenge, the sight of his mother and father dead on the jungle floor. He could almost forget it all, when he thought of Ella. And that scared the hell out of him. He needed to stay focused on his goal and not on a pair of luscious lips that begged to be tasted.
A soft hum reached his ears, and every muscle in his body stiffened, immediately aware of her presence. A song he’d heard in childhood, but he couldn’t recall the words. A sweet voice that seeped through his blanket of greenery and made him want to part those leaves to listen more closely.