"Yes. There's that little glade ahead of us. See?" He held the lantern higher, partially illuminating the small clearing cut off on one side by a large fallen tree overgrown with moss.

"Oh, yes. We came through here that first day, when we found the hut."

He nodded and guided her over to the large log. "Here. Sit down and rest a little."

Gratefully Priscilla sank to the ground and leaned back against the tree. She sighed. It had been a long and tiring day.

"I should not have gone to call on Anne," she said quietly. "I didn't think about Will and Mapes being about. I was simply so irritated with you..."

He looked down at her. "I know. When I got home, I wasn't sure whether to strangle you or run out looking for you. Then, when you didn't return..." He pulled his features into a frown. "Don't do that to me again. Do you hear?"

"I won't-as long as you don't cut me out of all the fun."

"Fun? It was anything but. It was boring and tiresome and utterly useless. Besides," he admitted, "it was no fun without you."

"There. You see?"

"I was trying to protect you. To keep you safe. I didn't want you there if I ran into Will and Mapes again. I didn't want you to get hurt."

"You see how well going without me ensured that," Priscilla pointed out sarcastically.

"Only because you were so d.a.m.nably stubborn that you went sailing off somewhere by yourself, just to spite me."

"I wanted to visit Anne."

"Why? What was so urgent that it couldn't wait until I could escort you?"

"Escort me? You think I cannot go anywhere without your escorting me? I should sit in the drawing room twiddling my thumbs until you are available to take me where I want to go?"

"Only until those men were put away. Now they will be, so it will be perfectly all right."

Priscilla gave him a long, cool look. "Men!" she commented, but her pose of regal indignation was spoiled by the long, jaw-popping yawn that seized her.

John chuckled. "Here," he said, leaning forward and taking off his jacket. He folded it up and put it down on the ground for a pillow. "Lie down and rest. You are exhausted."

"But it is so late. Papa will be frightfully worried."

"I don't think it will harm your father to spend a few hours inhabiting the world the rest of us do. You are so tired you will never make it all the way back to your house if you don't rest. A little nap will refresh you." He patted the ground beside him. "I shall wake you before long."

"All right." Priscilla could see the force of his argument. She felt as if she could not take another step. Even the invigorating little discourse with John had not revived her enough to set out walking again. She slid down until she was lying on the ground and turned onto her side. Then she closed her eyes and fell immediately asleep.

John sat gazing down at her. He brushed his hand across her cheek, easing a strand of hair away from her face. She stirred in her sleep and squirmed backward, until her back was flush against his legs. She snuggled into him. Heat flooded him at the feel of her, warm and pliant, against him.

He told himself that he was a cad for thinking the things he was thinking, especially after the ordeal Priscilla had been through. But then he remembered the way she had kissed him in the shed, when their pa.s.sion had overflowed its bounds and swept them away. He found that once he started thinking about that moment, it was difficult to think about anything else.

John stirred restlessly, shifting his position. He wondered what it would be like to have Priscilla lying beside him every night, to wake up to her each morning. It sounded like heaven to him. He wanted her, and he was beginning to realize that he wanted her always and forever, not just for the moment, not just to satisfy the l.u.s.t that gnawed at him whenever he was around her. The more he thought about it, the less sure he was that his l.u.s.t for her could be satisfied so quickly and easily. He suspected that it might plague him for the rest of his life, that as soon as his thirst for her was slaked, it would spring up again.

It struck him that what he was thinking about was marriage. What else lasted for a lifetime? The thought was amazing. He had known Priscilla for such a short time. Yet he could not deny that the thought of being married to her was quite pleasant. They must give it a little time, he supposed, must make sure of their feelings. He might know what he wanted, but he knew he could not a.s.sume that Priscilla felt the same way about him. After all, she was a gently reared girl, not used to... He frowned. Not used to what?

He did not even know what sort of life he could offer her. He did not know whether he was a pauper or a robber baron. He did not know if he had a home or, if he did, where it was. He had no family, no ties, no past. h.e.l.l! He did not even have a name to give her! John was d.a.m.ned if he would marry her as Mrs. John Wolfe. Worse than that, for all he knew, he already had a wife or fiancee waiting for him somewhere, worrying about him and wondering where he was.

No. He could do nothing. He should not even think of Priscilla or a future together until he had solved the mystery of who he was. He had to have a life to give her. Until he did, no gentleman would even speak to her about the possibility.

He frowned, crossing his arms over his chest, and leaned back against the log, thinking about Priscilla. Thinking about the future-or his lack of it. Probing the black recesses of his memory, hoping for something that would make sense, that would spark some bit of understanding in him. Slowly his eyes drifted closed. His breath shifted into a deep, slow rhythm. He was asleep.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN.

PRISCILLA OPENED HER EYES AND BLINKED. It was dark all around, with only a faint light far above her. She was on her side, something heavy lying over her arm and chest, and there was a soft warmth all up and down her back. She felt deliciously enveloped by heat. A long, mournful noise sounded, and she knew that it was what had awakened her. Just an owl, she thought, and closed her eyes, snuggling back into the warmth behind her.

An owl? Her eyes opened again, her foggy mind stirring. Where was she? She was lying on something very hard. Hazily she tried to turn over, but she could not; the weight was heavy.

As she moved, a voice mumbled in her ear, and the warmth behind her shifted. She remembered then that she was lying out in the woods with John. She turned her head, and as she did, her hair brushed against his face. She found herself looking straight into his eyes as they opened. His gaze was as vague as hers had been, but he smiled at her, and his arm moved, his hand sliding possessively over her b.r.e.a.s.t.s and down to her waist. Priscilla could feel the sudden heat that emanated from his flesh. The combination of heat and the touch of his fingers made her own body come immediately alive, aching with desire. Sensations and emotions overwhelmed her mind, which was not yet functioning fully.

"Beautiful," he murmured huskily, continuing to explore her body, and he began to nuzzle the side of her neck, his lips gently nibbling and kissing the sensitive flesh into arousal. "Priscilla..."

His fingers fumbled at the b.u.t.tons of her dress. Priscilla hastened to help him, unb.u.t.toning from the bottom until their hands met in the middle. Then he slid his hand beneath the cloth, onto the soft cotton chemise, caressing her stomach and b.r.e.a.s.t.s. One tug at the ribbon across the top of the undergarment and it came undone, loosening the chemise all the way down. His sensitive fingertips slipped beneath the loose cloth and onto the orb of her breast, stroking the supremely soft skin. Priscilla moaned, thinking vaguely that she should not be doing this, but she found it far too difficult to think why she should not.

Had it been another time, had John not awakened to find Priscilla warm and willing in his arms, he would have tried to stop the course they were taking. He had decided, just hours ago, before he slid into sleep, that he should not even think about making love to Priscilla, knowing that he could offer her nothing until he regained his memory. But hazy with sleep, coming awake with her mouth only inches from his, his hand on her body, John did not even think. He only acted on the hot, hard desire that was coursing through him.

He dragged down the top of her chemise, revealing her soft white b.r.e.a.s.t.s. The globes quivered faintly, the pink-brown nipples tightening in the cool air. Pa.s.sion slammed like a fist down through him at the sight of them, budding eagerly. He let out a groan as he cupped one breast in his hand. It filled his palm, heavy and soft. He stroked his thumb across her nipple, as he had done last night through her dress, and watched the swift response. His hand roamed her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, taking each nipple and rolling it gently, caressing and teasing them so that they pebbled, loving the feel of them growing harder in his hands.

He glanced up at Priscilla's face. She was flushed, even in the dim light, and her eyes were closed, her lips slightly parted as she breathed in heavily. She was the very picture of a woman in the grip of desire, and the sight stirred John even more. He bent and kissed her nipple. She jerked, moaning, in response. Smiling faintly, he kissed the other one and looked back up at her. Her tongue crept out, wetting her lips, and her breath came faster.

Cupping her breast, he took the nipple between his lips, rubbing and pressing it with velvet pressure, then lazily wetting it with his tongue. He heard Priscilla's quickly indrawn breath and felt her arch beneath him, startled and aroused. He traced the nipple with his tongue, licked and circled it.

Priscilla was flooded with wild, delightful sensations as his mouth worked its magic on her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. Her hands clenched into fists, and her heels dug into the ground, tension building in her with each movement of his hot, wet tongue. She let out a choked moan as he pulled the nipple into the damp heat of his mouth and began to suckle it. It seemed as if a cord ran directly from her nipple, so amazingly alive and sensitive, straight down through her into the core of her being. With every pull of his mouth, every stroke of his tongue, the cord tugged and pulled, sending bursts of flame into her loins.

She reached out, her hands digging into his hair and clenching frantically with each new wave of delight. By the time he moved to her other breast, she was almost sobbing with pa.s.sion. Her legs moved restlessly, the ache between them growing and throbbing. She squeezed her legs together, moaning, and her hands moved down his neck and onto his shoulders, caressing and exploring, seeking something she was not even aware of. Her hand slipped inside the collar of his shirt, touching his hot, damp skin, and she knew that that was what she wanted. She yearned to have his firm flesh beneath her fingers, to explore and arouse.

She made a wordless noise of frustration, and he sat up. His face was stark with desire, and his eyes were dark, molten pools. He ripped off his shirt, heedless of the b.u.t.tons, and threw it aside. He sat like that for a moment, looking down at Priscilla, eating her up with his eyes, studying the soft curve of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, the nipples proudly pointing and damp from the ministrations of his tongue, darkened with desire.

Priscilla felt the stir of the cool night air on her damp nipples, felt them tightening even more. She was also aware of the damp heat pooling between her legs, of the empty ache there that desperately sought fulfillment. She wanted to wantonly spread her legs, wanted to pull up her skirts and feel his hands, his eyes, on her there. She blushed even at the thought. But even her embarra.s.sment and her unsureness could not keep her from reaching out and putting her hands upon John's chest. His skin seared her hands. She moved them over his chest, exploring the layering of bone and muscle, the hard, masculine nipples, the crisp, curling hairs that grew there. His flesh grew even hotter, and sweat popped out on his upper lip. He closed his eyes, a groan escaping his lips.

Panting, John reached down and took her by the shoulders, lifting her up and pushing the sleeves of her dress down her arms with fingers made clumsy by desire. When Priscilla realized what he was doing, she moved quickly to help him, twisting out of the bodice of her dress and leaving it on the ground behind her. Her fingers trembled as she reached around to her side and began to undo the hooks of her skirt. She glanced up at John once and saw him watching her, his glazed eyes fixed on the movements of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s as she twisted and pulled. Then she lay back down atop the bodice and began to push the skirt and petticoats down onto her hips.

John was quick to help her, hooking his hands in the waistbands and drawing everything, petticoats, skirt and underpants, down to her knees in one swift movement. Priscilla kicked them off as he knelt there, drinking in the sight of her completely naked before him. His eyes roamed over her b.r.e.a.s.t.s and down to the plain of her stomach and abdomen, taking in the sharp thrust of her pelvic bones and coming to rest on her legs and the soft thatch of hair that lay between them.

"You are so beautiful," he said huskily. "I could look at you forever."

Priscilla lay quietly beneath his gaze, stirred by the heat in his eyes. He reached out and laid his hand upon her chest, skimming it down over her breast and stomach in the same way that his eyes had touched her. Her flesh quivered under his touch, exquisitely sensitized, so that she felt the texture of his skin as it moved along hers. Priscilla jumped a little when his hand touched the thatch of hair, and he paused. He traced his forefinger over and down onto her leg, then back up and across to the other leg. Gently he moved up the inside of her legs, teasing them apart.

Priscilla stirred under the sweet torture of his fingers. She wanted him to do more; she wanted him to touch her at the center of her heat. Yet the thought of it frightened her, too. Tension built in her as his fingers teased her, advancing and retreating, until before long she was so aching for release that she arched her pelvis upward, silently seeking him.

At that moment, he slid his fingers down into the crevice between her legs, threading through the soft, curling hair and onto the slick, hot flesh. Priscilla shuddered at the touch and bit back a groan, aroused past anything she had ever known could exist. Gently his fingers worked between the folds of flesh, down and up, grazing over a little nubbin and making Priscilla twist and moan in response. She clenched her fists on the ground beneath her, digging into the soft moss. Unconsciously she opened her legs wider, giving him greater access to the deep recesses of her femininity.

John sucked in his breath at the silent invitation. Pa.s.sion pounded in him until he was almost dizzy with it, hard and aching for a release that he knew must be delayed for Priscilla's sake. He forced himself to continue to probe softly, instead of plunging himself deep into her, as he wished. Stripping off the remainder of his clothes, he lay down on his side, letting his fingers roam and explore while he took her mouth in a kiss. Priscilla quivered at the double delight. As his tongue came into her mouth, he slid a finger gently into her. Startled, she stiffened, but he slowly stroked his finger in and out, matching the movement with that of his tongue. She felt filled by him everywhere, and the feeling was almost unbearably arousing.

He kissed her again and again while he opened her wider, filling her now with two fingers, stretching her pleasurably. His mouth left hers, trailing down her neck and to her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. He sucked at her nipple, flicking it to life, and as he did so he moved his fingers rhythmically in and out, and his thumb located and caressed the hot b.u.t.ton of flesh. Priscilla whimpered at the wild sensations. She felt filled and possessed, as if he had taken control of her senses, and yet the sensation was not frightening, but delightful. There was such pa.s.sion building in her that she thought she might explode at any moment.

Then he moved between her legs and, raising her hips, he began to probe at the gates of her femininity. Priscilla gasped at the unfamiliar touch, strange, yet curiously exciting. He moved slowly into her, stretching and filling her, and she wrapped her arms around him, urging him closer. He panted, sweating with the effort of restraining his pa.s.sion so that he did not frighten or hurt her.

Priscilla was aware of a startling flash of pain, and then he was deep inside her, filling and fulfilling her in a way that she had never imagined. She wrapped her legs around him convulsively and held on, trying to absorb all the sensations bombarding her. He began to move within her, stroking forward and backward in a primal rhythm that left her trembling and breathless. She moved with him, taking in the slow, deep thrusts, her fingers digging into his shoulders. A moan escaped her as the tension built in her again, screaming along her nerves and tightening the knot in her abdomen.

Soon it seemed as if there were nothing to her but the yearning ache deep in her loins, the hunger that grew and expanded, sweeping her along toward some future she could not envision, yet wanted desperately. Then the knot within her exploded, hurling her into a velvet oblivion. She let out a soft cry of delight and surprise, and her body shuddered. John answered with a hoa.r.s.e groan, pumping wildly into her. Priscilla clung to him, lost in a swirl of pleasure.

He collapsed upon her, sweating and spent. Slowly, blissfully, she floated back from the far reaches of pleasure. John kissed her neck and rolled off her onto his side, still cradling her in his arms. Priscilla snuggled into him, too filled with joy to speak or even think coherently. And soon they slid back into sleep.

THIS TIME, WHEN THEY AWOKE, the pale light of dawn was filtering down through the filigree of the tree branches above their heads. John opened his eyes, aware of nothing for a moment but a deep sense of contentment. Then the full understanding of what he had done the night before jolted him. He jerked upright, startling Priscilla.

"What?" She blinked up at him. Her mind was still fogged by sleep, though she was aware of a deep sense of happiness inside her. The world looked brighter this morning, more beautiful.

"My G.o.d." He gazed down at her blankly.

"What?" Priscilla struggled to sit up on her elbow, alarmed at his expression, and as she did so, she became aware of the fact that she was lying there naked. She woke up completely then, memories of the night before flooding in on her. Oh, dear heaven! Had she been mad?

John's eyes went to her bare b.r.e.a.s.t.s, which were swaying with her movement, and desire snaked through him, despite his horror. He groaned, reaching out and grabbing one of her petticoats and wrapping it around her, hiding her from his eyes. Priscilla took it gratefully. It felt so strange to be sitting there unclothed with a man. And yet... She could not help but remember how wonderful last night had been, how beautiful. She had felt something she had never even dreamed of, and though she knew that others would probably condemn her, Priscilla found herself unable to regret it. Whatever might happen, last night would always remain in her heart.

"I am so sorry. I never meant-" John began, then stopped. "I mean, I thought I had better control of myself. If I had not been half-asleep- But when I woke up, there you were, and so desirable. I didn't think."

"You regret what happened?" Priscilla tightened, her voice cool.

He stared at her. "No. I don't regret what we did. It was the most wonderful thing I have ever experienced."

"Really?" Priscilla's expressive face lit up. "It was for me, too, but I didn't think it would be like that for you."

He pulled her to him impulsively, wrapping his arms around her and burying his face in her hair. "It was beautiful," he a.s.sured her. "And you were wonderful...indescribably wonderful."

Priscilla released a small sigh of satisfaction and snuggled against him. The doubts she had been feeling were dissolving quickly. She loved John, and last night had been a perfect expression of that love. Though he might not realize that he loved her yet, his words indicated that he had at least found last night to be just as wonderful as she had. "Good. Because I liked it exceedingly."

Again he felt his response shooting through him like fire, and he knew he was already growing hard, wanting her.

"Priscilla..." he groaned, releasing her. He smoothed his hands down over her hair, pulled loose from its pins and flowing everywhere. He twisted his fingers into her tresses. "You are so beautiful, so utterly desirable...G.o.d, I want to make love to you again."

Priscilla smiled back at him. "Then why don't you?" she asked provocatively.

His mouth went dry at her words, his heart picking up its beat. He could not keep from thinking about lying back down on the ground with her and making love again. He remembered her pa.s.sionate response the night before, and wondered what she would be like when there was no newness, no pain.

He swallowed hard and stood up, turning away. "You know why not. It would be madness. You don't even know who I am. I could be married and have seven children, so that I could not give you the protection of my name. I could be a scoundrel, so that my name would be a scandal itself, not a protection."

"It is not your name I am asking for," Priscilla replied evenly. What she really wanted was his heart, she knew, but for now his lovemaking would be enough for her.

"It is not just my name. It is what I am that worries me. I can't help wondering why Benjamin Oliver knows me and why he wants me shut away. I keep thinking-what if I am a crook, too?"

"You are worrying about nothing." Priscilla refused to believe that he was married, telling herself that surely he could not forget a wife and a family as if they were nothing. Besides, he wore no wedding band, and, while Mapes and Will might have stolen it, there was also no whiter band against his tanned skin where a wedding ring would have been. As for his other worries, that he might be a scoundrel, Priscilla dismissed them as rubbish. She knew he was a good person. Others might balk at the idea that he was an American and that one did not know who his family was, but Priscilla did not care about such things. It was what a person was that was important, not whether his family went back to the Conquest or not. Her own family was quite genteel, but where had that ever gotten them? It was all silly pride, she thought.

John took another tack. "Your father and Miss Pennybaker will be worried about us, you know."

Priscilla's eyes flew open wide, and her hand came up to cover her gasp. "Oh, no! You're right. This is dreadful."

She began to pull on her clothes, castigating herself for having fallen asleep last night. It did not speak very well for her, she thought, to have forgotten her father and her governess because she had been swept away by her own pa.s.sion. She had been thoughtless and selfish.

Priscilla finished dressing and brushed the leaves and twigs from her clothes as best she could, running her fingers through her hair in lieu of a brush. She realized what a mess she must look. Thank heavens there would be no one to see her come in except her family. Looking at her, others would probably suspect that she had been-well, doing exactly what she had been doing. Still, she didn't want the whole village of Elverton knowing it.

"Do I look all right?" she asked anxiously, giving her skirts a final shake.

"You look beautiful," John replied, smiling, and leaned down to kiss her on her forehead.

"You know what I mean."

"Yes, you look fine. Alive and healthy and like someone who had to spend the night in the woods, but none too worse for wear for having been kidnapped."

"I suppose that will have to do."

They left the clearing, heading back the way John had come last night. It was much easier going in the daylight, and they were able to see where to turn to take the more direct path to Priscilla's home. Soon they were able to see Evermere Cottage ahead of them. Their steps sped up. As they reached the rear yard, the kitchen door burst open and Mrs. Smithson rushed out, arms wide open.

"Priscilla! My little love!" she sobbed, then tossed back over her shoulder, "Miss P.! Master Florian! It's her! She's home safe!"

Priscilla flew into the other woman's motherly arms. Mrs. Smithson patted her, crying, taking her by the shoulders and shaking her, telling her fiercely that she ought to know better than to go off like that, then pulling her back to her ma.s.sive bosom for another bonecrushing hug.

Behind them, Florian ran through the door. His white hair was flying every which way, and he wore no jacket, only his shirt, one sleeve rolled up and the other still fastened by a cuff link, and a waistcoat, which hung open and flapping. His disarray was normal, but the lines of worry in his forehead were not, nor were the tears of relief in his eyes.

"Priscilla!" He crossed the last few steps and pulled Priscilla out of Mrs. Smithson's arms, which was no small feat. He looked at her and started to speak, but then just crushed her to his chest, saying her name again.

"Oh, dear! Oh, my!" Miss Pennybaker came out the door and fluttered across the yard, followed by the vicar, Dr. Hightower, the general and Alec.

Watching them, John groaned inwardly. So much for their hopes of keeping Priscilla's abduction quiet.

"Dear girl!" the vicar exclaimed, shaking his white head as he hobbled across the yard, using his cane.

The general and the doctor quickly outstripped him, but stopped a few feet from Florian and his daughter. Mrs. Smithson stepped aside, beaming at her employers, and Miss Pennybaker fluttered around agitatedly, touching Priscilla's hair or arm or back.

"Oh, dear! Oh, my!" she kept saying. "I was so afraid. Oh, Priscilla, it is so wonderful. A miracle! That's what it is. Wouldn't you say so, Reverend?"

"Yes, indeed..." the small man began, smiling, but Miss Pennybaker did not wait for an answer to her question, but hurried on.

"All night long we waited. We were so worried about you. All of us." Her hands fluttered toward the rest of the group. "It is so wonderful to see you alive and well and- You are well, aren't you, dear?"

She stopped fluttering for a moment and began twisting her handkerchief in her hands instead, watching Priscilla anxiously.

"Yes, I am quite all right," Priscilla rea.s.sured her, giving her father a final squeeze and stepping back. "Nothing happened to me. I mean, well, obviously something happened, but I was not hurt. Honestly. You must not worry, Miss P."

At that the governess burst into tears. Priscilla went to her and pulled her into her arms, patting her back and murmuring comforting things. "Hush, now, Miss P. I am all right. I promise you. And I'm back, and-"