A Midsummer Night's Romp (30 page)

She opened and closed her mouth a couple of times before wrapping her arms around herself and shaking her head. “You want to take care of me?”

“I do.”

She had been staring at the floor, but slipped him a look out of the corner of her eye. “Because you think I need you?”

He hesitated, treading carefully. “Partly that. But also because I need you, too, and evidently part of that need is to make sure you're safe and happy.”

“Safe,” she said on a sigh, shaking her head again. She turned to him, putting her hand on his, slipping her fingers around his. “If you knew how important that word is to me, but I really don't want to bore you with my hang-ups. . . . Oh, you're right—to hell with it. I'll just tell you and let the chips fall where they may.” She took a deep breath. “You were right when you guessed that I
grew up in an abusive environment. And yes, it was my father who was the one who did the abusing—verbally, not physically—but my mother was too much of a doormat to ever stand up to him and stop the damage. I got away from them both when I was eighteen, and went to college, which is where I met Sandy. When I was in my late twenties, I fell into a relationship with a man who turned out to be just like Dad.”

She rubbed her arms, and Gunner had to fight himself to keep from folding her against his chest, and placing himself between her and the rest of the world.

“That only lasted for a year, and after that, Sandy convinced me to get some counseling. That's who Dr. Anderson is—she was my counselor for five years. She taught me that I don't have to be a victim, and that not all men are like my dad and ex, and most importantly, that I am a strong person on my own, and don't need approval from anyone to be happy. And that was good, but every man I met since then has been . . . ugh. I can't describe it. It's like I'm in a person-sized hamster ball, and I can't stand having them in there with me. I don't like men touching me, and I certainly haven't been able to trust one to not go ballistic on me like Dad and the ex.”

He put his hand on hers, touched by both the fact that she opened up to him and that she obviously felt differently about him.

“Until you.” She gave him a slow look, one that carried many emotions in it, all of which warmed him to his toes. “You're different.”

“I've been told that many times, but never before has it been a compliment,” he said with a little tightening of his fingers against hers. He wanted to dance and sing with joy at her statement, but knew instinctively that he needed to let her finish her confession. “Just so you
know—I think you're different as well. From any of the other women I know, that is.”

She smiled in response, her fingers lingering on his for another few seconds before she withdrew her hand. “So now you know the worst about me. I launched a revenge plan against Paul—”

“Which you couldn't complete.”

“And I allowed men to dominate me when I should have stood up for myself.”

“You did stand up for yourself, love. I have a brother who suffered some pretty horrendous abuse before our parents adopted him, and I know how much blame he put on himself for being in a situation that was out of his control. You aren't responsible for the actions of others.”

“You sound just like Dr. Anderson,” Lorina said with a light laugh. “And I know that—I truly do. I guess I was just trying to bare my soul to you, all of the ugly bits of self-doubt and such.”

Once again he had to struggle against the urge to take her into his arms. His wounded little Lorina, so bravely determined to share with him her innermost secrets. He blinked a moment at that thought and, without realizing it, asked, “Why?”

“Why?” Her brow furrowed. “Why did I bare my soul?”

“Yes, why? Why tell me this now?” Hope flared to life within him when she bit her lower lip and slid another sidelong look at him.

“Um. I guess . . . I just . . .” She stopped and turned to face him, slapping him on the knee. “Dammit, you're going to make me say it, aren't you?”

“I'm not going to make you do anything,” he said softly, and hoped she understood he was making her an oath.

“That's not what I mean, although . . .” Her militant expression faded into something softer. “Although I do appreciate that. I bared my soul because what you said about us earlier—I like it. I like
you
. A lot. And I think maybe we might have something other than just wickedly hot sex going for us. So I wanted you to know just what you would be getting in me.” She took a deep, quavering breath.

“I'm sorry,” he said, pulling her into his arms. “I tried to stop, but I can't. You just send all my senses reeling, and I have to hold you. Tell me you don't mind.”

“I don't mind,” she said with a little giggle, leaning into him. “But you have to understand that I'm not surrendering myself to you. I won't be anyone's doormat. I won't be my mom.”

He kissed her forehead, knowing full well if he kissed her anywhere else, they'd end up beneath the covers. “I wouldn't want you any way other than how you are. Now, I believe you need to distract me.”

“Really?” She must have sensed how difficult a time he was having leashing his desire, for she scooted off his lap and moved off the bed to pick up a pillow that had fallen to the floor. “Why?”

“My brother and his wife will be up here any minute, and if you don't distract me, I'm bound to pounce on you and demonstrate in no uncertain terms just how much I admire your strength of purpose and delectable body. And mind. I like your mind, too.”

“Nice catch,” she said with another light laugh, and sat down in an armchair a few yards away. “All right, let's go over what we're going to say to Daria.”

Before he could answer, there was a knock at the door, and Elliott popped his head around the door. “You decent?”

“Quite,” Gunner replied. “Come in; we have a few things to say to you.”

“Oh, I hope it's about the wedding, because I'd like to get that planned before Lady Ainslie comes home. Elliott and Gunner's mom, that is.” Alice bustled in after Elliott, giving them both concerned looks. “The doctor says you're fine, which is good, although if you need anything, Lorina, let me know. Your sleepiness aside, I'm dying to talk wedding with you. Mom-in-law will be back in less than a week, and we need to have the plans firm or else she'll take over, and then you'll have every Ainslie relation in the British Isles descending upon you. The woman dearly loves a wedding, and Elliott and I only got away with a minor one because she didn't yet realize how much fun she could have planning one.”

“Wedding talk will have to wait,” Gunner told his sister-in-law with a sidelong look at Lorina. “We're still working things out in that regard, and I don't want Lorina rushed.”

Lorina wrinkled her nose at him. “If only you'd thought about that before you announced to everyone that we were getting married. Go on, tell them about Daria.”

“Daria?” Elliott asked, sitting on the second armchair and pulling Alice down onto his lap. “Ah, the woman who told us about the blackmail. What does she have to do with your wedding?”

“Nothing.” Gunner quickly explained their theory on Daria's involvement with the drugging. “The part we don't understand is whether her husband running Thompson's STD tests is a coincidence or by design.”

“That's one heck of a coincidence,” Alice said, leaning back against Elliott. “Although maybe Mr. Thompson knew Daria, and that her husband was a lab guy, and he asked her hub to do the tests, so it wouldn't get around?”

Gunner stared at her for a second, then turned to Lorina, who moved over to stand next to him. She gripped
his arm in excitement. “There's a connection, isn't there?” he asked her.

“Yes,” she said, all signs of fatigue having disappeared. “Daria used to date Paul. Before she was married, of course, but I gather they were an item. And then they broke up, and things kind of went downhill for Daria.”

“If the relationship ended badly, then that might give her even more motive for throwing suspicion on Thompson,” Gunner said, getting to his feet. “I think we need to have a chat with her.”

“I agree,” Elliott said, patting Alice until she got off him. “I'd like this taken care of quickly, and with minimal police involvement. We don't need any negative publicity surrounding the dig if we want to draw tourists in to view the excavations. Where is Daria now? Does anyone know?”

It turned out that no one did know, and when they all trooped down to the tent area, Daria's tent was empty.

“Her things are still here, though,” Lorina said as they glanced around. “So she hasn't done a runner.”

“That we know of,” Gunner amended, and emerged from the tent to find Roger striding past, a frown firmly affixed to his brow. “Roger, hold up a minute. Do you know where Daria is?”

“Hmm? No, I don't. What's this I hear about you finding treasure? Why would you dig without us? It's too late to film now, but Sue is no end of furious that you'd dig without first telling us. I understand that you feel proprietary about the finds, but really! I thought we were on the same page regarding digging. Your discovery would have made for excellent viewing, and now the best we can do is have a reenactment of you finding the treasure, and then an analysis of just what was buried, and when, and by whom.”

“I think we need to have a discussion with both Mr. Thompson and Daria,” Elliott said at the same time
Gunner started into an explanation of why he had started digging before Roger had returned from town.

“We weren't sure if there was going to be anything there at all, especially since part of the temple had already been dug up,” Gunner finished. “Has someone been to the trench to see if any of the uncovered archaeology is still there?”

“There's nothing but a big hole in the trench,” Roger said, giving him a sad look.

Gunner exchanged glances with Lorina. “It's as we thought. I'm truly sorry, Roger. I had no idea it would end this way. We should talk to Thompson and Daria as quickly as possible. Are they around?”

“Paul's in his trailer.” Roger shot a distressed look at Elliott. “He says he won't come out until his name has been cleared. Daria's whereabouts are unknown. I asked some of the diggers to scout around for her.”

“Then we shall go to him,” Elliott said, and they all turned as a group and went to find Thompson.

Roger trailed after them, calling into his radio for a camera crew to meet him at the caravans. By the time they arrived, Thompson was standing in the open doorway, his arms crossed, and an obstinate expression settled firmly on his face.

“If you've come to arrest me for the theft of the archaeology found in my caravan, I demand legal representation.” Thompson looked along the line of them one by one. “I am innocent, not that I expect anyone to believe me.” He looked hard at Gunner and Lorina. “It's obvious that someone planted the archaeology here to make me look bad.”

“If you don't mind, we'd like to come in and discuss that,” Gunner said, and, without waiting for permission, pushed his way past the archaeologist, taking Lorina with him.

Thompson sputtered a bit, but gave way when the others followed. They arranged themselves on the available couch and chairs, with Gunner taking a stand behind the chair in which Lorina sat.

“I believe I'll nominate myself as speaker,” Gunner said, glancing around at the others. They all nodded. Lorina leaned back and gave him a supportive smile. “First of all, we'd like to get the situation with your tests cleared up.”

Thompson's face went black. “I do not believe I gave you permission to discuss that with others.”

“I'm afraid I had to tell Elliott and Alice about it,” Gunner said, feeling like a heel, but knowing he'd have to continue in order to get to the truth. “I am confident, however, that they won't speak of it to anyone.”

“Absolutely,” Alice said. Elliott murmured his compliance.

Roger looked confused. “What test is this?”

Paul sighed heavily. “It's nothing, just proof I provided to squash an ugly rumor about my health.”

“What we'd like to know is, how did you go about picking the lab for the tests? Was it one your doctor selected, or did you find it?”

Paul looked surprised at the question. “The lab? What does that have to do with anything?”

“It might be the answer to a great many questions, particularly why the stolen archaeology was hidden in your caravan.”

“As a matter of fact, my doctor left the choice up to me, since I had been out of the country for some time on a dig. Daria said her husband ran a lab that performed the tests I desired, and she could ensure speedy results if I used him.” He snorted disgustedly. “The length of time it takes to get results back these days . . . it's positively scandalous.”

“Daria suggested the lab?” Lorina looked at Gunner. “For what purpose? To falsify the results, do you think?”

“Not necessarily,” Gunner answered. “If Daria had access to her husband's records, she might well have been the one to alter the results. We won't know which it is until we talk to her.”

“What's this about falsifying the results?” Thompson asked. “I've told you numerous times I do not have a disease, any disease. Yes, I've been tired a lot lately, but I'm sure it's just overwork.”

“I think you'd better get yourself tested again,” Lorina told him. “And by a different lab. Also, don't have sex without a condom.”

Paul snorted again. “I always do use a condom, not that it's any of your business.”

“I know of one time you didn't,” Lorina said darkly.

Paul frowned.

“Do you think Daria set him up to make people think he had HIV
and
stole the Roman stuff?” Alice asked, looking somewhat confused. “She really has it in for him, doesn't she?”