Captive Hearts (7 page)

“My brother once told me so as well.” She struggled not to allow her gaze to waver. “Back up.” When he hesitated she added, “I should hate to give you a lead ball for a wedding gift.”

A formidable scowl drew his black brows together. “If that’s a jest, I don’t find it amusing.”

“I do not find it so either,” she snapped, loosing some of the emotion that ricocheted through her. The flintlock wobbled and she steadied it with her other hand.

“Since when is it insulting for a husband to offer to take things slowly when initiating his wife.”

“You are not my husband. You will never be my husband.”

His look of speculation brought another surge of panic racing through her. Her legs felt numb with shock.

Why had she ever believed Edward? He had known what she wanted to hear and had fed her the lies a piece at a time. Why had she been fool enough to believe anything he said?

She tripped over the edge of the rug shoving the metal barrel against him with more intimate familiarity than she intended.

“Have a care where you place your feet, Madame. I’m rather attached to that part of my anatomy and don’t wish to be maimed by a careless shot.” She stifled an embarrassed moan and fought the urge to look down at the area where the gun pressed. “That would indeed insure a reason for annulment, would it not?” “You don’t need to do this, Katherine.” They reached the doorway of the dressing room.

“Yes, I do, Captain. I do not feel I can trust you to keep your distance since you have already resolved yourself to the situation instead of seeking out a solution to it.” She drew a deep breath to steady herself for her heart raced so she could hardly breathe, and she was close to tears. “Please step inside the dressing room.”

“And if I refuse?”

She swallowed and squared her shoulders. “I will have to shoot you then say it was an accident.” He studied her for a moment. “I’ve yet to force myself on a woman, Katherine.”

“I am certain you truly believe that.” His frown deepened as his gaze once again probed hers. “I’ll give you my word that I won’t touch you.”

“You already did, and you did not keep it.” She motioned him back with the pistol. “Please step inside the dressing room.”

With open reluctance, he stepped back over the threshold.

She closed the door and secured the lock. She leaned back against the portal, her legs shaking beneath her.

Instant tears burned her eyes and she swallowed back the sob that raced up her throat and begged to be released.

His deep voice sounded muffled by the door. “It has been nearly five months since I’ve slept in a real bed and the floor is not an inviting prospect.” She smothered the quick feeling of guilt. “I am truly sorry, but I won’t be trapped in a marriage I should grow to hate. And I refuse to be used at your whim like—like a piece of furniture. Tomorrow, we will find a solution.”

****

After an hour’s wait, the walls of the dressing room began to close in on Matthew. He rolled off the daybed to his feet and strode to the door to listen for any sound from without. Listening for an hour to Katherine’s muffled sobs had not been a pleasant experience. Knowing she abhorred, to such an extent, even the idea of being married to him had been equally so. He knelt before the door and inserted the buttonhook into the lock. Jiggling the metal stem and twisting it, he heard the satisfying click of the mechanism releasing.

Rising to his feet, he rested his hand on the knob and

turned it gingerly. Katherine only had one shot. There might be a good chance she’d miss, if she fired.

He stood back against the wall to one side as he gave the door a gentle push. It swung open wide. Silence followed. Tensed to dive for the floor, he stepped through the portal. His gaze swept the room for any threat.

Katherine, dressed in a simple cotton shift, lay curled on her side on the bed, her woolen robe draped over her feet. The flintlock pistol, with which she had threatened him, rested on the bedside table within easy reach.

His stocking clad feet made little sound as he crept to the table and picked up the firearm. He didn’t relish being shot should she awaken.

His gaze fell on her features. The auburn crescents of her lashes appeared dark with moisture against the paleness of her skin and tear tracks marred her smooth cheeks. Her eyelids appeared red and puffy from crying, her pale pink lips pouting as a soft breath escaped from between them. The creamy perfection of her skin tempted him. He knew from experience it felt like warm silk.

His gaze trailed downward. The light muslin shift she wore followed the contours of her body like a lover’s hand. The fabric caressed the full, unfettered thrust of her breasts and tapered to a dainty waist and slender hips.

The folds of the garment, caught between her thighs, outlined the graceful shape of her legs. Matthew knew, in that moment, he had never seen anything quite as lovely as the woman who lay asleep before him. The liquid heat of desire raced down his body. He grew hard and aching with need. He found his hand outstretched, reaching for her before he caught back the betraying digits. His fingers curled into a fist, his mouth growing dry.

His eyes traced the classic perfection of her profile.

She had brought hope and beauty into his small dank prison cell. That alone would have made it difficult for him to keep his distance. Now he had seen her like this, knowing she was legally bound to him, it would be nearly impossible. He didn’t want a wife any more than she wanted to be one, but he’d had a fortnight to adjust to the situation. Having no choice had been a great qualifier in the process.

Marriage was after all like any other partnership.

There would be compromises and sacrifices, rewards and disappointments. It would be up to them to decide what they would make of it. She would eventually come around to realizing and accepting that. She had no more choice than he did.

For the first time all day, his thoughts turned to Caroline. A pain only partially dulled by time lanced through him. God how he had loved her! Never again would he leave himself open to such pain. Having married for convenience sake was a blessing. Neither of them had to grow emotionally attached to each other in such an arrangement.

His attention turned to the wide expanse of empty space beside Katherine. It had been more than four months since he had known the comfort of a real bed. He wondered if he could share the space beside her without reaching for her. He wouldn’t force her to accept him as a husband. And in her current frame of mind that would be the only way she would. Matthew flinched. The realization steadied him and damped the flames of his desire to a controllable blaze.

Careful to keep his attention directed away from her, he tucked the flintlock beneath the mattress for safekeeping, then hurriedly stripped off his clothes, and turned down the lamps. Slipping between the covers, he bit back a sigh of pure pleasure and closed his eyes.

When she awoke to find herself in bed with him there’d be hell to pay. He didn’t care. It would be worth it.

Katherine opened her eyes to a wide, bare, masculine chest covered in swirls of dark hair. Shock held her immobile as her sleep-dulled mind leaped to complete wakefulness. A tremor of reaction raced down her body, and her heart drummed a frantic rhythm against her ribs making it difficult for her to breathe.

The light pressure of an arm rested against her back holding her, while her thigh looped over his with shameful familiarity. A tingling, wild heat traced the length of her body wherever his touched. She drew a slow, calming breath as she waited for the sensation to abate.

How had Matthew gotten out of the dressing room and how long he had been in bed with her? When he awoke, he was certain to be angry. Dread brought a hollow feeling to her stomach. The confrontation that was sure to come would surely be difficult. She lay motionless, fearful of waking him.

The slow steady rise and fall of his breathing beneath her head eased her anxiety and she began to relax. With her head cupped within the hollow of his shoulder, her cheek rested against the soft hair on his chest. The short curling matt did little to hide the well-defined muscle beneath. Curious, her gaze followed the narrow line of hair arrowing down the middle of his stomach. She realized her hand lay against the lower portion of his abdomen beneath the covers, her fingertips brushing hair there. Mortified, her cheeks burning, she eased her hand away, but knew not where to put it. She straightened her arm and laid it along her hip.

The bare skin of his thigh seemed meshed by warmth and moisture with hers. Tendrils of sensation raced upward to settle in the nether regions of her body.

Katherine bit back a moan of frustration. Raising her head so as not to put any more pressure on his shoulder, she tilted her bent thigh upward then swiveled her hips.

The blankets layering the bed pulled away, baring more of his naked torso. Embarrassed, yet fascinated, her attention focused on the spot where the covers hung low over his hips. Realizing how unseemly her interest was, she forced her gaze upward.

The lower half of his jaw appeared shadowed by the stubble of beard, the heavy growth outlining the sensual curve of his lips and emphasizing the strong structure of his jaw. Her gaze followed the straight arrogant shape of his nose upward to the bridge. Well-arched brows traced the ridge of bone over his eyes. Dusky lashes fanned against the smooth skin of his high cheekbones. She stilled the surprising urge to trace the rugged masculinity of his features with her fingertips and test the texture of his skin.

Confused by the sudden desire, she eased into a sitting position only to find her shift caught firmly beneath his hip. She tugged on the tail of the garment and the fabric slid free so suddenly she almost fell over the edge of the bed.

He sighed in his sleep then turned toward her on his side. She swung off the bed just as his hand slid over the empty place where she had lain. The lean line of his hip, thigh, and buttocks lay bare to her perusal.

She stared at his long limbed, powerfully built body stretched out before her. Dark as a raven’s wings, his hair hung in heavy waves along the side of his face and pooled like spilled ink on the pillow beneath his head.

He could have attacked her at any time during the night, yet he hadn’t. The protective way he had held her in his sleep brought a quivering, uneasy feeling to the pit of her stomach. Now he lay completely vulnerable to her gaze and to the chill permeating the room. She moved around the foot of the bed to retrieve the heavy coverlet lying in the floor. Slowly she slid it upward over the sleeping man, securing his modesty and his warmth.

With a conscious effort, she dragged her attention away from Matthew. There was much to be done if she meant to leave for Summerhaven within the next few days. She had to get started. She slipped silently into the dressing room to gather her clothes.

****

“Where did she say she was going, Bradley?” Matthew shrugged into the waistcoat and began to do up the buttons.

The valet turned to answer the impatient inquiry, his narrow face as indomitably composed as always. “She said she had an appointment, sir, and told me to allow you to sleep as late as you would. I must say I’ve never known you to sleep so soundly, but you do look rested.” All those months of sleeping with one eye open to protect himself from Hicks had finally taken its toll. His gaze lingered on the discarded shift draped on the daybed.

A vision of how she had looked while wearing it taunted him. “Did she say when she would be back?”

“No, she didn’t.”

Niggling unease slithered into the pit of his stomach.

Why had she left before the rest of the house had risen?

Had she not wanted anyone to know where she was going? Or had she hoped to avoid him? Would she be back?

“Who did she take as escort?”

“Her maid, sir and Lord Willingham’s driver.” Bradley held his long coat for him.

He slid his arms into the sleeves and adjusted the cuffs of his shirt. At least she had taken a chaperone and her clothes still resided in the dressing room. An instant awareness of his duty to Katherine, as well as hers to him came to mind. Some rules would have to be set about their behavior if they were to appear a normal married couple. Her absence had already caused him embarrassment with Bradley and a certain amount of uneasiness.

Bradley bent to gather the discarded clothing that lay upon the floor next to the bed. A stocking lay just out of the man’s sight between the bedside table and the frame. Matthew retrieved it and turning offered it to the valet. Spying dark brown spots upon the sheet, he tossed back the coverlet and stared at them. What the hell?

There were flecks of blood upon the bed. Confusion and anger warred within him. He hadn’t touched her. There had been no consummation. After being so adamant about it, why would Katherine create proof of an event that

hadn’t taken place?

“I’ll have the maids change the linens, Mr. Matthew,” Bradley said from beside him.

He nodded then turned away uncertain of his expression. What game was she playing? All the things he might do and say to her once she returned raced through his mind. Flipping her over his knee and paddling her precious behind ranked high on his list.

“Lord and Lady Willingham have held the midday meal for you, sir.” Bradley’s voice behind him drew him out of his contemplation.

“I’ll join them now, Bradley.”

As he entered the dining room, Clarisse rose from her place at Talbot’s right to embrace him. “Is Katherine sleeping late?”

“No, she had an errand to run early this morn and has already risen and gone. She’ll return shortly.” Should she make a fool of him by extending her absence, she’d regret it.

Talbot shot to his feet with such suddenness his chair tipped over, striking the floor with a sharp crack. “Where has she gone?” His square-jawed features took on a concerned look, his stocky frame posed for action.

The sharp report of a door slamming came from the front of the house. The indistinct murmur of voices approached the dining room.