Fallen Angel (20 page)

"That's preposterous," she countered.

"Is it?" I've never had a moment's peace since you forced yourself into my life. You've robbed me of my desire for other women; made me dissatisfied with my lot; cast a pall over my future when I think of it without you, and worst of all, you've made me act contrary to my own principles. What more can you do to me?"

"What more can I do to
you?"
she asked, outrage strangely mingled with contrition. He should be grovelling at her feet, not taking her to task when she was the injured party. "Damn you! You
hurt
me."

For a moment, his gaze faltered. When he brought his head up, the thick veil of his golden eyelashes effectively concealed his expression. "You're right of course, though I plead extenuating circumstances." A crooked smile played across his face. "I'll make it up to you, and that's a promise."

When she remained discouragingly silent, the smile gradually faded though the unrepentant amusement lingered
in his voice. "I see. Nothing will do for you but sackcloth and ashes. Frankly, I've no taste for protracted penance and such like. Do you expect me to wear a hair shirt for the rest of my life?"

"Of course not!" Pride dictated the snappish retort, but nevertheless, Maddie was honest enough to admit, at least to herself, that she had expected more than an offhanded dismissal of the torment he had put her through.

She watched warily as he recovered the whisky bottle she had earlier used against him. He uncorked it and offered it to her. "Drink," he ordered. Then more gently, "It will do you good."

He waited till she had taken a few sips then put the lip of the bottle to his mouth and took a long, greedy draught. "I needed that," he said, and set the bottle aside. "What are you thinking?"

The words startled her. Her eyes, which had been staring into space, flew to his. Without thinking, she answered, "I was wondering what I should tell my husband on my wedding night."

She knew immediately that it had been the wrong thing to say. The glitter was back in his eyes and she could have" sworn that she heard the hiss of his breath as he inhaled it through his teeth. For some reason, she thought her words had wounded him. It surprised her even more when she discovered that she did not wish to cause him pain. She put an uncertain hand on his arm. "Don't give it a thought. I shan't marry anyone under false pretenses."

"Tell me," he drawled, "are you saying this to annoy me on purpose, or do you have an unfortunate knack for saying the wrong thing at the wrong time?"

"I don't know what you mean."

"Forget it! Your sentiments are irrelevant now. As are mine. I told you. I've never yet ruined a woman. We'll be married within the fortnight. Now get some sleep. I'll waken you in an hour or so. By that time your clothes should be dry."

There was no point in arguing. Maddie recognized the ring of authority in his voice. She had heard that tone often enough in school from Miss Maitland in her heyday and knew better than test a temper which was unpredictable at the best of times. She
settled herself in the warmth of the soft sheepskin pelts. The thought occurred to her that she was behaving with remarkable calm under the circumstances. Perhaps she'd had too much to drink. The feeling of euphoria was not unpleasant. Her thoughts wandered. She burrowed deeper. Fleeces, she thought. Jason and his quest for the golden fleece. Medea's Jason . . . Maddie's Jason . . . The male of the species didn't stand a chance when he roused his womenfolk against him. "Have a care, Jason," she murmured drowsily. "Have a care." Sleep claimed her quickly.

The room was hot. For a disoriented moment, with her eyes closed, she did not know where she was. She felt the familiar softness of the sheep pelts at her back. The male scent of him filled her nostrils. He must be very close. She opened one eye, slowly and carefully.

He was crowding her to one side of the cot, leaning over her, and still not a stitch on him. She closed her eyes against the potency of that masculine appeal.

"Are you all right?" he asked. His gentleness surprised her.

For a moment, she was mystified by the question. Both eyes fluttered open. "I'm fine."

"You're not . . . sore—in pain?"

"Oh!" Comprehension dawned. She wriggled surreptitiously beneath the sheepskin. "No." Her surprise was evident. "No," she repeated with more assurance, but she could not prevent the blush that stole across her cheeks.

He smiled at that, one of his rare, unaffected grins which never failed to rob Maddie of that clarity of thinking on which she so prided herself. She found herself grinning back like, as she was later to furiously chide herself, a lovestruck moonling. If she had only kept her head and resisted that potent charm which he projected so unconsciously, events might have taken a different turn.

The back of his fingers lightly stroked her bare arm. "The pain was inevitable, Maddie. It's part of the price of being a woman. If it's any consolation, I've already donned that hair shirt, figuratively speaking. It's dashed uncomfortable, let me tell you. But I won't remove it till you give me permission."

And as if she had been completely castaway, which she knew she was not, tears gathered in her eyes and all she could say
between gulps was, Oh Jason! "Oh Jason" —not even distancing him with his title!

"Don't love." His hand went to the nape of her neck and began a slow, gentle massage. His voice was husky with checked emotion. "I would give everything I have in the world to turn the clock back. I'm not going to ask for your forgiveness. I don't deserve to be let off so easily. I shall try to earn it by so filling your days with happiness and your nights with love that you'll forget the pain and sordidness of our first joining."

She could not doubt his sincerity. The habitual mask of inscrutability had vanished. His heart was in his eyes.

She was deeply affected. She wanted to throw herself in his arms and offer herself as consolation for the pain she saw reflected there. What prevented her?

She looked inward, trying to identify the blurred emotions which flowed and ebbed in such profusion. Guilt. Shame. Dread. Regret.

Deveryn was right. He could have taken her anytime this past week. It was his principles which' had been her best protection. Her own had dwarfed into insignificance from the moment of their first fateful encounter. How had she allowed herself to give this man so much power over her—the man upon whom she was sworn to be revenged? Pain expanded and contracted in her chest leaving a residue of blessed numbness.

She drew herself up to a sitting position and eased back against the wall.

"What time is it?" she asked in as matter-of-a-fact tone as she could manage in the circumstances.

"We have lots of time."

She was mulling over his answer when she detected his smothered chortle.

"Strawberries, ripe and succulent," he mused.

"What?"

Her eyes followed the path of his intent gaze. The sheepskin had slipped to her waist, exposing the ruby red tips of her breasts. Under her horrified gaze, they seemed to swell and throb with a life of their own. Her glance sliced to Deveryn. Amusement warmed that faintly challenging expression.

His eyes leisurely swept over her, then came to rest on a
bared shoulder. "I've found one. I knew I would." One long finger brushed across her skin. Maddie shifted uncomfortably.

"Stop that." The warning was automatic.

"Stop what?"

"You know!"

"Don’t you like me touching you?" he asked softly.

"Of course not."

His hand instantly lifted from her shoulder. Maddie made no attempt to cover herself with the sheepskin which lay across her lap.

Into the silence, she said. "What have you found?"

"A freckle." Again, his hand descended, a butterfly touch, tracing a circular pattern on her arm.

"Oh, is that all!" She couldn't think straight when his hands were on her.

"Are there more? I thought there might be. Where are they hiding?"

. Their eyes held. He was watching and waiting. Cover yourself, Maddie's conscience told her sternly. Her heart gave her a different, contradictory message.

"Why do you want to know?" Her voice was almost a whisper.

"I promised myself I would kiss every last one of them when I finally claimed you for my own."

Maddie fleetingly thought of the horrid spots which had never quite faded from the oddest places on her person—a result of exposing her skin to the sun on those rare occasions when she had indulged in a nude dip in the river Forth on an intolerably hot summer day. He surely did not mean to kiss her THERE! A jolt of heat suffused her loins, and fire seemed to spread upwards from the tips of her toes to the ends of each curly strand of hair on her head. When his mouth descended, and his warm lips brushed her shoulder, she put out a hand in a half-hearted attempt to ward him off.

He captured her hand and brought it to his groin, curling her fingers around the silky length of his arousal. Maddie's heart stopped beating, then raced out of control. Against her express wishes, her thighs parted to the insistent pressure of his hand.

"Strawberries," he said, his mouth open and moist, closing over one throbbing nipple. "My favourite . . ."

The sheepskin was brushed aside and his lips coursed down, heating every inch of Maddie's already feverish skin.

"How many . . . freckles . . . are there?" she asked on a difficult breath.

He laughed softly before answering. "Not nearly as many as I'd hoped. I shall take steps to remedy that deficiency in future."

Future, thought Maddie through a passion-drugged haze. She would not think about that now. Tomorrow was a long, long way off. Touching. She craved it. Until that moment, she had not known the depth of her longing to be held. She was starved for physical contact. That Deveryn was using her for his own purposes—even that could not stifle the yearning which had taken hold.

When he stretched out full length beside her, she welcomed him. "Hold me, touch me," she breathed against his mouth.

"Maddie!" he groaned, gathering her in his arms and holding her close. His kiss was gentle and reassuring until she opened her mouth to him. The taste of surrender was on her lips. Passion exploded through him. His kiss deepened, urging her to accept the more complete possession of his body.

He dragged her leg over his hip. Slowly, ruthlessly battening down his desire, he entered her. When she cried out, he stilled. "Am I hurting you?"

She shook her head. "No. It's not that. But I don't think . . . I can't . . . you must stop."

"Maddie!" he protested, and eased deeper.

"Don't!
"
she implored, and her head began to move restlessly from side to side. "Jason . . . help me! Something awful is going to happen. I can feel it building inside me!"

Her words unleashed some instinct, some primeval force, deep within him. He surged against her, carrying her over on to her back. He braced himself on his hands and levered himself higher, savouring the deeper, more complete penetration. Then he began to move. When she matched his rhythm with her own arching body, he felt the pleasure burst through him like waves of liquid fire.

"I warned you!" she sobbed and in mingled ecstasy and distress, clamped her small white teeth on his arm.

Deveryn scarcely felt the bite of her teeth. Never had this ultimate act involved more than the taking and giving of pleasure. Nothing in his past experience had ever prepared him for this overpowering need to brand this woman as his mate. His movements became rougher. At his hoarse command, she obediently wrapped her legs around his flanks, and he exulted that she would permit him whatever he desired. Her shocked gasp of pleasure brought a chuckle of triumph before the rippling waves of ecstasy claimed him. Never, he thought, as she writhed beneath his thrusting body and he took his own shuddering release, never had a woman ever meant as much to him as this one slip of a girl. They were one flesh. Until that moment, he had never understood the full significance of those simple words.

When it was over, the familiar rush of tenderness returned. He pulled to his side, keeping her fitted to his length. He showered her with unending kisses and lazy, calmly possessive caresses.

Maddie burst into tears. "I told you and told you," she said between sniffles, "but you wouldn't listen."