Just One Kiss (16 page)

"No. He didn't." She was compelled to defend her husband, though she felt very much the hypocrite for being unable to divulge the true state of affairs between them. "An unscrupulous man discovered my presence at Morgan's house. He threatened blackmail. Morgan knew there would be no further scandal if we were wed. He proposed marriage to save me from ruin, to protect my good name, with no thought for his own. So you see, the choice was mine, Nathaniel. I married your brother of my own free will."

But Nathaniel's expression had gone rock-hard. "God, but that sounds like Morgan," he sneered. "Always the savior. Always the rescuer."

"Whatever the reason, it's done. I couldn't live with myself if I didn't stand by my own choice." She glanced toward the door. "Please excuse me. I must get back before it gets any later." She turned, crossing the floor, her heels rapping sharply on the wooden surface.

Nathaniel was right behind her. Always the gentleman, he hurried to open the door for her. But before she could leave he turned to her. "Elizabeth, I want you to know… I did intend to marry you. Truly I did. If I hadn't had to leave so abruptly—"

"Then why did you?"

He sighed, his manner once again apologetic. "Elizabeth, if I could tell you, I swear I would. But I can't."

"No, Nathaniel. You
won't
. There's a difference. Surely you see that."

But he said nothing. Only when she started past him did he speak. "Please, Elizabeth. Don't do this. I know you can't be happy with Morgan. My God, he is—"

"He is now my husband," she broke in gently. "And it's already done, Nathaniel." She gave a tiny shake of her head. "We've all made our choices, and now we must live with them. Don't make it more difficult—for any of us. You must accept this marriage as"—she swallowed bravely—"as I have."

There was nothing more she could say. She turned and walked outside, grateful when she heard the door click shut a scant second later.

Back in her room at home, she undraped her shawl and dropped it on the bed, rubbing her fingers against her aching temples. Perhaps, she thought wearily, a hot bath would revive her. As for dinner, she would simply take a tray in her room.

Soon she was soaking in the huge wooden tub. Plumes of steam rose all around her. Wanting to be alone, she dismissed Annie, then rested her arms atop the sides and leaned back. But the peace she sought simply was nowhere to be found. Her restless mind gave her no ease.

Accept this marriage as I have.

She winced. What on earth had possessed her to say such a thing!

Accept this marriage as I have.

Oh, if only she had… if only she
could
.

Behind her, a hinge creaked. Elizabeth frowned. Thinking Annie had misunderstood, she called out, "There's no need for your assistance. I can manage quite well by myself."

There was no reply, only several footsteps followed by a rustle of clothing… "But I'm only too glad to lend it," said a mockery-laden voice that was all too familiar.

It came from directly behind her. Elizabeth shot forward like an arrow, huddling her legs to her chest and hugging her knees tight. Her heart began to pound. Her husband proceeded to kneel at the side of the tub and dribble water from a sponge onto her naked shoulder—as if he had done so every day of their lives—as if he had every right to do so!

He did, chided an unwelcome inner voice. After all, he was her husband.

"Wh-what are you doing?" she stammered.

"I'm scrubbing your back in the hope that someday you'll return the favor."

And God in heaven, he did—with a touch that stole her breath and her very tongue. Discarding his jacket, he rolled up his shirtsleeves. The sponge was tossed; it landed with a
plop
! near her right hand. Liberally soaping both hands, he laved every inch of her back from her nape to the dimpled valley above her hips. His touch was firm and bold; it left a wake of fire wherever he stroked. Elizabeth was too stunned to move.

And then she was afraid to do so.

Nor could she rid her mind of what he'd said.
I'm scrubbing your back in the hope that someday you'll return the favor
. It was outrageous enough that he was present at her bath, yet alone to bathe her so. But the very idea of touching him in such a way, sliding her fingertips down the muscled expanse of his back… why, she'd never even seen a man in his natural state!

On and on her mind roiled. Finally he drew back. From the corner of her eye, she saw him shift to his heels. "The water grows cold, Elizabeth. Don't you think you should get out?"

She blurted the first thing that popped into her head. "How can I? You would see me naked!"

"So I would. But I've already seen you naked, remember?"

She would have preferred that he not remind her. "Ours is not the usual marriage," she managed to say.

"That it's not," he agreed, and now there was a note in his voice that sent a tremor of warning all through her. "Two weeks wed and you've yet to lie with your husband."

Her stomach dove. Somehow she braved a glance over her bare shoulder. He had risen and stood watching her, his regard somber and unsmiling.

"Please," she said, struggling for dignity—what little there was in such a predicament! "You promised I would have my privacy."

He slanted her a faint smile. "So I did, Elizabeth. So I did." He reached for his jacket. "I'll send Annie back up. I'll tell Simmons to have dinner served in… shall we say fifteen minutes?"

Her nod was absentminded, for her mind was racing. He planned to be home, then—so much for her plans for a relaxing dinner alone in her room. As soon as he was gone, she rose and hurriedly dried herself. She didn't linger over a choice for a gown but left it to Annie. The girl chose a deep burgundy satin that brought out the bright gold of her hair.

Morgan was waiting for her in the dining room. Elizabeth glanced at the clock as she hurried in—she was late. She apologized for her tardiness as he seated her. In return he was faultlessly polite, as he was throughout the remainder of the meal.

It was over coffee—a taste for which she was certain she would never acquire—that he turned his head and gave her his undivided attention.

"Simmons tells me you went shopping this afternoon. What did you buy?"

Elizabeth floundered. "I-I'm afraid I found I wasn't in the mood for shopping after all," she said lamely. "It was silly of me to have gone alone."

"I see." Cool gray eyes appraised her. "In that case you should have asked Nathaniel to accompany you."

Elizabeth's gaze flew to his. What she saw smoldering in his eyes made her heart plummet like a stone. "You know," she said weakly. "You know I saw Nathaniel."

"Yes, Elizabeth, I do know. And I must say, you're hardly the accomplished liar that Nathaniel is."

She couldn't tear her eyes from his face. Never had she seen him so grim! She began to tremble, linking her hands together in her lap to keep them from shaking.

"I trust the two of you had a cozy reunion." His tone was less than pleasant.

She shook her head. "It-it wasn't like that—"

"Then what was it like?"

"Surely you can understand that he deserved an explanation," she said with as much calm as she could muster.

"An explanation. Yes, I suppose I can understand. But I wonder, Elizabeth"—his tone was almost lashing—"what else did he get?"

The usually soft line of her lips tightened. "You insult your brother's honor by suggesting such a thing," she said levelly.

"My brother has no honor."

She drew a deep, fortifying breath. "Put yourself in his place for once. I was to marry him. Instead he returned home only to discover I was already married—and to his brother yet. He has every right to know why."

Morgan's lip curled in disgust. "You owe him nothing, Elizabeth. He failed you, and you would give him pity! But Nathaniel is good at fooling people. A shame you haven't discovered that yet. But you will. Eventually, you will."

It was then that Elizabeth realized. Morgan did not dislike Nathaniel. Nor was he impatient or frustrated…

"Dear God," she said baldly. "You hate him. You hate Nathaniel…"

Deep within her she thought he would deny it. Assure her she was mistaken, at the very least… ! But he did neither. Instead, his silence was brutally condemning.

She was both stunned and appalled. What manner of man had she married that he would forsake his own brother?

She stood, drawing herself up proudly and facing him. "Believe what you will about Nathaniel," she said clearly, "and about me. It matters little, because I know the truth. I went to see Nathaniel, yes. I shouldn't have lied about my whereabouts, but I knew you would not like it if you knew. But that is the end of it, for my only purpose was to explain our marriage. It was hardly a lover's tryst—I did nothing wrong. And I will admit to nothing, for I have
done
nothing. Now, if you'll excuse me, I intend to spend the rest of the evening in my room—at the moment, I find my own company far more preferable than yours."

She waited for neither permission nor assent, but swept away in a swirl of skirts, the incline of her chin tipped high as a queen's.

By the time she reached her bedroom, her anger had dissolved into frustration. She changed into nightgown and dressing gown, then stood before the bureau mirror, unmoving. But it wasn't her own reflection she saw; Morgan's features swam before her, his expression taut as a drum, his mouth tight with disapproval.

Her conscience pricked at her. She truly regretted that she had chosen to mislead Simmons. But she was undeserving of Morgan's displeasure—and his veiled accusations.

Her mind was awhirl with unanswered questions. Why was he so openly suspicious of her? It was just as she'd said—she'd done nothing to warrant such behavior. Was it simply in his nature that he was so distrustful? Or had something happened to make him this way?

So engrossed was she in her musings that she didn't hear the connecting door click open and shut. She glanced up with a gasp when the figure of her husband loomed in the mirror behind her.

He wore only a robe, loosely belted at the waist, revealing a wedge of dark, hair-matted chest.

Their eyes caught and held. Hers were wide and startled, his were dark and unreadable.

Her question came in a rush. "What are you doing here?"

He merely shook his head. "I'm afraid you were wrong, Elizabeth. The evening is not yet over"—there was a weighty pause—"for either of us."

Along with his entrance came a seething awareness. Her pulse seemed to stumble. Her mouth went dry as dust. "Wh-what do you mean? What are you going to do?"

A dangerous half smile lurked on his lips. "What I should have done on our wedding night," he said softly.

«
^
»

Deep in the darkness of his soul, Morgan had known it would come to this. He'd known it almost from the start. He'd been fighting it since the moment he'd kissed her…

He was done fighting.

But he resented her for doing this to him, for twisting his insides into knots. For making him want her when she gave her heart to his brother… How many nights had she lain here, in that very bed, thinking of Nat? Dreaming of him? Wishing she were married to Nat and not him?

All this… all this and more tormented him, burning like blisters inside him.

By God, she was his.
His
. She was married to him, not Nathaniel.

He stepped forward. It was time his lofty little bride knew it, too.

And indeed, Elizabeth had gone stiff with apprehension. It seemed to require a tremendous effort to force her lips to move.

"Please leave."

"No, sweet." His smile had yet to waver. "Not this time."

Her heart had begun to quake. "What do you want?"

His gaze, dark and silver, pinned hers. "You," he said softly.

Her mind seemed to stumble. "Wh-why?" she stammered.

He merely shook his head. "A silly question, Elizabeth. You are my wife. Need I say more?"

"But you—you said that you are hardly enamored of me."

"Good Lord, girl. A man and woman hardly need to be in love to share a bed—and the pleasure of each other's bodies."

An icy dread chilled her veins. "You have no right—"

"On the contrary. I have every right. I am your husband. You are my wife. Or were you tempted to forget that when you saw Nathaniel today?"

Elizabeth closed her eyes and fought desperately to bring her panic under control. If only this were a dream! But when she opened her eyes, he was still there.

"That's why you're here, isn't it?" The words came out low and choked. "Because I saw Nathaniel today. I-I saw the way you looked at him yesterday. It's just as I said. You hate him. Only now you would take out your anger on me!"

"Ah, but that's where you're wrong, sweet. I'm not angry. But there's one thing I've discovered I cannot tolerate. I won't have Nathaniel in your bed" —his eyes held hers, a wordless challenge—"and not me."

He was so cool. So utterly in control of himself and his feelings.

And somehow that frightened her even more.

She pressed her lips together to keep them from trembling. She felt as if she'd come face-to-face with her Maker only to be sentenced to some vast unknown world of darkness and cold.

Only now he had reached out and caught hold of her. His palms were disturbingly warm and big. All at once she felt small and helpless in a way that had never happened before.

She raised a hand between them, a halfhearted gesture at best, as if to push him away. "Please, I don't want—"

"But I do, Elizabeth."

Her hand was captured and brought high to rest on his shoulder. He did the very same with the other, even as his hands settled on her waist. And then she was being drawn close—so very close she could hardly take in enough air to breathe without pressing the whole of her body against his.

"So tell me, Elizabeth. What did you find so irresistible in my brother? Did he woo you? Seduce you?" His tone was almost lazy. She opened her mouth to speak, only to discover his eyes had locked on her lips.