Prince Charming (17 page)

“What are you doing?” she asked.

He sat down. She tried to get out of his way. Her nightgown was trapped under his thigh and she tried to pull the thing free, but Lucas turned her attention again when he put his hands on her shoulders.

“Look at me,” he commanded.

His voice was gruff, filled with irritation. She let him see how disgruntled she was. “Do you know, Mr. Ross, you become irritated at the drop of a hat.”

“I want you to answer a question for me.”

“All right. What is it?”

“Why did you marry me?”

She couldn't look him in the eye when she answered him. Her full attention was centered on his throat. “To protect my inheritance.”

“And?” he prodded.

She sighed. He was like a cat after a ball of yarn. He wasn't going to give up until he had all his questions answered. “To prevent Uncle Malcolm from marrying me to the first rake he spotted.”

Lucas shook his head. There was still more than she was telling. He was sure of it. “And what other reason did you have?”

“I married you for the greater good. There, I've told you all you need to know.”

“What greater good?”

She shook her head. “You shouldn't be sitting on my bed,” she announced with as much indignation as she could muster. “It isn't appropriate. I sleep under the covers. You sleep on top, remember?”

“We're married,” he snapped. “Anything's appropriate.”

She opened her mouth to say something, then promptly shut it again. Her mind emptied of every thought. She stared up at him and simply waited to see what he would do.

She wasn't afraid of him. The second she remembered that important fact, she started breathing again.

She didn't have any idea how long they stared at each other. It seemed an eternity to her. Lucas seemed to be making his mind up about something important, and from the frown on his face, whatever he was considering wasn't very pleasant.

“You're my wife, Taylor.”

She didn't like the sound of that. “Are you telling me you wish to exercise your . . . rights as my husband?”

She could barely get the question out. She looked appalled by the very idea. Her reaction chafed. He suddenly wanted to throttle her and kiss her at the same time.

Lucas suddenly realized his mistake. He'd gotten too close to her. He could feel the warmth of her skin beneath his hands and all he could think about was touching her. He wanted to taste her, devour her. One kiss, he told himself, just one kiss. Then he would be satisfied.

Hell, he was lying to himself again. He didn't want one kiss. He wanted it all. “No, I don't want to exercise my rights as your husband.”

He sounded angry. Taylor couldn't help but be stung by his attitude. He didn't have to look so horrified by the mere idea. She knew she should be feeling relief. She wasn't though. Although she wasn't ready or willing to give herself to Lucas Ross, she still wanted him to find her a little desirable. Every wife wanted her husband to think she was attractive, didn't she? Taylor was honest enough to admit she wanted Lucas to think she was at least pretty.

He, however, acted repulsed by the very thought of touching her.

It was ridiculous for her to have hurt feelings. Yet she was devastated. She was just tired, she decided. Surely that was the reason his rejection made her feel so inadequate.

Yes, she was overly sensitive tonight, and Lucas Ross was an insensitive lout. “Some men find me attractive.”

She hadn't meant to blurt that thought out loud. She let out a sigh. “At least I think they do. You don't like me very much, do you, Lucas?”

“I like you just fine,” he replied.

She didn't look like she believed him. He could tell from her expression he'd hurt her feelings. He decided to try to make her understand his position.

“Do you know why I won't touch you?”

“Yes,” she answered. “It's quite simple for anyone to understand. You don't want me. An imbecile could figure it out.”

“I didn't say I didn't want you.”

“Yes, you did.”

“I do want you.”

Her eyes widened in surprise. Then she shook her head at him. The conversation had taken a bizarre twist. He decided he might as well finish what he started.

“Hell, yes, I want you,” he muttered. Then he qualified his answer. “I just don't want to be married to you.”

“You can't have it both ways, Lucas.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

She wasn't certain. But she was beginning to feel better now that he acknowledged he was attracted to her.

Then she realized the veiled insult he'd given her. “Do I have a sign on my forehead asking to be insulted?” she snapped. “Honest to heaven, first William Merritt insults me by suggesting I become his mistress and now you insult me by saying you want to . . . you know, but you don't want to be married. Well?” she demanded.

He was going to answer her question, and while he was at it, he'd tell her he didn't like being lumped into any category with that son-of-a-bitch Merritt. She distracted him before he could defend himself. She touched him.

A lock of his hair had fallen forward to rest on his forehead. It was driving her to distraction. Without a thought as to what she was doing, she pushed his hand away from her shoulder and reached up to brush the hair back where it belonged.

He jerked back, acting very like she'd just struck him. She was immediately embarrassed by her bold-ness.

“Madam says men would rut with a rock if it were possible.” The outrageous statement gained his full attention. “And do you know why?” she asked.

He told himself not to ask. He knew he wasn't going to like the answer. Curiosity won out, however. “No, why?”

“Men don't think with their heads but with their . . .”

He stopped her from finishing her explanation. His hand covered her mouth. “For the love of God, Taylor. You will not talk like that.”

“I was just telling you what Madam explained to me about men,” Taylor whispered the second Lucas removed his hand. “It's true, isn't it? Lust is always uppermost in every man's mind.”

“Not all men are like that.”

“Are you?”

He gave her a scorching look. Then he braced his hands on either side of her face and slowly leaned forward. “No, I'm not. I want you to understand something, Taylor. You've been one hell of a distraction to me, but I won't ever settle down. No matter how enticing the thought might be.”

“Is that why you're sitting on my bed in the middle of the night lecturing me? You want me to know you won't settle down? I believe you've already made that perfectly clear, Lucas.”

“I also wanted you to know you're safe with me. Even though I'm attracted to you, I won't take advantage of our circumstances.”

“You'll be honorable.”

“Yes.”

She nodded. Lucas was getting all riled up. His voice had turned gritty and his expression was hard, angry.

She decided to try to lighten his mood. “I don't want you to worry about me,” she told him.

He shook his head. “I'm not worried.”

“I believe I can put your mind at ease about this attraction and our close quarters.”

“How?”

“Ask me if I want you to touch me.”

“Do you?”

“I'd rather be hanged.”

He was startled, but only for a second or two, and then he broke into a wide smile. She'd sounded sincere, yet the sparkle in her eyes told him she was jesting with him. He was beginning to like the way she turned his words back on him. She was being sassy and clever.

“Are you mocking me?”

She gave him that wide-eyed stare he found intoxicating and damned if she wasn't becoming impossible to resist.

“Yes.”

He laughed. His sour mood evaporated. He shook his head at her, then leaned down to place a chaste kiss on her forehead.

He kissed the bridge of her nose next. He was treating her like a child he was tucking into bed for the night. Taylor was having none of that. Her curiosity to find out what it would feel like to be properly kissed by Lucas suddenly overrode all caution. Before she could stop herself, she clasped the sides of his face with her hands and leaned up. Her mouth brushed against his. It was a featherlight touch, over within the space of a heartbeat, and in her estimation, it was really very nice. She liked the feel of his rough skin against her fingers. Lucas needed a shave, but the day's shadow of a beard made him look extremely rugged.

Taylor was content. Her curiosity had been satisfied. She let go of him and fell back against the pillows.

He followed her. He clasped her chin with one hand and forced her to look up at him. “What the hell did you do that for?”

She hurried to placate him. “It was just a kiss, Lucas.”

He shook his head. “No, Taylor. This is a kiss.”

His mouth came down hard on top of hers. He took absolute possession. She opened her mouth to protest. He took immediate advantage. His tongue swept inside to mate with hers. Taylor was stunned. She didn't know if she wanted to push him away or pull him closer, and what in God's name was his tongue doing inside her mouth? She'd never heard of anyone kissing that way. It was too intimate, too consuming. Heaven help her, she liked it. Her hands found their way around his neck. She clung to him while he gently ravished her. She couldn't remain passive for long, however. She started kissing him back. Her tongue rubbed against him, slowly at first, then more boldly. The kiss turned carnal. The heat burning between them was as arousing as the mingling of their scents.

He couldn't seem to get enough of her. He could feel her breasts pressing against his chest through the thin material of her gown. It drove him crazy. He pulled her even closer, cupped his hands behind her neck and angled her head to one side so his tongue could make deeper penetration. His mouth slanted over hers again and again. He shook with his desire. She tasted so good, so sweet, and the little whimpers she made in the back of her throat destroyed his control.

He never wanted to stop. The realization jarred him back to reality. Lucas ended the kiss abruptly. Getting her to let go of him took a little longer. He had to pull her hands away and gently push her back against the bed.

He was out of breath. She didn't think she was breathing at all. Lucas had overwhelmed her. She could still taste him on her lips, still feel the heat of his mouth as he devoured hers.

The kiss had gotten completely out of hand in a matter of seconds. His heart was still hammering thunderously inside his chest. Passion was slow to ebb. She wasn't helping matters. Her eyes were misty and her rosy lips were still swollen from his touch. She looked bemused and too damned touchable.

“You're dangerous, lady.”

His frustration made his voice thick with anger. Lucas stood up; grabbed his boots, shirt, and bedroll; and stormed out of the room. He wasn't about to take any chances. He was on edge now, aching with the need to plant himself solidly inside her, and since he couldn't do what he most wanted to do, he was determined to get the hell away from her.

He went looking for a bucket of cold water to pour over his head.

As soon as the door closed behind him, Taylor burst into tears. She started shaking from head to foot.

She was thoroughly ashamed of herself. Whatever had she been thinking of to taunt him for a kiss? She shook her head over her own sinful conduct. She'd been playing with fire, she told herself. She knew better now. She certainly couldn't continue on with this attraction. It would be too easy for her to lose sight of her goals.

Taylor no longer trusted her own judgment. She believed she was in love with William Merritt, and Lord, hadn't she been a complete fool then? Lucas might be different, but he was still a man and therefore not to be trusted in matters of love and commitment.

At least he had been honest with her from the beginning. He had told her he didn't want or need her. And how had she repaid his honesty? By throwing herself at him.

She was mortified. If she didn't know better, she'd think she was beginning to act like a wife. No wonder he went running for safety.

Taylor let out a loud groan, rolled over, and pulled the covers up. She vowed to apologize to Lucas first thing in the morning and promise him he wouldn't have to deal with her curiosity again. She fell asleep minutes later. She dreamed about him.

He had nightmares about her. He woke up in a cold sweat. Remnants of the godawful dream still lingered in his mind. Taylor was trapped inside a cave. He went in after her, but just as he was reaching for her, the walls and the ceiling came crashing down around the two of them. Air suddenly turned into dirt. They couldn't breathe, couldn't move. He was desperate to get her out before she died . . . like the others.

In his sleep, Lucas's mind blended two nightmares together. One was real, the other imaginary. The others who had magically appeared in the cave with Taylor were soldiers he had known and befriended, comrades, who had been led, just as he'd been led, into a deadly trap by their own superior officer. Major John Caulder sold out what was left of his unit to save his own hide. Cowardice wasn't his only motive, however. Greed was also involved. Like Judas, his treachery was richly rewarded and for an amount far greater than thirty pieces of silver. Caulder personally confiscated a large share of a shipment of gold he was supposed to be protecting.

Lucas was the only man who survived, though only because the renegades told Caulder they were certain all nine men were dead. The major was a worrier, however. It wasn't enough that a bullet had been shot into each man's back. He wanted to be certain no one was still breathing. He had his career to protect, to say nothing of his neck, and he didn't want anything to mar his brilliant, blemish-free military record.