Shackles of Honor (38 page)

Cassidy’s mouth gaped open slightly in awe. “I despise my middle given name,” she whispered to him. “How did you know of it? I’ve sworn everyone close to me to secrecy as to its very existence.”

“Bliss? Why?” His question was so forthright that Cassidy struggled for the answer. Somehow she’d forgotten it for a moment.

“Because…because it’s quite humiliating. Where my Father conjured that name I’ll never know. It sounds so…I don’t know…so…”

“Arrogant?” he suggested. “As if it were known when you were born that you would possess the sorcery to weave a tapestry of it, meaning bliss, about any man that met you?”

“No! Well, yes. I don’t know. It’s just
—
”

“Arrogant,” he finished again. She was silent, having been defeated verbally. “So, then,
p
udding is more acceptable to you than your name in its entirety? Those are your choices.”

Not wanting to accept her defeat, she proceeded, “I mean…where on earth did my father come up with that name? Bliss? The connotations are too…too…”

“Intimate,” he again finished.

“Yes,” she admitted, swallowing another mere tonnage of her pride.

“Intimate it is. More than you know.” His expression was very solemn, almost angry once again. Inhaling deeply, however, he calmed himself quickly. “Then
pudding it will be, i
f you prefer less intimacy between us.”

“I did not say that,” she argued in a whisper, smiling at an older woman who raised her eyebrows in Cassidy’s direction.

“Then you prefer more intimacy between us.”

“No!” she interrupted, feeling a horrid blush flaming on her cheeks. “I did not mean that either.” She looked up to see the amused expression blatant on his face once again. “I’m beginning to think you enjoy tormenting me far more than is natural.”

“Who is to say what is natural?” he asked her. “And…it offends me that when we do discuss intimacy, words like ‘torment’ and ‘torture’ always flow profusely from your lips.”

“No different than the word ‘
chore
,
’ which simply falls like rain from yours,” she mumbled.

“Ah, but you are mistaken, Miss Cassidy Bliss,” he said, lowering his voice. “For
chore
is your word of
choice, n
ot mine. You’re the one who refers to our duty to posterity as
chore
. Not I. For I’m a man…as you’ve only reminded me repeatedly this evening. And you know how unscrupulous men are.”

“Deny it then,” she demanded in a whisper suddenly. Oh, how she wished to hear him deny it
—w
ished to hear him confess to her that it would be his pure desire to have her in his arms
—
but her verbal demand was that of banter, challenge as it sounded. “Deny to me that I’m the last woman on this earth that you would willingly
—
”

“Calm yourself, Cassidy Bliss. I will not deny it…here, for this is not the appropriate place to prove denial to you. Your bedchamber at midnight. That, my Bliss, is where I’ll prove it to you once and for all so that this childish badinage over the matter can cease.”

The music ended meaningfully and promptly at that very moment
,
and Mason bowed to Cassidy, escorting her from the dance floor and leaving her quickly with her mouth fairly gaping open in astonishment.



The night wore on and endlessly on
,
d
ance after stranger’s dance, until nearly midnight
,
when Cassidy had hardly the energy to even speak to anyone
. A
nd when Lady Carlisle and her own mother inquired how she enjoyed the evening
,
she simply said, “I must to my bed. I cannot endure another moment of this day.”

Cassidy closed the door softly behind her as she entered her bedchamber. She could remember nothing of the evening following Mason’s threat to be in her bedchamber at midnight. Every memory, every face that spoke to her, congratulated her, was a blur. What was his intent? How did he intend to prove to her that he did not view her as his necessary repulsion? Taking a deep breath, she said aloud, “He’s only tormenting me
,
and I’ll not let him have the satisfaction of knowing he has upset me. For he has not,” she mumbled to herself, stepping from her evening slippers.

But something in her wanted only to scream. To run! To explode somehow! For now, looking back, she faced what she had tried to ignore, the fact that not only had she humiliated herself by having discussed the subject with Mason, but she had provoked him to threaten her so. However, in the very next moment a warm, intoxicating sensation at her neck and shoulder sent her body shivering as she remembered his kisses there. At the thought of his lips to her skin, she broke into goose bumps spawned of pure bliss. His hands had been so warm and strong as they’d held her shoulders. The scent of his hair was overwhelming to her senses as it brushed her face when he had bent to kiss her neck. One more moment and she’d have been in his arms. She knew it. His chivalry had shown through
,
and he would not let the speculating gossip about them continue. Though he had confessed the truth of it to Gabrielle, others had seen all
,
and Gabrielle herself seemed unconvinced that it was farce. He had set a scene for all to discuss. He must at least possess some degree of compassion for Cassidy, for there was no other reason to even heed her injured pride otherwise.

Cassidy sighed heavily. Her mind was tired
—t
oo tired to think, to ponder so fiercely on it anymore
—
and she stripped off her stockings, leaving them on the floor at the foot of her bed next to her slippers. She grew weary with the effort of unbuttoning her own dress, its buttons being in back, and wished for a brief moment that she hadn’t excused Katie from waiting up for her. Sitting down at her vanity, she studied herself in the mirror as she pulled the pins from her hair. The very shoulders that had been the object of his attentions only hours before were her own. They certainly looked no different, but they did indeed feel different, for the sensations of his kisses there would not vanish. Brushing a limp ringlet from her cheek, she shook her head, dissatisfied with her own reflection.

She was relieved when she heard her door open
,
and turning toward it, she began, “Oh, dear Katie! How glad I am that you didn’t…” Instantly her words silenced themselves as the clock on her mantel began its ominous midnight striking
,
and she saw Mason standing just inside her door. “Oh,” was all she could mutter as he stood glaring at her where she sat. “If you’ll excuse me, Mr. Carlisle. The hour is very late.”

“Very,” he mumbled, closing the door behind him.

Cassidy’s heart pounded madly. Fear and delight battled brutally within her. How handsome he was. All over again the feel of his arms about her, his kisses heated on her neck, caused her to begin to tremble slightly. She studied his eyes and admitted to herself inwardly that the resistance to admit to herself her growing feelings for him was vanishing.

He strode determinedly toward her, untying his cravat slowly as his eyes continued to study her. She wished she hadn’t unfastened so many buttons of her gown, for the fabric of her sleeves now slipped completely from her shoulders and she reflexively took hold of the gown’s bodice at its front, securing it and ensuring her own modesty. Mason paused in his advance to discard the cravat as well as his evening coat to the foot of her bed. His approach was intent and purely predatory, the look in his eyes that of some great lion stalking its prey. He unnerved Cassidy completely then as he unfastened several of his shirt buttons, and she quickly turned from him, dashing to the far side of her bed.

“How dare you!” she rebuked. “Leave this room at once.” But the tremble in her voice revealed her uncertainty
,
and he grinned, seemingly amused.

“You’re frightened of me, then?” he asked. His voice was very deep and so low that had his voice not been so masculinely sonorous she would not have heard him.

“No.” She stated the lie in an attempt at bravery.

“You’re lying to me,
p
udding,” he chuckled.

“I’m not a pudding, sir. I’m
—
”

“Yes. You are,” he interrupted as he further approached. His shirt was fully unbuttoned now and hung freely open. Cassidy could not help but glance once at the broad, muscular expanse of his exposed torso before quickly looking away, donning an expression of disapproval. She thought of her mother’s revelation to her only the day before of how unsettling an improperly clothed man had been to her young eyes.

“A pudding. Soft, smooth, sweetly concocted
,
and…” he continued
,
and she looked back to him, her eyes widened with astonishment. She could not believe what her eyes were taking in as he bit his lower lip slightly before finishing, “And slaveringly delicious.”

Cassidy heard the small squeak of astonishment that escaped her throat as her mouth gaped open in astonishment for a moment. She quickly tried to regain her composure and accused, “And you name yourself a gentleman? I cannot believe this behavior! It’s purely barbarism.” Then her fear retreated
,
and a deep and throbbing sadness replaced it, for she understood. “Furthermore,” she continued, dropping her own voice, “I’m not the ignoramus you take me for. I know perfectly well that you’ve no indecent intent toward me.” She was again very tired as she stood before him.

The triumphant grin left his face
,
and he nodded in agreement. “You’re exactly right,
p
udding. I’ve no indecent intent where you’re concerned.”

Hearing the words from his lips depressed her somehow. She felt the hot threat of tears searing her eyes
,
and she struggled to restrain their release. She turned away from him—afraid that were she to continue to view his perfect beauty, the tears might defeat her will against them.

“Then leave me, please. I’m overly tired,” she whispered.

Her body stiffened instantly, however, for she felt the soft caress of his fingertips along the bareness of her shoulders.
No!
she screamed in her mind. She could not surrender to him in any way
—e
ven as much as to forgive him for teasing her, mocking her. Whirling around, she hit his arm solidly with her hand and pushed at his chest once. “How dare you! How dare you touch me so…so…”

“Intimately?” he finished, glaring down at her.

“You remove yourself from this room at once or I’ll…I’ll…”

“You’ll what,
p
udding? I’m master in this house. Do you think anyone would champion you against me?” His tone was so superior that it vexed her harshly.

“I’ll tell your mother,” she threatened at last.

“No. You never would, for you’re nearly as fond of her as I. Are you not?”

Cassidy looked away for a moment, further irritated at his victory over her yet again.
“My father…Ellis…” she began.

“Your father is in my ranks, miss. And your brother is bound to honor his father’s decision.” He paused, seeming to gloat in her defeat. “Now, listen closely to my words,
p
udding,” he continued. “I come here not to molest you in any manner. Simply to prove my denial of your accusation earlier this evening.” He paused
,
and Cassidy fidgeted nervously with her bodice as his eyes caressed the bareness of her shoulders for a moment. “I want you to be assured that it will be no ‘chore’ for me to take you to my bed when the time comes.”