Their breaths mingled, growing deeper, keeping a cadence that was rife with tension. The scent of him filled her, and when he brought his mouth to hers, she wanted his kiss. Behind closed eyelids, the sight of his naked strength sent flutters from her breast to her knees. She had been too afraid of him catching her staring to open her eyes and look her fill. But what she had seen fascinated her. Without realizing it, Erin began to explore that strength, sliding her hand over his shoulder, down his muscled arm, feeling the soft hair that covered his forearm and working her way up again. Her mouth swelled and parted, her body turned to his and she wanted more of the kiss that was so gently coaxing her into a dreamy feeling of being cherished.
She had been so wrong to fear him. There was nothing frightening about the skim of his tongue over her lips. He wasn’t ripping the protective cloth from her. He wasn’t moving at all.
Mace thought about racks. In particular, the one he was on. The cool slide of her hand over his burning skin made a wildness flow through his body. Blood heated and pooled. Hunger prowled like a winter-starved wolf, and he tested the limit of his control not to take her mouth the way he wanted. Man hungry. Hard. Deep. Fast. As the seconds passed and brought his body to a shocking hardness, hers softened.
A shudder ripped through him. She made a tiny sound and opened her mouth. Sweet velvet warmth beckoned him to taste. And the tiny sounds came again. He rocked his mouth back and forth over hers, drawing her closer, dipping his tongue into the honey sweet taste of her mouth. He held the kiss until their breathing was broken, her heart pounding as hard as his own. He stroked her fragile collarbone, mentally cursed the thick cloth as he shaped her shoulder and scored his blunt fingers down her spine.
Patience was rewarded. Erin followed the lift of his mouth, clasping her hand to his head so he couldn’t back away, and pressed against his chest.
Shivering with the strange pleasure streaking through her, Erin felt the flex and play of his muscles with her every touch. The fear of his strength and power was fast disappearing. Timidly, she touched his lips with the tip of her tongue. She felt his powerful body tremble just as hers did. Erin thought she was balanced on the edge of a cliff; fire was waiting, enticing her, if only she had the courage to reach out for it.
Her palm caressed the beard stubble on his cheek, her tongue growing bold, seeking the warmth beyond the edges of his teeth, shivering now, and feeling the shivering of his body in return.
Erin lost herself in the deepening kisses, in the feel of his hand kneading her back, sensations shimmering and heating until she couldn’t separate them. The retreat and penetration of his tongue was repeated in the caress of his hand up and down her back, her legs, easing and shifting her body closer, all with gentle pressure that brought her nothing but pleasure.
He tried to bite back a groan as she rocked softly against his aroused flesh, but it escaped him only to be drunk by Erin just as he drank her small cries. His hand knew her back intimately, knew the slim curve of her hip, but he wanted to touch her skin. Scattering kisses over her flushed cheeks, he worked his way to her ear, suckling the lobe and taking tiny bites of it. She was distracted enough to allow him to get most of the buttons open. He wasted no time, refusing to allow her to shy away from him. His lips slid down her throat, the fevered pulse in the hollow of her throat drawing his tongue, but his need was to taste more of the skin that was as smooth as cream and just as sweet.
Using his teeth, he drew aside one fold of the nightgown, his finger edging aside the other. He swore at the darkness that prevented him from seeing her.
The ache that was growing in her breasts made Erin twist against him. She wanted to tell him but the laving heat of his mouth only brought a sound of need from her.
A need that Mace increased. He took the tip of first one breast then the other with his lips, then carefully with the edge of his teeth. The arch of her back told him she wanted more, and he drew the nipple into his mouth, tugging it into a taut peak. Her whimper of protest when he released her sent a violent shudder through him. He welcomed the restless movements of her legs, wanting to cover her body with his and bury himself so deep inside her that she wouldn’t know where she began and he ended. But he knew it was too soon.
The dragging motion of his hand had bunched the thick cloth of her nightgown between them. He wanted it gone.
“Erin,” he whispered, his voice husky, “let me take this off you.”
He savored the slender curve of her hip, the faint tremor rippling over her skin, and took her mouth the way he had longed to do.
The hungry urgency of his kiss left her without the chance to breathe. But she wanted to please him, needed to do so, and she fought the fright that started to spread through her. He broke the kiss and pulled back before she could move, deftly turning and lifting her to strip off the nightgown.
Mace tossed it behind him, taking her mouth again, dragging her against him so that her softness fit every hard inch of his body. With a lean, strong hand, he stroked her from breast to thigh, love-biting a path down to the taut nipple nestled against his chest. He kneaded her hip, fingers spreading toward the soft curve of her belly, her moan bringing his leg to anchor her legs still.
He drew her nipple deep into his mouth, suckling hard, knowing she was aroused enough to handle a man’s hunger. Her fingers dug into his back and he brushed the soft hair concealing the feminine heat he was on fire to claim. But he didn’t linger, although he wanted to—he wanted to so badly that he was shaking. She was twisting beneath him and he stilled her with his hand spread across her belly.
“Talk to me, Erin. Tell me what you want.” The demand was filled with hunger and she stilled, her hand pressing against his chest, the other gripping his arm.
The violence of passionate need seething through him made Mace doubt his mind when he felt the slight flutter under his hand. But he didn’t mistake the sudden tension that ripped through Erin.
For a moment he couldn’t drag air into his lungs. He propped himself up on his elbow, cursing the dark but staring down to where his hand lay against the paleness of her body.
He shook his head as if that would clear it. But the slight movement came again, sending him a message only a damn fool would ignore.
His mind knew what it was he felt. His body refused to listen. It demanded the heat and softness and pleasure he had been promising it. But while his body had ruled the day, had commanded him the past hour, his mind exerted a pressure and demand that he couldn’t fight, could not ignore.
If he had any doubt, he remembered Sky. Memory eagerly supplied him with the first time. Memory dragged up the incredible joy they had shared to feel the first flutters of their child’s life. Cherished memories they repeated with Jake. But Sky had been his wife. He had been her first and only lover. She had carried his children.
Erin Dunmore became his wife today. Hours ago. She had married him knowing she carried another man’s child.
Chapter Six
“You lying bitch.”
The very softness of his tone tore through Erin.
Fear doubled the tension that froze her beneath his hand. At first she hadn’t understood what had happened, but his stillness and the repeated tiny fluttering against the hard press of his hand warned her that time had run out. She didn’t know she would feel life this soon. No one had told her.
The tightening clench of his fingers on her belly sent new fears splintering through her. She wanted to shove his hand away, afraid he would hurt her, afraid that if she moved he would explode.
Mace shook. His body hadn’t cooled; it was reacting to the rage that erupted with a series of explosions, each more violent than the last. For minutes he saw nothing but a red haze. Heat seeped out of him. A bone-chilling cold replaced it. He couldn’t think, couldn’t speak. A feeling of betrayal ran deep, down to the marrow. He tried to concentrate on breathing, so be could do something about the knots twisting his gut.
Suddenly he wanted the lamp lit. He ha
d to see the bitch who had trapped him, then slammed the cage door shut. And it was good that he could move away from her, for he no longer trusted himself to hold back the rage that was screaming inside him.
He needed to get to the lamp. He refused to talk, knowing it would tax what little control he had left.
Mace had never questioned his own strength. He had tested it more times than he could count. He had lived when Sky died and that had taken the greatest strength of all. But his legs felt weak as a newborn foal’s, his hands shook, and he staggered across the room until he felt the hard, solid edge of the dresser under his hands. With his head bowed, he rocked back and forth, fighting the need to strike out at something, anything, to release the treacherous fury ripping inside him
The tension in the room suffocated Erin. His silence threatened her more than if he had shouted. “Mace?” she whispered, afraid to say more, afraid to move.
There was no answer. She strained to hear him. All she could see was the faint outline of his body. Erin called out his name again. He didn’t answer. The tiny flutter came once more, but this time Erin gave in to her intense need and her hand covered her bare stomach. She forgot Mace, forgot everything in the joyous wonder of feeling her child move, stretching inside her, testing the bonds of its safe nest, telling her she was not alone. Would never be alone again.
Mace lit the lamp and turned slowly to look at her. For a moment, the enchantment of her expression arrested him. Her eyes were wide, her lips, swollen from his kisses, parted. He stopped himself from really seeing her. But his eyes targeted hers, and he knew it was the hate pouring out of him that held her gaze to his.
Erin wore nothing but goose bumps. No, she corrected herself, that wasn’t true. If hate could be worn, she was smothered in it.
Her throat constricted. She knew she had to talk to him, try to explain. She swallowed repeatedly, unable to look away from the scorn in his eyes.
He stood motionless, tall and hard as stone. The male power she first sensed in him took a dangerous turn. Mace Dalton was a stranger. And she had married him. Suddenly the risk she had taken to gain a home for her child and herself carried too high a price. He frightened her.
“Please listen,” she begged, “I tried to—”
“Shut up,” he grated from between clenched teeth that made his jaw ache. He could feel the muscle in his cheek twitch. But clenching and twitching didn’t compare to the murderous fury that held every muscle in his body within its grip. The battle wasn’t over inside him; he had a feeling it was just beginning.
As long as his contemptuous gaze remained focused on her face, Erin didn’t attempt to move. But when those dark, pitiless eyes narrowed and she felt as if he were touching her, shame for her nakedness flooded her. She couldn’t lie there, vulnerably exposed to him, not when he made her feel soiled. Even as the thought struck her she knew he was right. She was soiled. But even an animal tried to find shelter when a predator was closing in for the kill.
Stretching out one hand, she prayed to feel the edge of the quilt, but no one was listening to her prayer. Or if the Lord was, he decided to side with Mace Dalton and punish her for her deceit. To cover herself, Erin had to sit up. But his piercing gaze froze her. Her own eyes would not drop below the square jut of his dark stubbled jaw. He didn’t seem to realize that he stood before her as naked as Adam and twice as proud, his silence condemning her for betrayal.
But she wasn’t Eve and this was no garden of Eden. She accepted her guilt for deceiving him, but not for tempting him. But no word in her own defense escaped her lips.
“For Christ’s sake, cover yourself. You’ve played the whore and got what you wanted.”
His savage attack made her cringe. Feeling the bonds that had frozen her snap, Erin grabbed for the quilt. She didn’t hide beneath it the way she longed to do. She sat up, wrapping it tightly around her chilled body, focusing her gaze on the flocked pattern of interlocking leaves on the wallpaper. And she waited for the next blow.
He didn’t make her wait at all. “Why me?”
Erin didn’t even think about lying. “You were the only one who answered me,” she stated in a deadened voice. Bit by bit, she dragged up a fragile shell to protect herself. It had served her well in the past. She needed it to work now.
“The only one fool enough.” Mace didn’t think he could stand the sight of her. He wanted to bolt from the room, wanted that freedom so bad he could taste it. But she wasn’t going to get away from him without paying. And she bore his name. He couldn’t get rid of her by walking out. Stuck and tied. With her and another man’s child.
The silence grew and thickened.
Mace drew in a deep breath and felt it shudder from his body. Too good. That’s what he’d told Ketch. Knowing he’d been right didn’t ease his feelings. She had used him. The words in her letters slammed into him. Modest manner. Children welcome and wanted. Longed for family. Answer me promptly. Your answer…future plans.
But then he thought of the woman he met hours ago. She dressed like a lady; her manner had been modest. A little sass that intrigued him. A woman’s walk. Her mouth…Stop it!
But he couldn’t. His body recalled what his mind wanted to bury. She had been frightened. Either she was a damn good actress, which made her a classy whore, or…
“Were you raped?” The moment the words left his lips he hoped they were true. Whores protected themselves against pregnancy. If they didn’t, they were smart in knowing how to rid themselves of the one thing that prevented them from earning money. She was young. Pretty enough and tempting enough to raise his blood. If she had been raped, he could find a way to live with that. Mace knew his thinking was not that of most men, but he’d never forced a woman. If a female couldn’t come willingly to him, wanting to share God-given pleasure, there wasn’t any pleasure at all for him.
Rape would make a respectable woman flee from her home. A sop to his pride, perhaps, but better than knowing she was the whore he had called her. But she wasn’t answering him, and he was forced to look at her.
The colorful pattern of the quilt rested against her cheek, as white as new-fallen snow. The paleness of her skin made her hair appear blacker than night and the soft line of her mouth barely showed. There was no color; it was as if the blood had drained from her.
He had no room for pity. Not for her.
“Were you raped?” he repeated, fury shaking his voice.
“No.”
He didn’t hear her, not really—he saw the word formed by her lips. His fingers curled into fists and the need to strike out came back with a slamming force. But Mace had never used his brute strength against anything smaller than himself. He had never hit a woman. But even as he watched, he saw her shrink before his eyes, hiding as though she sensed his thoughts.
“Stop burrowing like a rabbit down a hole. I wouldn’t touch you. I don’t dare.” She didn’t look at him, didn’t move, but instinct said she had walled herself off from him. He was raw, hurting and seething for release. She wasn’t going to run or hide.
“If you weren’t raped, then tell me why you had to go looking for a sucker.”
“It doesn’t matter,” she answered, chilled by the cold venom coating his every word.
“It matters, all right. To me. Me, Mace Dalton, the man you took for a fool.”
“No. I never thought that. I never—”
“Lying isn’t going to help you now. I married you. It’s my name, my honor that you’re dragging in dirt.” He raked his hand through his hair, hanging on to a thread of rational control. “You’ll tell me anything and everything I want to know. You owe me that much.”
Owe. Erin closed her eyes and shivered. So the price began its accounting. She found that her protective shell, the tiny walled space where nothing could touch her, wasn’t going to save her now. In the past she could forget cold, hunger, scathing voices and hard hands. Mace Dalton was too powerful a force, too dangerous. What would he deem payment enough? Tears? Begging? Bu
t what right did a woman like her have to question his costs? She had taken a risk, more than she knew, and her future, her child’s future, all rested in his hands.
“Don’t—make—me—wait.”
The grated command forced her to open her eyes and once more stare at the wall. “I am an orphan, Mr. Dalton. I did not lie to you about that. I worked as a maid for a banker’s family. One of the clerks began courting me. I thought he cared for me. He spoke often of marriage as soon as he had saved enough money. I believed him. If you had ever in your life hungered as much as I have for a home and family of your own—”
“Stop trying to arouse my pity. I’ve none for the likes of you.”
Erin laced her fingers together so tightly she could feel them go numb. “I wasn’t trying to arouse your pity or anything else. I wanted a home and did not refuse when he told me he loved me. When I was certain there was to be a child, I told him. He—” Erin stopped, unable to admit to the laughter that had greeted her announcement.
But Mace wasn’t satisfied. He wanted to hear her tell him every bit of it. Especially how she conceived of the idea to hunt out a fool. He needed to hear her admit the deceit she played out on him. His pride demanded it.
And that demand was in his voice. “Finish it.”
“There isn’t much more. He refused to marry me or take care of me. I believe he told the housekeeper, who told my employer, and I was fired. If it wasn’t for Maddie taking—”
“Who’s Maddie?”
“The friend I told you about. The one I want to write to.” Erin silently added, To tell her I arrived safely. She couldn’t write to Maddie now.
“Why didn’t you stay with her? Why the hell did you have to—”
“Maddie earned enough to take care of herself. I had to work,” she continued, speaking softly, feeling the strength seep out of her. “Hard work, maid’s work. I feared losing my baby. There were few choices for me.”
Gifts of Love Page 7
