This last was said in a muted roar that caused his brothers' eyes to widen. Caitlyn felt as though her eyes must be the size of saucers themselves. Had Connor really meant to claim her for his own? Her heart began a slow hammering.
"You don't mean it, Conn. Do you?" Astonishment, confusion, and resentment mixed in Cormac's face as he gaped at his oldest brother. Soaked to the skin, treading water, his hair slicked back around his face and dripping water, he looked very young all of a sudden.
"As God is my witness, I do." Connor sounded grim. His grip on her arm tightened enough to hurt. She could not forbear a wince, which he must have seen because his hand immediately loosened, though he did not seem to be looking at her. His scowling attention was focused on his brothers in the water.
"She's not a bloody chattel," Rory objected reasonably. "You can't just claim her, Conn. We've a right to have a chance at her too."
"Rory's right, Conn. She should be allowed to make up her own mind, in her own time. You're not some feudal lord, you know, even if you are an earl."
"I-I have made up my mind." Caitlyn was astonished that her voice didn't shake. All three brothers looked at her rather as if a mounted moose's head had spoken, but she went on doggedly. "I choose Connor. And 'tis my hope that the rest of you will honor that choice."
There was a thick silence as Rory and Cormac stared at her. Caitlyn did not dare look over her shoulder at Connor, who stood silently behind her, his hand heavy on her arm.
"As you wish, of course," Rory said stiffly after a moment, and swam the two strokes needed to bring him to the side of the pool. Cormac was right behind him. They hauled themselves dripping from the pool. Without another word, trailing water as they went, they climbed up the stairs and walked out of the spring house. Caitlyn was left with Connor. The moment they were alone his hand fell from her arm. Caitlyn was half frightened to do it, but she did it anyway: she turned to face him.
He was frowning at her, not scowling but frowning. He had shrugged into his shirt after she left the bam, but it was unbuttoned and hung free of his breeches. His chest was bare, and as Caitlyn looked at the sweat-filmed muscles roughened with dark hair she felt her heartbeat quicken.
"So you were kissing Cormac, were you?" he asked, his eyes narrowing at her.
"I…" Caitlyn began, meaning to defend herself. Then inspiration took her. "I just wondered how it would feel," she finished with demure provocation.
His frown deepened. That tiny muscle began to twitch again beside his mouth. Looking at him, Caitlyn felt her own mouth go dry. She swayed toward him, the movement almost involuntary. He reached out and caught her upper arms, pulling her closer but still holding her away from him.
"So you just wanted to know how it would feel," he repeated with soft bite. Then his eyes narrowed further and focused with sudden blazing intensity on her mouth. "Caitlyn, lassie, if 'tis kissing you want to try, then come kiss me."
XXII
He pulled her slowly closer until her breasts just brushed the mat of hairs on his bare chest. His eyes never left her face, and her eyes drowned in his. Her heart was pounding so hard that she could scarcely hear anything over it. When his hands released her arms to slide around her small waist, she wet her lips. He took a quick, deep breath.
"Put your arms around my neck." His voice was faintly hoarse. Tiny flames lit the backs of his eyes. Caitlyn felt her knees go weak as she obediently lifted her arms. At the first tentative touch of her hands on his neck he stiffened. Caitlyn felt the warm dampness of his skin under her fingertips and trembled. Her arms slid slowly around his neck, her fingers touching the curly tail of hair at his nape. He bent his head. She closed her eyes.
The first touch of his mouth on hers made her dizzy. His lips pressed against hers gently, warm and dry, nuzzling her mouth. She felt a quickening deep inside her, a longing so intense that she thought she might faint with it. Her chest heaved as she drew a long shuddering breath, and then his tongue was inside her mouth.
She moaned. Never in all her life had she imagined that kissing a man would be like this. She felt lightheaded, intoxicated, enthralled as his tongue softly, gently, explored her mouth. When he removed it and lifted his head, she dug her nails into the back of his neck in protest even as she opened her eyes.
"Gently, lass." He was breathing unevenly too, she saw. Her arms were still around his neck, and his arms enwrapped her waist. If it hadn't been for this support, she didn't think she would have been able to stand. Her knees had melted to butter, and her insides were all aquiver. The look in her eyes was both languorous and urgent as she lifted them to his.
" 'TWas marvelous. Do it again." It was a soft murmur.
"Sweet Jesus." His eyes blazed down at her for an instant before he bent his head to hers and took her mouth with a ferocity that lit brushfires of need inside her. He pulled her up on tiptoe, bending her backward so that her head was pillowed on his shoulder as his tongue plundered her mouth. Caitlyn locked her arms around his neck and kissed him back, relying on blind instinct to teach her all she needed to know. Boldly her tongue stroked his, slid inside his mouth. A fine tremor shook the arms that strained her to him. His hands slid down to cup her bottom through the layers of skirt and petticoat and shift, pulling her up against him as he pressed boldly into her. She felt the rock hardness of him grinding against her belly, felt the kneading of his fingers on her bottom as they drew her closer yet, and moaned his name into his mouth. He groaned in answer and shifted his hold on her, so that she thought he would lower her to the stone floor beneath. Then he muttered a vile word into her mouth, pulled her upright again, and tore his mouth from hers, still holding her close while his heart pounded against her breasts and his face rested against the top of her head.
"Connor!" This time his name was a soft protest. She felt him draw a deep breath. Then his arms slid from around her waist and he took a step back from her, his hands closing over her forearms where they were linked behind his neck.
"You are a menace," he said through his teeth, spacing the words out. When she still swayed toward him with invitation, he pulled her arms from around his neck and held her away from him by his grip on them. "Stop it! Do you want to end up as my mistress, taken right here on the bloody floor?"
Caitlyn smiled at him. Her insides were a-clamor, her head awhirl. There was only room for one thing in her thoughts: Connor himself. He looked so incredibly handsome as he stood there scowling at her, his eyes narrowed beneath frowning brows and his mouth, his marvelous mouth that could do the most incredible things to her, fierce. His black hair was escaping untidily from its ribbon, and she supposed that she had caused that when she had stroked its silken waves. His broad shoulders were set rigidly as though to hold her off, but his chest heaved beneath his open shirt as if he were having trouble drawing breath. Caitlyn stared at that hard-muscled, sweat-filmed chest for a long moment before she lifted her eyes to his again.
"If you like," she said simply and lowered her eyes to his chest once more. That broad, hair-roughened expanse fascinated her. Of its own volition her hand came up to rest gendy over his heart, and she had the answer to the question that had troubled her: the mat of fine hair was as soft as a kitten's fur.
"Holy Mother of God!" Connor yelped, jumping back as if stung by her gende touch. Then, before Caitlyn knew what was happening, he was tottering on the edge of the pool. Instinctively she reached out a hand to him, but it was too late; he fell in.
She was staring wide-eyed at the spreading ripples on the dark water when he surfaced what seemed like eons later. Treading water, he scowled up at her, brushing the strands of sopping-wet black hair from his eyes. Then the sheer ridiculousness of it coaxed a reluctant grin from him.
"I should have listened to Mickeen from the beginning," he told her, swimming for the edge of the pool and hoisting himself up. "You've been nothing but trouble to me from start to finish, young Caitlyn, and it seems the more I try to get out the deeper I get into the coil. And you ar
e no help at all."
"What are you talking about?" She stared at him, bewildered, as he stood up and looked ruefully down at him- self. He was soaked to the skin, his boots doubtless ruined, the ribbon securing his queue left behind to float on the surface of the spring. Water poured off him like rain. He looked up at her, his expression wry.
"I never meant to lay a finger on you, lass, and 'tis ashamed of myself I am for doing so. With a little cooperation from you, I'll undertake to make certain that it does not happen again."
"But-but-" Caitlyn sputtered at him, unable to believe her ears. "You said-you told Cormac and Rory that you-that I was your property. I thought-I thought…" What she had thought trailed off into nothingness as she found herself unable to put it into words. Connor looked at her steadily.
"What I said was merely my own clumsy way of trying to keep my brothers from killing each other over you. I never meant to claim you truly. Only to keep you safe."
"Oh!" Her cheeks burned with mortification. Her hands flew to them and she stared at him in dawning horror. Remembering every little thing she had said and done, she wanted to die. And with shame came flaring, healing anger.
"Caitlyn…" He said her name in a gentle tone, reaching for her. She glared at him, her hands dropping away from her cheeks to clench at her sides.
"You are a vile beast, Connor d'Arcy!" she hissed, and as he took a step toward her she shoved him so hard that he tumbled backward into the spring. Even as the water from his fall splashed over her, she was turning away with a swirl of skirts and rushing up the stairs. If she was lucky, she thought, fuming, maybe he'd drown in the bloody pool!
XXIII
By the following morning, having spent the night giving considerable uncomfortable thought to the previous day's happenings, Caitlyn had decided that neither suicide nor murder was the answer to her problem. Vile beast though Connor certainly was, she did not really want to see him dead and doubted her ability to bring such a thing about in any case. And she certainly had no intention of killing herself and thus ridding him of his problem. She had also reached a conclusion. No matter how much he tried to convince her and himself otherwise, Connor found her desirable. There had been no pretense in that soul-shattering kiss.
At that moment she would have let him do anything he wanted to her and reveled in the doing. That was mortifying to admit, but true. She had been butter in his hands, and she suspected that if the situation were repeated again, even with the humiliating knowledge of his motives that she now possessed, she would respond in exactly the same way.
Without knowing it, she had longed for his kiss for weeks. The reality, when it came, had been more dazzling than any daydream. And the simple truth of the matter was, she wanted him to do it again.
She wanted Connor d'Arcy. The knowledge came to her with the blinding light of truth. She wanted him to be hers, her man. For months feelings of possessiveness toward him had been growing inside her undetected. Now they sprang forth in full bloom. He was hers, like it or not. He just had not yet acknowledged his downfall. The problem was, how was she to go about making him do so?
Still pondering the matter, she went downstairs to breakfast only to discover that Connor had gone with Mickeen to Dublin. He did not return for three full days.
During that time, Caitlyn kept her.distance from the younger d'Arcys. Cormac and Rory appeared to have taken Connor's threat to heart, for they barely spoke to her. Liam was caught up in doing the farm's books. She was not sure he was even aware of the prohibition, but he was so abstracted most of the time that she doubted that he saw her or anyone else.
She did her chores and rode Finnbarr, and if she was unhappy none knew it.
On the afternoon of the third day, Caitlyn saddled Finnbarr and went for a ride. Since the younger d'Arcys were still sulking and Mickeen had gone with Connor, there was no one to tell her not to ride alone. In fact, she had been doing so every day and almost enjoyed the freedom. Although if she were to be honest, she missed the free and easy exchanges with Cormac and Rory, and even Liam's wry wit. And she missed Connor, though she was growing angrier at him by the day.
She took her familiar route down toward the Boyne. The day was brisk, and Finnbarr was frisky. Pulling the kerchief from her head, she let her hair fly free behind her and gave Finnbarr his head. He soared over the turf toward the misty hills that rose to the north.
After a while she pulled him in and turned him toward home. The ride had been exhilarating, but she did not want to tire Finnbarr and held him to a walk. When they came to a stream, she stopped.
He drank thirstily. Caitlyn patted him and settled herself comfortably in the saddle, whiling away the minutes with a daydream: Connor down on his knees to her, slathering kisses over her lily-white hands…
"Well met, Miss O'Malley!" The hail almost made her tumble off Finnbarr's back. Startled, she straightened and turned her head to find Sir Edward Dunne riding toward her on a big roan.
"Good day, Sir Edward." Caitlyn was polite even as she groped for Finnbarr's reins. Of course they had somehow managed to unwrap themselves from the pommel and slide down the animal's neck. She leaned forward as far as she could, but she couldn't quite reach them
"Allow me." Seeing her predicament, Sir Edward dismounted and trudged through the shallow stream, leaving his horse behind with its reins trailing, to retrieve her reins for her. Caitlyn watched his approach a trifle uneasily. After all that Connor and the others had told her about this man, she did not like being alone with him so far from home. But then, the main road was nearby, and in any case surely he was not as black as the d'Arcys had painted him. And even if he was, the mantle of Connor's protection should be an adequate safeguard from any unwelcome advances.
"If you'll permit me to say so, you're growing lovelier by the day." Sir Edward made no move to hand her reins up to her immediately. Instead he stood slapping them idly against his palm as he gazed at her, seemingly heedless of his booted feet in the stream.
"Th-thank you." She was becoming increasingly nervous and held out her hand for her reins. He shook his head and kept them out of reach, smiling teasingly up at her.
"Surely you can stay and chat a while? It is rare that I see you without one of your-ah-cousins in tow."
"I really have to get back. Conn-Connor will be looking for me." Again she reached for her reins. She did not like the look in Sir Edward's eyes, or the too- familiar tone of his voice. She hoped to instill in him the worry that Connor might appear in search of her at any moment.
"Really?" Sir Edward affected surprise. His smile widened. "Strange, I just returned from Dublin this morning, where I had the privilege of attending a ball at Dublin Castle. While I was there I encountered d'Arcy, who had just concluded a waltz with Meredith Congreve. He informed me that he meant to spend the rest of the week in town, and from the way the divine Meredith was clinging to him, I have little doubt that he meant it."
"I meant Cormac, of course." As unsettling as the information he had just given her was, she had no time to do more than register it with an unpleasant jolt and file it away for future reference. All her attention had to focus for the present on getting away from Sir Edward. She was growing more frightened of him by the moment.
"Ah, but young Cormac is a very different kettle of fish. If d'Arcy has passed you on to his baby brother already, then I see I need have no more scruples. I'd like to make you an offer, my dear."
"An offer?" Caitlyn looked down at him rather wildly. Short of jumping from Finnbarr's back and running for it, she could conceive of no means of escape. And to put herself within Sir Edward's easy reach would be foolhardy.
"I'm a far richer man than Connor d'Arcy, my dear, to say nothing of the rest of the pack. And you'll find that I'm extremely generous when I'm pleased. A young lady such as yourself should have the finest clothes, jewelry, a chance to shine in Society. I could give you all that, and more."
"I haven't the faintest notion what you're talking about," Caitlyn
said, genuinely bewildered. Sir Edward's mouth tightened impatiently, and he shaded his eyes with his free hand as he looked up at her. Caitlyn noticed that the features she had thought not unattractive before now looked pinched and cruel.
"Come, come, Caitlyn. I may call you Caitlyn, may I not? Surely you did not think that I or anyone else would swallow that nonsense about your being the d'Arcys' cousin! It's patendy obvious that you were mistress to Connor at least, and probably passed down the line. I can certainly offer you better than that. Your own house in Dublin, if you wish."
"You are mistaken, sir," Caitlyn said in a suffocated voice, holding out her hand imperiously. "Now if you will please hand me my reins…"
"Oh, ho, holding out for more, are you? Well, let's see hew you price yourself when the deed's done, my girl!" With that he reached up to catch her around the waist, pulling her off Finnbarr's back with a jerk. Caitlyn screamed once, shrill as a whistle in case anyone should be nearby to hear. Then, as Sir Edward twisted her into the circle of his arms and bent his head toward her, she kicked him as hard as she could in the shin.
"Oww! A little she-devil, are you? No wonder d'Arcy's kept you around so long." Although his grip had slackened from her kick, he was pulling her close again. Caitlyn had just enough time to wrest her arm out from between them. As he bent his head toward her she drew back her fist and punched him in the face. Her fist made jarring contact with his left eye. He howled, staggering back without releasing his grip on her. Caitlyn tried to punch him again, but he warded off her blows.
Dark of the Moon Page 18
