He held her against his bare chest and stroked the damp locks of her hair. As he soothed her, his own desire raged, but he didn't give in to it, not until her trembling finally stopped.
Cain's arm felt solid and ironically comforting around her. She heard his breathing slow, but she knew he wasn't asleep, no more than she was. Moonlight silvered the quiet room, and she felt a strange sense of calm. Something about the quiet, something about the hell they'd been through and the hell that no doubt lay ahead, made questions possible.
"Why do you hate me so much? Even before the cotton mill. From the day I came back to Risen Glory."
He was quiet for a moment. Then he answered her. "I never hated you."
"I was destined to hate whoever inherited Risen Glory," she said.
"It always comes back to Risen Glory, doesn't it? Do you love this plantation so much?"
"More than anything. Risen Glory is all I've ever had. Without it, I'm not anything."
He brushed away a lock of hair that had fallen over her cheek. "You're a beautiful woman, and you have courage."
"How can you say that after what I did?"
"I guess we all do what we have to."
"Like forcing this marriage on me?"
"Like that." He was still for a moment. "I'm not sorry, Kit. No more than you are."
Her tension returned. "Why didn't you go ahead and do what you were going to? I wouldn't have stopped you."
"Because I want you willing. Willing and as hungry for me as I am for you."
She was too conscious of their nudity, and she turned away from him. "That won't ever happen."
She expected him to get angry. Instead, he propped himself up on the pillows and gazed down at her without attempting to touch her. "You have a passionate nature. I've tasted it in your kisses. Don't be afraid of it."
"I don't want a passionate nature. It's wrong for a woman."
"Who told you that?"
"Everybody knows it. When Mrs. Templeton talked to us about Eve's Shame, said that-"
"Eve's what?"
"Eve's Shame. You know."
"Good God." He sat up in bed. "Kit, do you know exactly what happens between a man and a woman?"
"I've seen horses."
"Horses aren't humans." He put his hands on her shoulders and turned her toward him. "Look at me. Even though you hate me, we're married now, and there's no way I'm keeping my hands off you. But I want you to know what's happening between us. I don't want to scare you again."
Patiently, in language that was simple and direct, he told her about her own body and about his. And then he told her what happened when they were joined.
When he was done, he got out of bed and walked naked over to the table where he picked up his brandy glass. Then he turned and stood quietly, letting her satisfy the curiosity she wouldn't confess to.
Kit's eyes drank in his body, so clearly illuminated in the moon-drenched room. She saw beauty of a kind she'd never before witnessed, a beauty that was lean and muscular, that spoke of strength and hardness and things she didn't entirely understand. Her eyes went to the center of him He quickened under her gaze, and her apprehension returned.
He must have sensed her reaction, because he set down his glass and returned to her. This time his eyes held a challenge, and even though she was afraid, she'd never refused a challenge, not when it came from him.
The corner of his mouth twisted in what might have been a smile. Then he lowered his head and brushed his lips against hers. His touch was feather-light and soft, his mouth closed. There was no hard, probing tongue to remind her of the other, less friendly invasion that would soon take place.
Some of her tension dissolved. His lips found a path to her ear. He kissed the valley below it and then took the lobe with its tiny, silver stud gently between his teeth and teased it with his lips.
Her eyes drifted shut at the sensations he was arousing in her, then snapped open again when he clasped her wrists and stretched them above her head.
"Don't be afraid," he whispered, trailing his fingers down the soft underside of her arms. "It'll be good. I promise you." He paused at the crook of her elbow, brushing his thumb back and forth across the sensitive inner surface.
Everything that had passed between them should have made her wary, but as he traced delicate circles in the quivering hollows under her arms, she found the past evaporating and the exquisite sensations of the present taking her prisoner.
He slid the sheet to her waist and gazed at what was revealed. "Your breasts are beautiful," he muttered huskily.
A more gently reared woman would have lowered her arms, but Kit hadn't been gently reared, and modesty didn't occur to her. She saw his head dip, watched his lips part, felt his warm breath on her tender flesh.
She gave a moan as he circled the small nipple with his tongue. He transformed its softness into a tight, pulsing peak. She arched her body, and he opened his lips to encompass what she offered. Tenderly he suckled her.
She found herself lifting her arms to cradle the back of his head in her palms and pull him closer. As his mouth tortured one nipple, he attended to the other with the tough, callused pad of his index finger, teasing the tip and then catching it with his thumb and squeezing it ever so gently.
Not knowing men, she couldn't understand what a tight rein he was keeping on his own passion as he pleasured her. All she knew was that the pull of his mouth on her breast was firing nerve endings deep inside her.
He pushed the sheet away and lay next to her. Once again his mouth found hers, but this time he didn't have to coax it open. Her lips were already parted for his pleasure. Still he took his time, letting her become accustomed to the feel of him.
As he played at her lips, Kit's own hands grew restless. One of her thumbs settled over his hard, flat nipple.
With a groan he plowed his hands into her damp, tangled hair and drew her head up off the pillow. He plunged his tongue into her mouth and took possession of the slippery-hot interior.
The wildness that had always been part of her nature met his passion. She arched beneath him, splaying her fingers over his chest.
The last vestige of his self-control snapped. His hands were no longer content with her breasts. They moved down her body to her belly and then into the dark, silky triangle.
"Open for me, sweet," he whispered huskily into her mouth. "Let me in."
She did open. It would have been unthinkable not to. But the access she offered was still not enough for him. He stroked the inner surface of her thighs until she thought she would go mad. Finally her legs were splayed wide enough to satisfy his desire.
"Please," she gasped.
He touched her then, his wild rose, the center of her. He gently opened her so it wouldn't be so difficult, taking his time even though he was nearly crazed from needing her as he'd never before needed a woman.
He moved on top of her, kissing her breasts, kissing her sweet young mouth. And then, unable to hold back any longer, he poised himself at the very center of her and slowly entered.
She stiffened. He soothed her with his kisses and then, with one smooth thrust, he broke through her maiden's veil and put innocence behind her.
She plummeted back to reality at the small, sharp pain. Until now, there had been only pleasure. This felt like a betrayal. His caresses had lied to her. They'd promised something magical, but in the end it had been a devil's promise.
His hand cupped her chin and turned her face. She glared up at him, too conscious of what was buried deep and massive inside her.
"It's all right, sweet," he murmured. "The hurt is over."
This time she didn't believe him. "Maybe for you. Get off!"
He smiled a smile that was deep and smoky. His hands returned to her breasts, and she felt the melting begin again.
He began to move inside her, and she no longer wanted him to leave. She dug her fingers into the hard muscles of his shoulders and buried her mouth in his neck so she could taste him with
her tongue. His skin was sea salt and clean, and the stroking inside her was moving deeper, piercing womb and heart, melting her bones, her flesh, and even her soul.
She arched and strained and let him ride her through day and night, through space itself, clinging to him, to the sweet male of him, the hard shaft of him, driving deeper and deeper into her, carrying her higher, flinging her into the blinding brightness of the sun and moon where she hung for eternity and then shattered into a million slivers of light and darkness, answering his great cry with her own.
Part Four
Katharine Louise
15
was alone in the great rumpled bed when the noise in the hallway awakened her. She blinked against the sunlight, then bolted upright as she realized where she was. The sudden movement made her wince.
Sophronia rushed in without bothering to knock. "Kit! Honey, are you all right? Magnus wouldn't let me leave, or I'd have been here earlier."
Kit couldn't meet Sophronia's eyes. "I'm fine." She pushed back the covers. Her robe lay across the bottom of the bed. Cain must have put it there.
As she slipped into it, Sophronia stiffened. Kit saw her staring at the pale stain on the sheet. "You stayed with Magnus last night?" she said quickly, trying to divert her.
Sophronia pulled her gaze away from the bed and said unsteadily, "The major didn't give me much choice. Magnus slept on the porch."
"I see." Kit headed into her own room, just as if everything were normal. "A nice night for sleeping outdoors."
Sophronia followed her. Kit began to wash in the water Lucy had left for her. The silence hung heavy between them.
It was Sophronia who broke it. "Did he hurt you? You can tell me."
"I'm fine," Kit repeated, too quickly,
Sophronia sat down on the side of the bed that hadn't been slept in. "I never told you this. I didn't want to, but now…"
Kit turned away from the washstand. "What's wrong?"
"I-I know what it's like to be… to be hurt by a man." She twisted her hands in her lap.
"Oh, Sophronia…"
"I was fourteen the first time. He-he was a white man. I wanted to die afterward, I felt so dirty. And all that summer he'd find me, no matter how hard I tried to hide. 'Gal,' he'd call out. 'You. Come over here.' "
Kit's eyes filled with tears. She rushed to her friend's side and knelt beside her. "I'm so sorry. I didn't know."
"I didn't want you to."
She drew Sophronia's hand to her cheek. "Couldn't you have gone to my father and told him what was happening?"
Sophronia's nostrils flared, and she snatched her hand away. "He knew what was happening. White men always knew what was happening to the slave women they owned."
Kit was glad she hadn't eaten, because she would have vomited. She'd heard stories, but she'd always been able to convince herself that nothing like that could ever happen at Risen Glory.
"I'm not telling you this to make you cry." Sophronia took her thumb to one of Kit's tears.
Kit thought of the arguments about states' rights she'd made over the years to anyone who said the war had been fought over slavery. Now she understood why those arguments had been so important to her. They'd kept her from confronting a truth she hadn't been able to face. "It's so evil. So wicked."
Sophronia rose and moved away. "I'm doing my best to put it in the past. Right now, it's you I'm worried about."
Kit didn't want to talk about herself. She returned to the washstand, acting as if the world were just the same as it had been the day before. "You don't have to worry about me."
"I saw the expression on his face when he carried you into this house. It doesn't take much imagination to know you had a hard time of it. But listen to me, Kit. You can't keep all that ugliness stopped up inside you. You have to let it out before it changes you."
Kit tried to think of what she could say, especially after what Sophronia had revealed about herself. But how could she speak of something she didn't understand?
"No matter how terrible it was," Sophronia said, "you can talk to me about it, I understand, honey. You can tell me."
"No, you don't understand."
"I do. I know what it's like. I know how-"
"You don't." Kit turned. "This wasn't ugly like what happened to you," she said softly. "It wasn't ugly or awful or anything like that."
"You mean that he didn't…"
Kit swallowed and nodded. "He did."
Sophronia's face turned ashen. "I-I guess I shouldn't have…" She ran out of words. "I need to get back to the kitchen. Patsy wasn't feelin' good yesterday." Her skirts made a soft whooshing sound as she left the room.
Kit stared after her, feeling sick and guilty. Finally she forced herself to finish dressing. She reached into her wardrobe and pulled out the first thing her fingers touched, a candy-striped dimity. She'd lost her silver comb, so she tied her curls back with a pumpkin-colored ribbon she found in her drawer. It clashed with her dress, but she didn't notice.
just as she reached the foyer, the front door opened and Cain walked in with Miss Dolly. Kit was immediately swept into a peppermint-scented embrace.
"Oh, my sweet, sweet precious! This is the happiest day of my life, 'deed it is. To think that you and the major cherish tender feelin's for each other, and I didn't suspect a thing."
This was the first time she'd heard Miss Dolly voluntarily refer to Baron as "the major." She studied her more closely, which gave her an excuse to avoid looking at Cain.
"I've already chastised the major for keeping me in the dark, and I should chastise you, too, but I'm too consumed by happiness." The older woman clasped her hands to her ruffled bodice. "Just look at her, Major, in her pretty frock with a ribbon in her hair. Although you might want to find another color, Katharine Louise. That little pink satin you have, if it's not too badly crushed. Now I must go talk to Patsy about a cake." With a quick peck at Kit's cheek, she headed for the kitchen. When the clatter of her tiny heels on the wooden floor had receded, Kit was finally forced to look at her husband.
She might have been staring at a stranger. His face was empty of expression, his eyes distant. The passion they'd shared last night might have been something she'd imagined.
She searched for some trace of tenderness, some acknowledgment of the importance of what had passed between them. When she didn't find it, a chill went through her. She should have known this was how it would be with him. She'd been foolish to expect anything else. Still, she felt betrayed.
"Why is Miss Dolly calling you 'Major'?" She asked this question instead of the others she couldn't give voice to. "What did you say to her?"
He tossed his hat onto the hallway table. "I told her we were married. Then I pointed out that if she went on believing I was General Lee, she'd have to reconcile herself to the fact that you were living with a bigamist, since the general has been married for years."
"How did she react?"
"She accepted it, especially after I reminded her that my own military record was nothing to be ashamed of."
"Your military record? How could you frighten her like that?" Finally she had a target on which to pin at least a small portion of her pain. "If you bullied her-"
"She wasn't frightened. She was quite pleased to hear how valiantly I was serving under General Beauregard."
"Beauregard fought for the Confederacy."
"Compromise, Kit. Maybe someday you'll learn the value of it." He headed for the stairs and then stopped. "I'm leaving for Charleston in an hour. Magnus will be here if you need anything."
"Charleston? You're leaving today?"
His eyes mocked her. "Were you expecting a honeymoon?"
"No, of course not. But don't you think it's going to look a little strange if you leave so soon after our-our wedding?"
"Since when have you cared what people think?"
"I don't. I was just thinking about Miss Dolly and her cake." Her anger ignited. "Go to Charleston. Go to hell for all I care."
She pushed past him and stalked out the front door. She half expected him to come after her, half hoped he would. She wanted a fight, a raging argument on which to blame her unhappiness. But the door remained shut.
She went to the live oak behind the house and leaned against one of the great drooping branches. How was she to survive being his wife?
For the next few days, she stayed away from the house as much as she could. At first light, she donned her britches and rode Temptation from one corner of the plantation to the next, everywhere but the spinning mill. She talked to the women about their gardens, the men about the cotton crop, and walked between the long rows of plants until the afternoon sun drove her into the refuge of the woods or to the banks of the pond.
But the pond was no longer a sanctuary. He'd spoiled that, too. As she sat beneath the willows, she thought about how he'd managed to take everything from her: home, money, and finally her body. Except she'd given that freely.
Sometimes the memory filled her with rage. Other times she'd feel edgy and restless. When that happened, she'd jump on Temptation and ride him until she was exhausted.
One day slid into another. Kit had never been a coward, but she couldn't find the courage to face her callers, so she left them to Miss Dolly. Although she didn't think the Cogdells would ever reveal the details of that awful wedding, the rest was bad enough. She'd married the enemy in a hurry-up affair that would leave them all counting on their fingers for months to come. Just as embarrassing was the fact that her husband had abandoned her the morning after their marriage, and she had no idea when he'd return.
Only once did she agree to receive company, and that was early Saturday afternoon, when Lucy announced that Mr. Parsell had come to call. Brandon knew how she felt about Cain, so he must realize that she'd been forced into the marriage. Maybe he'd thought of a way to help her.
She quickly changed from her britches into the dress she'd worn the day before and hurried downstairs. He rose from the settee to greet her.
"Mrs. Cain." He bowed formally. "I came to extend my felicitations as well as the best wishes of my mother and my sisters. I'm certain that you and Major Cain will be very happy."
Just Imagine aka Risen Glory Page 21
