He had been surprised that she did not flee at once. That she still wanted him in her bed, although she recognized that he had been right. It had been brave of her to acknowledge her own error in judgement.
He wondered if allowing her to stay was an error on his part. The thought that he would have the opportunity to show her that making love did not have to be a clumsy, embarrassing affair was little enough consolation.
He knew he shouldn’t let himself enjoy the feeling of being a husband—it wouldn’t last long. But he did anyway. And he looked forward to tonight, spending the night in his own bed, with his wife, for the first time since he had married her.
It would be a memory to warm him in the future. At least, he hoped it would be enough, because it would be all that he could have.
This time she wore only a shift when he came into the room. He reached to loosen his collar and paused. “Are you certain of this, Kate. There is no need to prove your courage—I already know it well.”
She smiled. “I want this, Sean.” She smiled again, a little wryly. “And this time I know what it is I want and I won’t expect more than you can give me.”
He quickly shed his own clothing and put out the lamp, so that there would be darkness between them tonight. Later, if she stayed, there would be time for light, for him to enjoy the sight of her. She’d already seen him in all his glory—though she had seemed decidedly unimpressed he remembered.
He climbed into the bed and settled himself beside her as if he weren’t an eager lover, but a man well used to a woman in his bed. He may have joked about being a stud goat, but he did not want to behave has if he were one. Tonight, for her sake, he would concentrate on showing her the pleasure of warm skin touching warm skin.
“So, my lady.” He turned toward her and she jolted away from him when his leg brushed hers. “Will you be in charge tonight? Or will you leave it to me?”
“Since I had charge of last night, it is only fair that you lead tonight.”
“Fair enough.” She was trembling when he moved to pull her into his lap. He whispered in her ear as he gathered the hem of her shift in his fists. “Katie, I said nothing at all.” She did not make a sound of protest as he lifted the shift up and over her head, but when the cold night air hit her as he tossed the shift to the end of the bed, she gave a powerful shiver.
He took her into his arms and rubbed his hands along her back, her arms, her shoulders, trying to warm her, trying to learn the feel of her, so that he could conjure it up in his lonely bed once she was gone.
She was, as he had hoped, less shy in the dark. Though she moved tentatively at first, her hands skimmed along his arms and wrapped about his neck. He began to explore the soft warmth of her breasts with his hands and she sucked in a quick harsh breath, but did not pull away. After a moment, she leaned in to his touch and it was his turn to struggle for breath when she brushed her lips against his neck and nipped at the lobe of his ear.
When her hands moved down to explore him, he guided her, showing her what pleased him, and then he grasped her hands and pulled them up and away to rest by her head as he bore her down to the softness of the bed and stretched himself over her. “Tonight you gave me leave to be in charge, Katie.”
“Do you not like my touch?”
He nuzzled at her neck. “I like it all too well. But tonight we will go slowly. And that means that I touch you.” She did not bar his lips or his patient fingers access to any part of her and he felt a jolt of triumph when his touch made her writhe and moan until she convulsed beneath him.
“Are you sure of this Katie?’
She didn’t answer with words, only pressed her lips to his neck, slid a kiss up to his jaw, and captured his mouth with hers.
He came into her smoothly, and she wrapped her legs around him instinctively drawing him deeper, deepening the kiss between them at the same moment.
They moved together in a unison that made him feel as if they might have melted together into one soul. He felt the surge of orgasm overtake him and let himself be swept away, his thoughts be tumbled about until he knew nothing, not even his name.
At last he rolled from her, pulling her with him so that they rested together like spoons. He brushed his lips against her hair. He was pleased with himself, until she said, very softly, as if she wasn’t certain she wanted him to hear, “Would you want me as your wife if I agreed to stay? If you thought I could be a partner to you in your efforts here? Could be of use to your people.”
The idea jolted through him like a bolt of lightning, leaving an ache behind. It was impossible.
He had not answered her question directly, Kate reflected, as she lay beside him, listening to his even breathing. But when he rolled from her, his arms had tightened to bring her with him and he had curled his body around hers, warmer than any brick or pan of coals could ever be.
That was answer in itself. He wanted her to stay with him. He wouldn’t admit it because he was a stubborn man. She didn’t understand all his reasoning, but she was beginning to. If he weren’t engaged in illegal activities, no doubt he would have sent for her long ago.
Most likely it would do no good to ask him if she could stay. But she had been right to try to mend fences. Not that such a thing would solve all his problems. At least not at once. An alliance of landowners would be the best way to see to feeding of the population, as well as to securing greater profits in the coming years without starving anyone.
She reached for his hand, warmly possessive against her breast and lifted it to her mouth to press a kiss against the rough knuckles that had surprised her with a gift of pleasure so intense she blushed all over even now at the memory.
Thankfully, the room had been so dark he could have had no notion of how close she had come to losing control and crying out his name…or worse, that she loved him. He wouldn’t want to know that. Not yet. Not until he had found a way to feed his people. Solving his problems would solve hers, too.
In the morning, he was still beside her and she turned to watch him sleep, until she noticed that his breathing was less even than it should be. Daringly, she reached her hand out to lay flat against his hip, but he did not respond. She moved her fingers against the muscles of his stomach lightly, wondering if it tickled. If he even noticed her light touch. In a moment she could not doubt that he did.
“Do you not know it is dangerous to rouse a sleeping man that way, Katie?”
She noted there was no trace of sleepiness in the green eyes that watched her closely. She slid closer as she tightened her fingers around him. “I thought I might have a better chance of being in charge if you were asleep. Do you object?”
He didn’t answer, just laughed raggedly and pulled her head down for a lingering kiss.
She received a note that Jeffreys and his son would come for dinner that night with scarcely an hour to notify the kitchens. The cook looked at her as if she’d said Lady Dilys and her ghostly husband would be down for dinner, but had not answered Kate’s inquiries as to why the news was so shattering.
“We don’t mix,” was her only answer.
She glanced at the note of acceptance. The reply was terse and gave no indication whether they were pleased or displeased at the invitation. But she supposed an acceptance was proof enough that there could be the start of a truce between the families—no matter what the cook thought.
She had not dared tell Sean until she heard from Jeffreys. Now, holding the acceptance note, after the cook’s reaction, she was suddenly afraid the fragile bond that had built between them would crush under the weight of his anger.
He was not pleased. In fact, he was incensed beyond comprehension. “You invited him? Into my home?”
“He is your neighbor.”
He was infuriated enough to hit his fist against the wall, though the stone suffered less under the onslaught than his own hand. “He is my enemy.”
She was determined to get him to see reason. “Then, for the good of everyone, it is time to make
peace.”
“You don’t know what you’re asking of me.” He looked at her bleakly. “You don’t know what you’re asking of Bridget. If I had not sent Niall and my uncle to Dublin--”
Bridget? “What has Bridget to do with this?” She thought of Jamie Jeffreys watching them as the picnicked beside the castle. Of Bridget’s hasty departure. What was it that he would not tell her?
“Why did you do this?”
“I wanted to help. I want to find a way for you to do what you need to do without breaking the law—“
“You mean, you thought because I slept with you that I could be persuaded back to London with you, if you could just take care of the pesky business of making certain that all my people had enough to eat?”
“I didn’t—“
“You were wrong. I’ve done without a woman in my bed for long enough before. No matter how pleasant you are between the sheets, I’ll not let you be a distraction. And I’ll not let you destroy my family.” He strode out of his study and into the hallway, bellowing for Douglas.
She followed in time to see Douglas, face pale, come running. “I’ve just heard, my lord. Cook told me.”
“He’s not to step foot in this house. Do you understand me?”
“I do.” Douglas nodded solemnly and Kate suddenly feared that rather than mere discord, she might see blood shed tonight.
Before she could think what to do. What to say, Bridget appeared, looking annoyed but not worried. “What is the commotion, Sean?”
“Nothing, Bridget.”
At her skeptical look, he added, “Just a disgreement between Kate and I. It is already resolved.”
He looked at his sister as if he were afraid she would collapse at the very name Jeffreys. And it was equally obvious she had not heard the cook’s rumors. Kate realized that no one had told her, not even Cook, because they wanted to protect her. From what?
Bridget looked at her. “What did you do?”
Kate, remembering that she had said Jamie Jeffreys’s name without bursting into tears, risked telling her the truth, though she could see that Sean did not want her to. “I invited the Jeffreys for dinnner.”
Bridget became still, expressionless. Her maid let out a little moan of dismay.
“She did not know, Bridget. I did not tell her. She was trying to bring peace between Jeffreys and me.” He exchanged a glance with Douglas. “Do not fear, they will not step foot in this house as long as I draw breath.”
Bridget shook her head. “It is time for you to forgive him.”
Sean looked as though she’d asked him to personally forgive the wandering ghost of Cromwell for the atrocities he had visited upon Ireland. “I will never forgive him.”
The girl went over to her brother and put her arms around him, resting her head lightly on his shoulder. “You must.”
He put his arms around her as if he could protect her from the world. “After what he—“
She broke away from him and put her hands on her hips. “Your wife is right. It is time to put the past behind us.”
Kate was alarmed when she saw that Bridget was trembling, though her words were reasonable—surprisingly so. What did she not understand? What had they not explained to her? She felt she had made an unforgivable mistake. But what?
The sound of the guests arriving riveted them all the spot. Douglas stood rooted to the spot, clearly torn as he looked to Sean for instructions.
“Welcome them, Douglas,” Bridget said.
“Let me send them away without trouble,” Kate pleaded, when Sean looked incapable of offering welcome to his enemy.
“Let them in, Douglas,” Sean said, his eyes focused on his sister’s face. “But if they offer her insult, they will pay.”
Douglas still looked torn, but he hurried to do as he was bid.
Kate stood transfixed in the hallway, wishing that she could call back time itself as father and son appeared, and Bridget’s trembling became more pronounced. Sean moved toward her, but she flinched away.
“McCarthy.” Jeffreys nodded politely enough, even though he had not used Sean’s title to address him. Though her husband preferred not to hear the title from his family, she doubted that he would have given permission for Jeffreys to dispense with it. Her hopes for the evening, already low, dropped further. Tonight would be a true miracle if it passed without bloodshed and mayhem. A miracle indeed.
“Jeffreys,” Sean acknowledged with bare civility.
“Good evening, Jamie.” Bridget’s eyes caught Jamie Jeffreys and she clasped her hands together, but she did not move.
Jeffreys was no more pleased than Sean at the greeting. “He’s a man now, girl. Call him Mister Jeffreys, as is proper.”
Bridget glanced at him, challenge in her eyes. “A man is not made by his father, but by his deeds. What has he done to deserve that name?”
Jamie flushed deeply. Kate realized there was more to the feud than simple differences and jealousy over a title and possession of a run down abbey. She had made a serious blunder and she had no idea how to fix it. She glanced at Sean in silent apology, not surprised that he took no notice at all of her.
Sean did not know what to do. Bridget should not have said such a thing, true as it was, if she wanted peace tonight. Part of him knew that the desire to run the men through would not be wise. Part of him didn’t care if he was hanged for the crime. At least Bridget would be revenged at last.
As if they knew his thoughts, and entertained similar ones themselves, there was silence and, for a moment, it seemed that the evening would come to blows, or the Jeffreys would turn on their boot heels and leave without taking off their cloaks.
He didn’t like the way Jamie’s gaze was fixed on Bridget. “I’m to serve Her Majesty in India. I go to London within the month. Is that deed enough to prove I’m a man?”
Bridget shrugged, as if she had no reason to hate these men at all, to Sean’s amazement. “Man enough to break bread with us at the abbey.”
They sat down to dinner. Sean was not happy, but he followed Bridget’s lead.
Kate glanced at him hopefully, but he glared at her. She would not be happy to hear what he had to say when they were private. If, as it seemed they might, they survived the ordeal of dinner without killing each other.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Dinner, he supposed, could be termed a success. No food, wine, or blood, had been spilled upon the snow white linens. Cook had outdone herself, despite her lack of notice. His servants, not usually known for their impeccable skills, could not have been faulted for anything except the glares they threw Jeffreys behind his back.
Kate was the most at ease during the meal, though he knew it was a false front from the way her fingers twisted the napkin in her lap. He supposed she had learned how to pretend ease and graciousness, no matter how one felt.
A good trait for the wife of a politician, he realized bleakly. And one that would serve her well when she rusticated as a divorced woman while her sisters traveled the world with their husbands and raised their children.
Jeffreys, as if feeling the strain himself, took his leave before it was time for the gentlemen to retire. When he stood and offered his apologies, there was a collective sigh of relief from everyone.
Still, Bridget had seemed stronger and braver than ever, as she stood by the door, saying her goodbyes as if she spoke to neighbors she barely knew, rather than men who had accused her of attempted murder.
As if she knew what he thought, she threw her arms around him quickly and pecked his cheek. “She is meant for you, do not be angry with her.”
“To—“
“He is to be far away from me, now. What more can you ask?”
“That a bullet take him in some faraway battle so you never need fear him again.”
Bridget looked at him in puzzlement. “I never feared him, Sean. He was the one who was afraid. And I believe I’ve forgiven him for that.” She smiled at Kate. “So see, your wife did well by me, after all.”
He expected her to take the stairs up to her room, but instead she slipped out the door of the abbey to the outside. Without a cloak. He was about to call her back when her maid, cloaked and with Bridget’s draped across her arm ran hastily to catch up to her mistress.
“I’m sorry, Sean.” Kate and he were alone in the hall, the servants having mysteriously melted away without a sound.
“Sorry?” How many ways had he lost his mind tonight? To allow Jeffreys into his home? At his table? To break bread with him? And now he was contemplating—no, anxious to find a way to forgive her so that he could share her bed again tonight with an easy conscience.
Fool. He looked at her. He wanted her. But he could not throw away his plans to satisfy some primal urge. “I’m sending you home tomorrow.”
“But I can help you.”
“Do you know what would have happened if my uncle had been here tonight?” Thank God for the business in Dublin.
“If you had told me—“
“It is not your concern, Kate. You were to be here only until your ship sailed. I think we’d all find ourselves more comfortable if you waited the remaining time at an inn on the coast—well away from here.”
“You don’t mean that.”
He rubbed his eyes wearily, half hoping that she would be gone when he opened them again. But she was still there, a plea for forgiveness in her eyes. “I can’t trust you.”
“You can. This was a mistake. I did not mean to hurt Bridget.”
“Not even when you threatened to turn her in if I did not come to your bed?”
“I would never have done so.” Anger flashed through her. “And it is not I who made her vulnerable to such a threat—it was you. I only want to help you escape the trap you’ve set for yourself.”
“So that you can trap me for yourself? Turn me into a foolish fop of a lord who thinks London better than here, where my people are?” Realizing this was a dangerous conversation to have out in the open, he turned toward the stairs. “Come to bed, Kate. I will decide what to do about you in the morning.”
A Very Romantic Christmas Page 36
