by TJ Bennett
His face had gone white at the mention of the cliff. “I may be immortal, but you are trying to kill me. I swear it.” He ran a hand through his wet hair. “I don’t even know where to begin. Perhaps I should just lock you in your room with a twenty-four-hour guard at the door and be done with it.”
“Gerard—”
“Curiosity killed the cat. Isn’t that how the saying goes?”
I tried to sooth him. “We do not know that I can be killed while I am here.”
“We do not know that you can’t.”
I shivered again. I really was starting to get cold.
“Blast it—you’re freezing.” He glanced over his shoulder at the fireplace, and seconds later, it roared to life.
Handy skill, that.
“Come here.”
He marched me over to the wide hearth and positioned me in front of it, my back to him, my front to the flames, then retrieved a blanket from a trunk at the foot of his bed. Returning with it, he vigorously rubbed me down while I blushed from the familiarity inherent in the action. Rather than step back when he was done, however, he wrapped the blanket around us and tucked me beneath his chin, bringing my back flush against his body.
“A-are you cold, too?” I asked hesitantly.
“Yes, Catherine. Very cold,” he murmured into my hair. He did nothing more, simply held me. Too quickly, I was warm all over. I stared into the flames he had created and felt the awareness of woman to man and of the unfinished business we still had between us.
I shifted awkwardly in his embrace, pulling slightly away.
“Have you grown too hot?” he asked, his voice in my ear. His lips brushed my cheek, making it tingle.
“I am warming up,” I said carefully. “I should probably go to my room and change.”
Even to my own ears, I sounded reluctant. I wanted so much to stay and luxuriate in his embrace.
“In a moment,” he murmured, his hands sliding up and over my shoulders.
The blanket shifted with each glide of his palms, creating a languorous friction across my overly sensitized skin. When his fingers swept closer and closer to my breasts, I ached with longing. I could feel the press of his growing hardness against the small of my back, and I swallowed a groan suffused with desire.
I had not forgotten all the reasons we shouldn’t be together. That did not stop me from wanting him, however, and Gerard was no fool. He had to sense my ambivalence, and he was opportunistic enough to take advantage of it, to use my desire to get what we both wanted but could not have.
“You came looking for me today,” I said softly, reluctant to disturb this moment of stasis before the change—whatever it was to be—happened between us.
“I will always come for you, Catherine. You’re mine. You have been from the moment I pulled you up onto the beach. You just don’t know it yet.”
The note of possession in his voice should have frightened me, but it did not. Perhaps it was because I understood it; I needed him the same way.
He slid a finger beneath the lace at my bodice and pulled the cameo out. “I accept that you were theirs first. I will not take them from you. But you can make room for me, too.”
My breath caught in my throat. “Gerard, I don’t know how. There is so much in the way, so many reasons not to…”
He took my chin in his hand and turned me to face him. “There is only one reason, and that is if you don’t want me.”
“You don’t know what you’re asking of me. If I tell you yes, I think you will never let me go.”
He nodded slowly. “I will not lie to you about that, at least.”
“Then how can I say yes?” I cried. “Before, I thought there was a chance to go home to the children, but now I doubt everything I had hoped for. If I give myself to you, will it be because all of my other options have been taken away? Is what is between us true, or am I simply settling for the only thing I can have, even if I want it so much it hurts to breathe?” I balled my hands into fists. “And if the chance came to leave, would I take it? How can you want me under those circumstances? How can either of us ever trust what I feel?”
He took hold of my fists and opened my fingers, bringing them up, kissing the tips one by one. The blanket slid to the floor.
“Catherine, what you don’t seem to understand is that I don’t care how you come to me. I don’t care if fate or chance or God himself has taken away your options. I don’t care if you only want me because I’m available. I will take anything I can get of you and be glad for it. I want the peace you bring, your ferocious spirit, all to myself. I’ve been thirsty all my life, and you are like water in the desert. Even if you can only spare a drop or two, I will drink and be grateful.”
“Liar,” I whispered, trembling before him, my need for him raw and unsatisfied. “You’re greedy. If you could, you’d take it all.” And then I spoke the thing I truly feared. “And if I give in to you now, I will want you forever.”
He smiled, and it was bittersweet. “As it happens, forever is all we have.”
He leaned down and took my mouth with his.
Chapter Eighteen
This time, when Gerard kissed me, the room did not spin, although the burst of emotions it created in me made it seem to do just that. No, it trembled a little, but it stayed put. He lifted his head and looked around.
“You were right, it only wanted for more practice,” he murmured, then molded his body to mine and kissed me again.
I wilted against him, the combination of wet fabric, warm flesh, and solid body making my knees go weak with desire. I greedily absorbed the taste and scent of him, gripping his arms, luxuriating in the sensual feast that was Gerard. I did not close my eyes. I wanted to watch his eerie gray irises rimmed with coal black—light surrounded by dark—as he savored me. His arms tightened at my boldness and he deepened the kiss, opening my mouth to slick his tongue over mine in a scorching caress. A helpless sound escaped my throat as sharp claws of need caught me, pulled me in, and held me fast. My fingers flexed on his biceps when an intense bolt of desire shot through me.
I gasped and pulled my mouth away. How was it he could fill me with such yearning after just a kiss? Pressing my forehead to his shoulder, I panted softly. “What are you doing to me?”
“If I need to explain, I must not be doing it right,” he said into my hair.
I blew out an exasperated breath. “Other than kissing me.” I looked up at him. “Are you—are you using magic on me?”
“The oldest kind.” He stroked a hand down my back, pressing our bodies together. “The same kind you are using on me.”
He bent and slipped an arm behind my knees, then picked me up and carried me to the bed. The act was pure domination, and yet no Egyptian queen carried on her litter could have been more worshipped. Unseen hands slid the counterpane back, but right before he set me down, I arched away from the bed.
My emotions in a jumble, I grabbed at the only reason I could think of not to fling myself into his bed. “I’m wet.”
His eyebrows rose.
“My dress—from the rain,” I hastened in explanation. “I will get your bed wet.”
He lowered me to the sheets and followed me down. “Do not give it another thought,” he said, his expression innocent. “I intend to see much worse gets done to it before we’re through.”
He leaned down, nuzzling and pressing soft kisses to my throat, the silk of his too-long hair brushing my cheek. “God, you smell so sweet. And you taste even better…”
“Gerard, wait,” I murmured, what little control I had over myself slipping away.
This was ridiculous. I was twenty-nine years old. Surely I had enough strength of will left to tell him no and mean it. “This isn’t who I am. I do not do this sort of thing.”
His only answer was to cup my breasts in his hands and kiss them through the fabric of my damp dress. Fighting the sensual pull, I threaded my fingers through his hair and tugged his head up enough for me to meet his gaze. “W
e are not married. That means something to me.”
He stared at me for a long moment, his eyes like molten silver. “Well, then, I will marry you. Problem solved.”
Shock exploded inside me like a bomb on a battlefield. I released him. “What? We-we cannot simply…get married,” I sputtered.
He pushed out an exasperated breath. “Make up your mind. Either we marry or we don’t, but I am not giving you up because of some antiquated notion of propriety.” His jaw clenched. “I found you. You were meant for me. If a wedding will help you to accept it, so be it.”
My alarm escalated. He meant to do it. “Marriage is forever, Gerard. It is not the sort of thing one does in haste. Who would even perform the ceremony?”
A smug look crossed his face. “We’ll make Pangburn do it. After all, he said your happiness was important to him.”
“Oh, yes, that would bode well for an auspicious beginning.”
“We’ll talk about it later. I’m busy now.”
He began unfastening my dress. I stopped his hands.
“This is the sort of thing we must discuss before, not after,” I insisted. “That is the point I am trying to make. We should take our time—”
“Oh, I intend to take my time with you.” He sat up long enough to make short work of his cravat, collar, and waistcoat. “Believe me. And afterward, we’ll go get a special license and get married.”
I scrambled up against the headboard, panicking. “Gerard, it will be the middle of the night. The magistrate will be asleep!”
He reached out and snatched me back. “We’ll wake him up. Being the master has to be good for something around here.”
I put my head in my hands. Trying to reason with Gerard when he wanted something was like banging my head into a brick wall. It only gave me a headache. “You are being an insufferable, domineering, overbearing, insufferable—”
“You said that already.”
“Why would I want to marry you?” I nearly shouted. “I will never have a moment’s peace or my own say so again if I do.”
He kissed me until I lay limp in his arms, my head spinning, then pulled back, glaring at me. “You want to marry me because you love me, woman. And you will always have a say. You are far too strong a force to be reckoned with. But as for peace—no, I cannot promise you that, but I will do my very best to make you happy for as long as I am able.” He scratched his chin and sighed. “But I’ve made a mess of this, haven’t I?”
I stared at him mutely. I wanted to be romanced, not railroaded. I wanted flowers and pretty words and…and that is just what Jonathan had done. That had not turned out so well in the end, had it? Did I really want what I had already had and failed so miserably at?
“It is because I am not used to having to ask for what I want. But I can learn.” Gerard arose then, in only his shirtsleeves and breeches, and sank down to the floor on one knee, taking my hand in his. “Mrs. Briton, I esteem you greatly. Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”
I sat up, a smile blossoming despite the hovering threat of tears. “You esteem me greatly?”
He grimaced. “I didn’t want to frighten you away with what I was truly feeling.”
I leaned forward, placing my free hand on his cheek. “Try me.”
His expression became fierce. “I want to hoard you like a pirate’s treasure. I want to savor you like fine wine. I want to devour you. I’m appalled that every time we meet, my heart races because I think, what if it’s the last time? When you let me touch you, I want to shout my joy to the world, and when you refuse me, I’m in the very bowels of Hell.”
“Oh, Gerard,” I whispered helplessly. “You are the strongest man I know. You are like an unpolished diamond, rough and beautiful and priceless, and when I look into your eyes, I believe every word you say. But when we are apart—I cannot believe a man like you would care for someone like me.”
“I love you.” He pressed his hand over mine on his cheek. “I would kill for you. I would die for you, if I knew how. But for the first time in a long time, I want to live. Dammit, Cat, I’m a mess, with or without you, and well I know it. But if these are my choices, I’ll take with you every time.”
The tears that had threatened finally spilled over, tracking down my cheeks. I slid to the floor in front of him and stroked my fingers through his rumpled hair.
“What am I to do with you?” I whispered.
“Marry me?”
I huffed a laugh. “You’re persistent, I’ll give you that.”
“I’m a veritable Sisyphus of persistence.”
“Goodness. Hopefully with better results.”
“That would be up to you, now, wouldn’t it?”
I sat back on my heels and contemplated him. My life would never be the same if I married him. There would be places in his life I could not go, secrets he might never share. He turned into a beast at first light, for God’s sake.
And yet, could I bear to live on this island and be apart from him?
I did not know. One thing I did know, however: to continue to see him every night, sharing meals at his table and kisses in the moonlight—that would lead to only one inevitable conclusion. I didn’t have the strength of will to refuse him much longer. I would belong to him sooner or later, with the Church’s blessing or no.
Even so, considering the circumstances, this was too important a decision to be rushed. “I promise I will think about it, Gerard.”
“After that declaration?” He looked at me askance. “All you can say is, ‘I’ll think about it?’ Good God, must I set myself aflame and dance naked on the nearest mountaintop as well?”
I tilted my head regally. “That will not be necessary… I will permit you to wear your smalls.”
His booming laughter shook the roof. My breath caught at the sound. I had never heard him laugh like that before, and I thought, If I have to give up the world to be with him, it will be a fair exchange.
I remembered the children then, beyond my reach back home, and my heart ached. I sent a prayer up that someone, somewhere, would love them as much as I had tried. A shadow must have crossed my face, because he touched my cheek and frowned.
“What is it? Tell me what has made you sad.”
I would not dampen this moment by longing for what I could not have. I would take joy in what I could. I would take joy in him.
“It is nothing.” I forced the melancholy from my heart. “Kiss me again—we need the practice.”
He set me away from him. “If I do, then I will not leave you tonight. And I have things to do.”
I looked at him, astonished, and slid a look toward the bed. “I thought—that is…” I was flustered, conscious of my assumption he would attempt to seduce me into changing my mind, and ashamed because deep inside, I knew he would succeed, thereby taking the responsibility for succumbing to him out of my hands.
His smile was gentle, not triumphant. “You said it was important to you to be married to me first,” he reminded me. “Even if I think it idiotic, I will try to abide by what pleases you. Therefore, I have a magistrate to wake up and arrangements to make. In the miraculous event you should decide to say yes to my proposal, I would not wish to lose out by being unprepared.”
Stunned that he had chosen not to press his advantage, I merely stared at him as he brought my hand to his lips and kissed it. “Dream of me tonight, my love,” he whispered, and was gone.
…
I missed him. There was no avoiding the truth. I loitered in my room most of the evening; the next morning, despite the chill, I left the window open in the hopes he, as the creature, would come to visit me, but he did not.
I had no occupation to keep me busy—that is, until I remembered Mrs. Blackpot. She was attempting to craft the prophylactics for which I had given her instructions. Late in the afternoon, I set off to see her, my usual accompaniment of footmen in tow. I did not think I needed them any longer given that Beast’s desire was to see me kept safe. However, I could not di
ssuade the footmen from attending me without explaining why. I would ask Gerard when I saw him next to reduce the number of my entourage, although I doubted he would ever let me gad about completely on my own.
I stifled a yawn as my carriage approached Mrs. Blackpot’s modest thatched-roof cottage set off the high street. The odd hours I’d been forced to keep since arriving on the island were beginning to catch up with me. Even so, I felt overly aware of everything around me. Indeed, nearing the cottage, I noted something unusual, at least to my mind.
A man on a horse lurked in the shadows some distance back from the carriage, a hat pulled low over his eyes, a heavy coat with the collar upturned protecting him from the cool autumn air. He pulled back as we approached, sinking into the shade behind a stand of oak trees before he disappeared completely.
Perhaps, I reasoned, it was someone come to ask for Mrs. Blackpot’s more clandestine advice who preferred not to be seen by others. Belatedly, it occurred to me that I should have been more discreet in my own approach, given the nature of my visit and of the rumors about me abounding in the village. I bit my lip, horrified at my lapse. I would have to keep my mind on my business and off Gerard if I was to manage this visit properly.
As I got out, I called up to the driver, “Best pull the carriage around the back, John. You and the footmen can wait for me there.”
He tipped his hat (did I only imagine his disapproving frown?) and did as he was told. With a sigh, I went and knocked on the midwife’s door.
Mrs. Blackpot ushered me in with a glance over my shoulder and quickly shut the door behind me. As I turned to face her, I noted a bluish bruise high on her cheekbone. I pointed at the injury, concerned. “Are you quite all right, Mrs. Blackpot?”
She touched a finger self-consciously to the bruise and forced a smile. “Walked into the door, I did. Wasn’t watching where I was going. So, stopping in to see how our little enterprise is coming along?” She wore the same brown serge sack gown in which I’d seen her before.
