Her lashes fluttered. Her eyes opened.
“That’s nice,” she whispered. “Thank you.”
She sounded so polite. It made him smile. It also made him want to ravish her, ruthlessly and impolitely. Once again he held back.
“It can be nicer,” he said. “But we will wait for that.”
He wondered if he had imagined the flicker of disappointment in her eyes. She had said that she was not afraid of intimacy itself, and he could see that was true. It was the consequences of passion that frightened her.
He kissed her again. Again she responded with trust and openness and a sweet eagerness that almost drove him over the edge.
Just a little more...
He drew the nightgown down a little farther so that he could press his lips to the hollow between her breasts. It was deliciously warm and soft, and her skin smelled of lavender and roses. He could see her nipples taut against the thin cover of the silk night rail. The lust roared through him and he drew back abruptly.
“Enough,” he said, “unless I am to perjure myself already.”
Her eyes opened. She looked puzzled for a moment; then understanding dawned and she blushed.
“Do you wish to go back to your own chamber?” she asked.
“No,” Robert said, praying for self-control. “I want to stay here with you.”
She nodded and closed her eyes. She released her breath on a little sigh, then curled herself into the curve of his shoulder and protecting arm. Her body pressed softly, sweetly, against his.
Dear God. Robert knew he should be glad she had such unquestioning trust in him, but he wondered, half despairing, if every night he spent with Lucy would be passed in this state of helpless arousal. With a sigh that was a great deal more frustrated than hers had been, he closed his eyes and tried to sleep.
He was still hovering on the edge of wakefulness a couple of hours later when Lucy’s scream pulled him wide-awake. His hand was halfway to his dirk before he realized that it was no intruder but a nightmare that had disturbed her. He rolled over to look at her. She was lying on her back, panting hard, her eyes wide. Her skin was sheened with sweat and when he touched her she felt feverish, her face burning, her hands ice cold. He tried to draw her toward him, but for a moment she fought him, resisting his comfort.
“It’s all right.” He spoke softly to her, as to a child, soothing her. “It was a bad dream, nothing more. You’re safe with me.”
Her gaze flickered to his face. He saw despair in her eyes.
“Alice,” she said.
He had guessed as much. She had said that she experienced nightmares. He could not expect them to be banished so quickly. He repressed the quick pang of anger and despondency he felt that her fears had resurfaced so soon. It was a sign that she was afraid of her marriage, terrified at the prospect of needing to provide an heir. But he could not let the despair take him too. He was certainly not going to give up now, when they had barely begun.
Gently, carefully, he drew her back into the shelter of his arms. He could feel her shivering and used his body to warm hers. Gradually the shaking ceased, she relaxed and her body grew soft next to his again.
“Thank you,” she whispered. He caught the glint of tears on her cheek and brushed them away with the pad of his thumb.
“Go back to sleep,” he whispered.
He held her until she did.
* * *
IT WAS STRANGE waking up with a man in her bed. It felt unfamiliar and awkward. Lucy woke as pale early-morning light was sliding beneath the shutters and pooling in the room. The nightmare had fled, driven out by Robert’s gentleness and the warmth of his body. She remembered drifting off to sleep in his arms. She felt oddly peaceful inside.
For a moment she lay still, absorbing the strangeness of the situation and then she rolled over to look at her husband. He was asleep, the covers low on his hips, one bronzed arm resting across her body possessively. In the gray light she could see the perfection of his musculature, like one of the marble statues in the library at Forres. Except that Robert was warm and living and strong, and she wanted very much to touch him, not with the detached interest she had felt for those cold sculptures but with curiosity and greed.
She felt sensation stir inside her and in that moment remembered Robert’s kisses and caresses of the previous night. She had been tired and nervous and wound as tightly as a spindle, but she had trusted him and he had not broken his word. She shivered a little as she remembered his lips drifting across her skin. She raised a hand to her throat and traced the path they had taken. Last night she had been almost too exhausted and afraid to be aroused. Almost. The desire had still stirred in her, though. And this morning it was sharper, keener. She felt awake and wanting in some way she did not understand.
Following an impulse she did not want to resist, she placed the palm of her hand on Robert’s chest, over his heart. His skin felt warm and firm. She wanted to press her lips against him and see what he tasted like. The thought was a shocking one. It made her jump inside. She leaned closer, studying his face, the fan of tiny lines at the corners of his eyes, the long thick lashes, the hard slash of his cheekbone. There was stubble darkening his cheek and jaw. It looked rough. She was fascinated. She had never been so close to a man before, not like this.
His hand came up, trapping hers against his chest. His lashes flickered open, his eyes a deep dark blue. He smiled, a sleepy smile that made something quicken and tumble in Lucy’s chest.
“Good morning,” he said softly.
His hand tangled in her hair, drawing her down to kiss him. “It is too early to get up,” he whispered against her lips. “Everyone is still asleep.”
It was true that the inn was still quiet. Lucy found herself whispering too.
“What shall we do, then?”
Robert smiled. He drew her down into the warmth of the bed and started to kiss her again as he had the previous night, long, slow kisses that felt sweet and languorous and filled her body with a heavy heat. It felt different to be doing this in the light of morning, more wicked, more sensual still. Lucy’s senses were flooded with the taste of him and the scent of his skin. It mingled with the faded lavender of the bedclothes and made her head spin with longing and need. He kissed her for a long time; she lost track of time and place and everything except for him, the heat of his body, the touch of his hands and mouth on her, the essence of him. When she finally broke away, dizzy and racked with desire, she found that her nightgown had slid from her shoulders above and was wrapped about her thighs below and it felt too tight, heavy and imprisoning and she wanted to be free of it.
There was a great deal that she wanted.
“Are you all right, sweetheart?” Robert was stroking her cheek. His fingers felt cool, whilst she felt as though she was burning up.
“No,” she said crossly. “I want...”
He laughed. “We can’t do that.”
How provoking. The hot, heavy weight of demand inside her almost made her drive her clenched fists into the mattress in frustration. Why did her body have to torment her when her mind would not let her be free? For a moment she seesawed between longing and fear; for a moment it seemed the sweet need might actually win, but then the scales tipped and the familiar fear swept back, like a steel trap, tightening, draining away all the pleasure until she was left desolate and empty again.
She bit her lip hard. She would not cry.
With a sudden burst of energy, she threw back the covers and stood up. Anything rather than lie here and feel that dark tide sweep in to claim her.
“I am getting up,” she said.
“Come back to bed.” Robert’s voice had deepened. Lucy shivered again, this time not entirely from cold or fear. “No really, I—”
“We need to talk.” He was propped on one elbow now, deliciously rumpled. She felt a little pang of longing. He looked so handsome and so ruffled. Her heart seemed to squeeze tight with happiness and pain, inextricably linked. She edged t
oward the door, then remembered that they were in her chamber and realized she had nowhere to run.
“I don’t think—”
“You’re frightened.” He spoke flatly, denying her the chance to pretend. “I understand. But all will be well now, Lucy.” There was gentleness in his eyes. It made her want to cry. “I’ll look after you.” She wanted to believe him. She wanted it so much. And when she could not she felt her heart shrivel with despair.
“Lucy.” Robert was holding out a hand to her. “Come here.”
She could not. For a moment she was absolutely frozen with fear and misery.
Suddenly she knew she had to escape, from the intimacy of the room and the look in Robert’s eyes, from the panic that filled her chest and stole her breath. Memories pressed too close, frightening her. Her defenses felt so fragile now. Something was changing, but she was not quite sure what it was.
“I have things to do,” she said desperately. “Shopping... I need to pack a bag... Mairi can help me.”
“I doubt you will find the Findon shops occupy you for more than an hour,” Robert said. He sighed, pushing back the covers, standing up.
“My reputation will never survive the knowledge that my bride was out of bed so early the morning after the wedding,” he said dryly as he bent to retrieve his shirt from the floor and pulled it over his head. He came across to her and kissed her again, thoroughly, unhurriedly, so that she could feel the desire beating beneath the gentleness.
“We can’t go back, Lucy,” he said fiercely, against her lips. “I won’t let us.” He dropped his hands from her shoulders and strode from the room.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
“YOU ARE UP EARLY.” Jack strolled into the breakfast parlor, where Robert had just finished his meal, and glanced ostentatiously at the clock. “Well, you did tell me it was a match of convenience, I suppose.” He slid into a seat and reached for the coffeepot. “You look rough,” he added, with mock sympathy. “Uncomfortable night?”
Robert glared at him. “I’m up early because there is much to do before we are ready to sail for Golden Isle.”
Jack grinned, unabashed. “Of course. And all of it more important than seducing your wife.”
Robert threw down his paper with a bad-tempered slap. “I told you last night to mind your own damned business,” he growled. He stood up. “You’ll find me at the harbor. When you have stopped wasting time.”
He went out. The May morning was bitterly chill, but he welcomed the cold. It helped to clear his head and subdue other parts of his body. He liked the early morning when the light was still rising and the air was fresh. It was a time he had always relished.
It was a time that now gave him the chance to think about Lucy. As he strode through the quiet streets of the awakening town, he thought of the way she had responded to his kisses, the way she had kissed him back, and touched him with innocent curiosity and delight. She had been half-seduced, until her memories had turned her cold and driven her from the bed. He had seen how it had happened, watched her withdraw into herself and reerect all the barriers she had used to protect herself in the past. Well, he was going to tear down those walls. He could not allow the tragedy of the past to destroy their future.
As he turned the corner down to the quayside, the wind buffeted him fiercely. It had chased all the clouds away, and out to sea he could see Golden Isle floating on the horizon. He squared his shoulders. He had married Lucy to save his inheritance, and the isle was a part of that. The previous night he had been brought hard and fast to see his responsibilities. He would not shirk them now.
He spent all day at the quayside loading provisions for the voyage, talking further to McCall about conditions on Golden Isle and discussing with Jack the plan to lure Wilfred Cardross into a trap.
Eventually, when the cold sun had sunk behind the mountains to the west, he walked back to the inn with Jack, aware of exhaustion in his limbs, conscious that he had pushed himself to the extreme of physical exertion in order to block out all else.
One look at Lucy was sufficient to bring back every one of those frustrations.
She was sitting in the firelit parlor, talking in a low voice to her sister as they finished their evening meal together. They had evidently been shopping, for Lucy was wearing a new gown. Even Robert, not precisely versed in the ways of fashion, could see that it became her tremendously. It was a rich, deep brown, threaded with gold, with a low neckline that framed in pretty white lace the upper curve of her breasts. Her red hair was piled up on her head, but tendrils escaped to curl against her neck. It looked as though she had been painted in autumn colors, vivid and bright. Unlike the previous day, when she had been pale and strained in her wedding gown, now she glowed, her eyes a deep sapphire blue in the shadows.
Beside him, he heard Jack give a low whistle of appreciation. Lady Mairi, Robert thought, looked as though she welcomed that as little as he did. He gave Jack a glare while Mairi stood up in a rustle of silk.
“You are back at last,” she said, her tone making it clear that she thought Robert had shamefully neglected his bride. “You must forgive us for taking dinner without you. We were hungry.”
She slipped past them, taking care to keep as much distance from Jack as she could, even, Robert was amused to see, moving her skirts carefully out of the way so that they did not brush against him. A moment later Jack seemed to pull himself together with a jerk and walked off after her. Robert closed the door behind them.
Lucy had got to her feet too. For all her elegance, the expression in her eyes was uncertain. Robert remembered the previous night, when she had told him she did not know how to be a wife, and felt a pang of tenderness.
“There is plenty of the beef left,” she offered. “If you are hungry.”
Robert was starving, but there was something he preferred to do first. He crossed the room to her, caught her in his arms and kissed her. He sensed the surprise in her and the slightest hint of resistance. Then she made a startled sound in the back of her throat and he felt that resistance melt and she kissed him back.
It was almost enough to make him forswear his dinner in the need to take her upstairs and make love to her. With an effort he hauled himself back from the brink and released her. Hell, if he gave in to his desires, he would terrify her anew and the small amount of progress they had made would be completely undone.
“I should wash too,” he said gruffly, “and eat.”
She nodded. Her cheeks were rosy red, her eyes bright as stars. She chewed her bottom lip between her teeth, watching him. Robert smothered a groan as he felt his body tighten to near intolerable tension. He groped for the doorknob, needing to put distance between them.
“I’ll just...” He waved a hand vaguely, reversing from the room, almost colliding with Isobel, who was coming the other way with a tray of food. He apologized, cursing himself for a clumsy fool. One way and another, his wife was tying him in knots.
He could see Lucy looking at him, a tiny frown between her eyebrows, as though she was worried about him.
“Are you feeling quite all right?” She took a step toward him, reaching out. He jerked back from her.
“Nothing that some hot food will not remedy.”
Her hand fell to her side. “Of course.” She smiled at Isobel, dropped him a flawless curtsy and went out.
Robert ran a hand through his hair, cursing himself anew. He would far rather Lucy had stayed to talk to him even if there had been a danger he would have fallen on her rather than on his meal. Now he had upset her, confused her perhaps. Truth was, he was feeling so very on edge himself that he was doing nothing to reassure her.
He threw himself down into his seat and attacked the beef bad-temperedly. Who knew that this marriage business would be so damned difficult?
* * *
LUCY PACED HER bedchamber. Mairi had helped her to change for bed—in the absence of a maid they helped each other—and now she was wishing she had asked her sister to stay. Any company w
ould have been welcome. She had picked up her book and tried to read again, but the words seemed to make no sense. She could not concentrate. All she could think was that she had no idea why Robert had kissed her so deliciously and then backed away from her as quickly.
That morning he had sworn he would not allow her to place barriers between the two of them, and although she was trembling inside, she had been willing enough to try to make a leap of faith. For the sake of her marriage and the future of the Methven estates, she knew they could not live locked into separate, barren existences. She could feel a tiny part of her heart opening each day, shedding a hint of light. She trusted Robert not to hurt her. That was a start. So she had been prepared for him to come to her tonight and to take things a little further than they had done before. And then he had flinched from her as though she were a plague carrier.
Men. She had absolutely no understanding of them, and at the current rate of progress she would never have any.
She heard steps on the stair and jumped to her feet. The floorboards creaked on the landing; she heard the low exchange of words as Robert bid good-night to his cousin. She waited. She realized she was holding her breath.
The door of the room opposite closed, the latch dropping with a decisive click. There was silence. Lucy sat down again in the armchair. She could hear nothing but the ticking of the clock on the chest and the crackle of the fire, loud in her ears. Her fingers dug into the velvet of the arms as she waited, as the tension ratcheted up inside her. Time passed. Her bare feet grew chilled. He was not going to come to her. He was not even going to bid her good-night.
Quickly, before she could think, before she allowed herself to be afraid, she banked down the fire and grabbed the candle from the stand. She opened the door and stepped out onto the landing. Chill draughts wreathed about her ankles and set her shivering. She tiptoed across the landing and knocked lightly on the door of Robert’s chamber and, without waiting for a summons, walked in.
Nicola Cornick - [Scottish Brides 01] Page 21
