by Julia Donner
He became distracted by the twinkling display on her almost completely exposed chest. Knowing the diamonds would catch the firelight, she’d tried not to breathe whenever he looked her way, but she had to take in some air or pass out.
Cassandra saw the heat flare in his eyes when she inhaled, and all her former confidence fled. She bowed her head, feeling restless under his steady gaze and could barely stammer her thanks. She wondered why it meant so much that she believed him. She never paid heed to the fine words of other men, but with Rave it was so important that he liked her as a person. Or the person she’d like to be.
“Cassandra, would you do me the favor of looking at that room?”
She twisted to look over her shoulder at the open doorway then got up and padded in her stocking feet across the carpet. Peering into the partially lit room, she glanced around his bedchamber.
He certainly doesn’t lack for gall, she thought, studying the room. She tried to pick out what was so important for her to see, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary. His man had laid out his nightclothes but wasn’t in the room. The décor was masculine, too dark for her preference, and yet conveyed a sense of comfortable seclusion. She wondered if he merely wanted to be complimented but that was too simple an answer for Ravenswold.
A stab of doubt and fear sliced through her vitals, chilling her limbs. She’d gotten this far thinking that marriage to him was what she wanted. Now, she wasn’t so sure. The quiet and restful conversation had been something near bliss, but would it always be that way?
She yearned for a home and love and a haven. She needed escape from the nagging worry of being discovered and accused of murder. The feelings of displacement and obligation that haunted her life disappeared during the brief minutes of tea and a comfortable chat.
But the peace at Ravencourt and the earl’s easygoing nature were deceptive. He hid something. She had allowed weakness to override skepticism and dropped her guard.
She tried again but was unable to find what he wanted her to see in his bedroom, but viewing this intimate part of his daily life helped her to confront the reality of what being his wife meant. She had to tell him everything. A gentleman of Ravenswold’s position could not marry a killer and his temperament would never accept that another man had taken her virginity. She backed out of the bedchamber and firmly closed the door.
Ravenswold no longer sat by the fire. He’d gone to the desk where he removed something from a drawer. He slid the drawer shut and came around the desk corner toward her. His expression told her that this was the time.
She wasn’t ready. Her jumbled mind scrambled for clarity. Without her slippers he loomed even larger. Her body involuntarily tightened. She closed her hands into fists and worked to keep her brain and body in order. This was no time to give way to panic. For her to behave like this was unusual but inadvertently let her know how much was at stake.
“Cass, don’t say anything yet. Please, listen for a moment.”
When she jerked a nod, he took a deep breath before speaking. “I’ve put you through this for a reason. I am much like my father, and he was the despair of my mother. She hated country living and longed for her family and friends in London. I hope that I may have learned from her misery.”
He gestured for her to return to the sofa, and she shook her head. “I’d rather stand, if you don’t mind.”
“As you wish. To continue, Mama had no say in whom she was to wed and might have run off had she known what being married to Father meant. She detested his…sloth, as she called it. But more than that, she hated what she thought of as his unreasonable possessiveness.”
He paused to complete a thought. “My father was not an idle man, and neither am I. After a tour that I thoroughly enjoyed, I discovered that I also preferred a calm, solitary life. When I saw you, all that changed.”
Cassandra’s heart hammered against her ribs. She fought and conquered a wave of dizziness and wasn’t ready when he continued his declaration.
“I won’t lie to you and say that I’ve led a pristine past, but for some unaccountable reason, I grew bored with Corinthian ways after my father and brothers died. What I am trying to tell you in a roundabout way is that I have the same predilection regarding sleeping arrangements as my father did.”
“I don’t understand.”
His gaze didn’t waver. “When I marry, there will be only one bedchamber, never two. Mama considered this request more than an eccentricity. She called it an ‘imposition’. It meant so much to my father that he had it written into the marriage contracts. I will only require your word.”
Strung out to the breaking point, Cassandra pointed out, “Did it never occur to your father—or to you—that this sort of suspicion can be a flag waved in the face of some women?”
“There was a reason for putting it in writing.”
“By all means, let’s keep it nice and tidy. And that justifies an insult?”
Cassandra held her ground when he took a step closer. “No insult ever was or is now intended. It’s a mere formality and certainly less restrictive than what was previously expected of women of our class. In medieval times the marriage contracts were written up ‘what is mine, to me.’”
“I’m not entirely without an education, Ravenswold, and happen to know that that had to do with land and inheritances, all of which my parents squandered in spite of any number of legalities.”
“What I am so clumsily attempting to explain is that I value what is my own. You must understand my position.”
“Most assuredly! Women are chattel and brainless and are to be penned up with the rest of the cattle.”
She hadn’t expected him to take this tack and wrestled with her fear of entrapment. When she started to move, he stopped her by merely raising his hand. She hated it that her body obeyed him before her mind reacted.
“Cass, you must know that I have never thought of you that way.”
“How gratifying. In any event, what do I have to do with this stupid old crotchet?”
“Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”
Even though she’d known that this was coming, she stepped back, emotionally unbalanced and unprepared to answer. She looked away from his probing stare and glanced around the room as if she’d forgotten something, which she had. The diamond paste clips on her abandoned slippers winked at her from where they waited beside the couch. What she should have remembered was to keep her wits and temper in check. She had repeatedly underestimated this man.
And why the bizarre demand for the same apartments? Would he become even odder after the marriage? Did she know him at all? It took time to know someone, but once the choice was made, and the vows spoken, there was no way out for a woman but disgrace and poverty.
Rave appeared to be a kind man, amiable and generous from all she’d seen of his home and staff. He was well-mannered—in public at least—and titled. The list of reasons for marrying him seemed to go on and on. She did think that he had a dreadful temper and a carefully hidden and cunning twist to his mind. He could be stubborn, and there was still the curious business about the bedchambers. He did have his faults, but then, who didn’t?
Arriving at the subject of personal faults, she decided that since he was asking for her, he should be made aware of hers. Defensive fear more than pride lifted her chin. She threw her imperfections at his head like a challenge.
“You should be warned that I have a wretched temper and can be prodigiously stubborn.”
“I cannot see that as a hindrance, Cass.”
“I’m often impatient about things and cannot understand why.”
He nodded soberly. “I often suffer from the same complaint.”
“I have a waspish tongue when provoked.”
“It is to be expected when one is angry.”
Cassandra huffed an impatient sigh. Why couldn’t she just get on with it and tell him the truth? She ended up blurting something ridiculous.
“I detest lobster, cannot b
ear a liar and do very unstylish things, like climbing trees, wrestling and using unseemly language.”
He shrugged a shoulder, unconcerned. “It appears we share similar inclinations, which could mean that we might rub along very well together.”
“These are not trifling matters, sir, but embarrassing solecisms, and I must also warn you that on occasion I might dress in masculine attire, which I prefer for riding!”
His voice deepened as he stepped even closer. “I expect that it will shock the servants, but I know I’d find it quite stimulating.”
She straight-armed his advance with a hand flattened in the center of his chest. “Wait! I have another confession.”
“It won’t signify. I’ve waited months to ask for you, and I must have an answer now.”
Surprise folded her arm when he moved in for the kill. “What do you mean—months?”
“We’ll talk about that later.” He pushed against her palm now squashed between their chests. “Will you, or won’t you, have me?”
When he lifted his hands as if to wring an answer from her, she desperately shouted, “I may have killed a man!”
She could see that he was about to brush her off with another automatic reassurance when the significance of her admission penetrated his singular aim for her acceptance.
Missing his stride for only a second, he straightened up and leaned back slightly. “How?”
“Certainly not with my bare hands! I shot him, of course.”
“When?”
“A few months ago.”
“Are you under any suspicion or threat for this act?”
“Not to my knowledge.”
His eyes narrowed. “Did you have sufficient reason to shoot him?”
“Most assuredly. He was about to kill someone else.”
“Excellent,” Ravenswold said, and she looked up at him, stupefied. “You don’t show a want of courage, act decisively when necessary and know your own mind. I couldn’t wish for more. Will you marry me?”
“Have you taken leave of your senses? I’ve just told you that I’ve shot a man, climb trees and like to wear britches. I’m not suitable material for a wife much less a countess!”
“You also evade answers to simple questions and swim dishabille in ponds regardless of the welfare of your mount or the tender sensibilities of anyone passing by.”
Cassandra stumbled back a step. “You admit that you watched me?”
“Damned right I did, and I’ve had the devil of a time sleeping ever since.”
Victory simmered within his gaze. He thought he had her on the run and stalked her, backing her up, until her bottom connected with the sofa. “My lovely Cass, I suspect that you aren’t merely stubborn but are excessively intractable. As to the question of your unfortunate shooting incident; my land takes up a sizable part of this county, which makes me the local magistrate, so I intend to do whatever I please with your confession.”
“That’s not fair!”
“Life can be that way, and if you don’t give me an answer this instant, I shall have no other choice but to take your protestations as mere coyness, a tactic often used by women of a devious nature, usually mistresses hanging out for a bauble or more money.”
Rave leaned down. He braced his hands on the back of the sofa on the each side her hips, trapping her between the couch and his body.
His lowered voice, silky and warm, brushed against her lips. “If it’s a mistress you wish to be, that’s not entirely out of the question. I’d be delighted to treat you as such—if that’s what you truly prefer. The decision is yours, Cass. Either be my mistress and allow me the pleasure of making immediate use of the bed in the other room, or say you’ll be my wife. Agree to marry me and I’ll behave as a gentleman should but not without regret. Answer me, Cass. Put me out of my misery. By now you must know that I’m thoroughly in love with you and straining at the bit.”
She felt the heat of confusion blossom on her face when he pressed his hips against hers, a quarry suddenly cornered. He leaned closer, bearing down, his mouth hovering over hers.
“Answer me, Cass, yes or no!”
“Yes!”
Cassandra clapped a hand over her mouth when he relented, raising his head. She felt his huge frame relax, like a mountain melting into itself. He stepped back, while she glared up at him in a fuming rage.
“Damn your eyes, Ravenswold, you did that on purpose. You intimidated me!”
He shrugged, unconcerned. “I knew you were unused to feeling intimidated. It was necessary to manipulate your ignorance and inexperience.”
“But perhaps I haven’t told you all.”
“It won’t signify.”
He opened his hand and revealed a ring. Designed smaller and more delicate, the onyx and diamond ring nestled in his palm matched his signet. When she didn’t reach for it, he took her left hand and slid the ring on her finger.
“You had it fitted,” she whispered. “How did you know my size?”
“That was the easiest part.”
He studied her hand, holding it up before his eyes. His grip on her arm just above the wrist tightened. He started to lean down with the obvious intention of tasting the underside of her wrist.
Cassandra’s heart bumped hard against her ribs. She couldn’t look away from his parted lips. He had such a lovely mouth for a man. How would his lips feel against her skin? Her pulse throbbed. The tender flesh of her inner wrist yearned for his touch.
He paused midway to murmur, “Best not follow through, old man. Not sure I can stop.”
When he released her, Cassandra heard her breath escape in a slow exhalation. She looked away to hide her disappointment when he stepped back.
“Very well done, Cass. Now that we’re both agreed, and when in a more tractable mood, we shall set the date. It could be next week if you like.”
She choked on a startled breath. “Next week!”
“A special license is only a day’s ride from here. I shall see to it then. May I escort you to your rooms? It’s quite late.”
He didn’t wait for a reply and marched her out the door, saying that he needed to get her away from the tempting intimacy of his rooms before he could renege on his promise to behave. Neither of them remembered her gloves draped over the arm of the sofa or her slippers on the carpet.
In front of her door, Ravenswold planted a kiss on her brow that would have knocked her down if not for the hold he had on her upper arms.
In a quiet, forced undertone he promised, “If you want jewelry, I’ve got boxes full. If you want to travel, I’d be delighted. I had originally thought that you had no notion of how to dress, but now I see that we shall do the selecting of your clothes together. That gown is exquisite, but as much as I admire your figure, I have no intention of allowing other men the privilege of viewing so much of it.”
She watched his mouth and tensed with the need to know its feel against her own. “I do not want nor have I ever desired stylish clothes.”
“That much has already been made clear. Whether or not you want or wear them, you’ll have them.”
“That’s fine!” she cried, upset that he hadn’t kissed her properly and angry with herself for wanting so much to know what it was like.
“I’m forced to show my face in London when parliament is in session and promise to spend at least part of the summer in Bath or Brighton. One or the other. Not both.”
Angry and not knowing why, she snapped, “I loathe Bath and Brighton and prefer to stay here at all times.”
“You’ll come with me to London, and there will be no arguing about it. I shall settle on you the sum of two thousand a year. Is that enough?”
“It’s excessive!” She was appalled by his generosity—but not so much that she wouldn’t strike a bargain while there was an opportunity. “I’d rather start my own stud.”
“Done. You can have the running of mine and the two thousand. I’ll have it written up and sent to your uncle for review. And lastly but n
ot least, you will spend every night in the manner of all Ravenswold wives.”
“I already agreed to that,” she said unable to look away from his mouth.
“You didn’t agree. And not one of our sons will bear a silly name like Ferdinand. I suggest Edward, George, William, or John, and preferably Jack!”
He hovered over her. His parted lips lightly brushed her waiting mouth. Air sloughed in and out of his lungs, heaving like bellows. He stole her breath and gave it back with a muffled groan before he backed away.
Cassandra clutched the skirt of her gown to stop herself from flinging her arms around his neck. Her body shivered with anticipation. She watched him stride away until he was enveloped by the dark at the end of the corridor. She stamped her foot and wondered why she felt like wailing.
Disappointed and drained, she entered her sitting room. Tessa, who vowed to wait up to hear the details of the evening, slept in the wing chair by the ebbing fire. Cassandra draped a shawl over her and went into the bedroom. The swish of her gown sounded loud in the silence.
She sat on the folded down counterpane, shivering as she recalled the restrained power of Ravenswold’s passion. Looking down at her unshod feet, she wriggled her toes in the white silk stockings. Exhaling a sigh, she flopped back onto the bed where she gazed up at the canopy overhead.
“Got you, Ferdie. Now whatever am I going to do with you?”
Chapter 24
An hour before dawn, Cassandra crept by Tessa and out onto the balcony. She closed the door and eased the latch into place. She’d stood by Tessa for a full ten minutes to be sure she slept. The kitchen servants would be stirring soon.
Cassandra hadn’t been able to sleep. Nevertheless, she tingled with excited energy. As much as she enjoyed this sort of clandestine affair, it must be her last.
