Perhaps the fact that Dominic had been gone until well after the first of August was what had made it so easy for Melissa to push reality aside, to keep up the pretense that none of this was real. Within three days of the announcement of their betrothal, he had left for Thousand Oaks, where he had been overseeing some hasty improvements to the living arrangements of the main house, and he had only arrived back in Baton Rouge on the eleventh of August. Melissa had forgotten the impact he made upon her senses, and watching his dark face across the linen-covered table from her as they dined at Oak Hollow on the evening of his return, she was shaken by the sharp delight which coursed through her.
It was a small supper party that Aunt Sally and Uncle Josh had arranged to toast the betrothed couple, but Melissa was conscious of only one person in the room—her far-too-soon-to-be-husband. Her eyes traveled over Dominic's lean, mobile features, noting the arrogance and pride that was inherent to him, and she shivered. Would he be a kind husband? Or a cruel one? A spendthrift like her father? Or a generous, astute man like her grandfather? She was bitterly aware that he could move her to great passion and that she found him utterly fascinating, but was that a basis for marriage? A basis enough to entrust her life to him? She didn't believe so, and though she could admit to his handsomeness and charm, she mistrusted it; too much of what Josh had said about him earlier remained clear in her mind. With something close to hostility, she stared at him, unwilling to let herself be distracted by the warm curve of his mouth, or the gleam of teasing laughter in his gray eyes, or the beguiling dimples that came and went as he smiled. She would not like him! she vowed fiercely. She might be forced to marry him, but she was not going to be an adoring slave at his feet. Other women might be bedazzled by his roguish charm, but not she.
Dominic was aware of her unfriendly stare and it baffled him. He had not expected her to greet him with rapture, but then again he had not been prepared to have his bride-to-be welcome him back in such an icy manner. What did she have to be displeased about? he wondered. She was getting a wealthy husband. While all he was gaining was a beautiful, completely confusing shrew. Surely, he mused as he shot her a swift glance from beneath his brows, she wasn't still pretending to be against this farce of a marriage?
It would appear that she was, and as the last remaining days before their nuptials flew swiftly by, Dominic could feel his frustration growing. He was seldom allowed to be alone with Melissa, but if she had been agreeable, they might have managed to steal a few moments of privacy. Obviously that was not what she wanted and he found her elusive, any attempt on his part to talk intimately with her being instantly averted. Not once was he allowed even a glimpse of the vibrant, irresistible creature he had held in his arms, and as their wedding day approached he was aware of increasing dismay within himself. He was thankful, however, that someone had made her see sense and she was no longer decking herself out like a prune-faced spinster. It gave him sardonic pleasure to watch the bemused expressions on his relatives' faces when they were introduced to Melissa. All his family, presently domiciled in various places around Baton Rouge, seemed to be bewitched by her dazzling smile and lissome form. Leonie, having arrived with Morgan two days before the wedding, was entranced.
Rushing up to him after meeting Melissa for the first time, Leonie flashed him a radiant grin and murmured, "See, mon ami! I told you that all you lacked was a wife. And, Dominic—she is lovely! Just what I would have wished for you." There was a mischievous glint in her green eyes as she added, "And I am most happy to see that she does not dote on you! It would be ruinous for you to marry a woman who thought your every whim was law."
Dominic had hoped that Leonie would not notice that Melissa did not seem to care overmuch for his company, but trust his irrepressible sister-in-law to put her finger on the sore part. Slightly nettled, he muttered, "A biddable wife would bore me, Leonie, you know that." With heartfelt certainty, he said, "And Melissa will never bore me, of that I am positive." He wouldn't add that he was very much afraid that she would exasperate, enrage and keep him thoroughly captivated.
And he was captivated. She might treat him with indifference, but that didn't stop him from gazing possessively at her or from remembering distinctly the sweetness of her mouth or the intoxicating softness of her body. It was the haunting memory of the two times that he had kissed her that had given him comfort during the passing weeks and enabled him to view his approaching wedding day, if not with delight, at least with anticipation for the night which would follow it. Privately he could wish that there was more than physical desire which bound him to Melissa, but if desire was all they shared, then he fully intended to take complete advantage of it. With that in mind, he had already made several arrangements which he hoped would please his wayward bride.
Later that night he contemplated Melissa's reaction to the sumptuous bed which he had commissioned for their bedroom at Thousand Oaks. He'd had to send to Natchez for his requirements, and the bed and its attendant furnishings had not yet arrived at the plantation before he had to return to Baton Rouge; but thinking of it, of the wide, down-filled mattress, of the rich sensuousness of the gold silk hangings which surrounded it, and picturing Melissa lying naked in the middle of the bed, Dominic felt his entire body convulse with desire. He might not wish to marry, but his body burned with an aching desire to possess her—and that, he told himself cynically, was nearly worth putting his head into the parson's mousetrap.
The day before the wedding finally arrived. All the guests had been assembled and were presently staying with various friends and neighbors of the Seymours and the Manchesters. Even the meager public accommodations had been commandeered by the friends and relatives of the bridal pair, and there was hardly anyone up and down the river between Natchez and New Orleans who didn't know that on the morrow Dominic Slade would take Melissa Seymour as his bride.
Julius Latimer certainly knew of it—he could not have known of it since receiving both Melissa's note and his money. And then there was the fact that he and his sister had been invited to attend the reception honoring the newlyweds that would be held at Oak Hollow after the wedding at Willowglen. Melissa would have preferred for him not to have been invited, but in the small, close-knit society of the river towns, it was impossible to voice an objection without explaining why. She had consoled herself with the knowledge that she had no need to fear him any longer, and surely she could force herself to meet him in polite company.
That last afternoon before the wedding, Dominic made arrangements to take Melissa for a ride, and she pushed any thought of Latimer aside. Dominic acted mysterious, saying with a faint smile that he had a surprise for her. Zachary grinned and Melissa suspected that her brother knew exactly what the "surprise" was. She wasn't the least interested in any surprises and, more importantly, she wasn't about to go anywhere alone with Dominic Slade. To Dominic's frustration, she turned what he had hoped would be a private affair into something more public by inviting Morgan and Leonie, Royce and Zachary to accompany them. It was while the two ladies were waiting on the gallery for the men to come with the horses that Latimer chose to intrude once more into Melissa's life. A second note from him arrived just then.
Melissa excused herself from Leonie and went to the end of the long gallery to read Latimer's missive in relative privacy.
My dear Melissa,
Latimer wrote, you cannot imagine my heartache and dismay when I received word of your impending marriage to Dominic Slade. I had thought to keep silent, but I cannot! I know now that my offer to you was misguided and crude, and I apologize humbly for my actions, but was a month or two of my company worth selling yourself for life to a blackguard like Slade?
I, at least, was honest with you about my intentions, wrong though they were, but can you say the same for him? He is not to be trusted—there are things I could tell you about him that would cause my regrettable actions to seem like a schoolboy prank! If you doubt me—and I would not blame you if you did—talk to my sister. Sh
e knows what he is, and she has great fears for you. Once she fell for his spurious charms, and she knows to her cost that he is a vile seducer and a trifler of affections. I repeat, he is not to be trusted.
It pains me to tell you this, but you must be on your guard with him at all times or you will be like my poor, deluded sister, who, even knowing that he is a bounder and a clever schemer, still yearns for him. And worse, he knows it and continues to play upon her ill-advised affection for him. (He visited with her just yesterday at the plantation where we are staying. I find it curious that he chose to call at a time when I was away and unable to deny him my sister's company.) It is not pleasant for me to write to you of this, but if I can prevent you from falling under his wicked spell, then it shall be worth whatever shame I shall suffer for it.
I could have wished that things would have been different for us, but please believe me, Melissa, when I say that I do care deeply for you and that I hope, in spite of all that has passed between us, that you will consider me your friend and know that I sincerely hope that should you ever need help, you will turn to me. I may have failed you lamentably by what I realize now was a dishonorable offer on my part, but I shall not fail you in the future. And if you go ahead with this misalliance, I know in my heart that someday you will need my help and that I will be able to redeem myself by proving to you that I will stand by you in your hour of need.
Latimer.
Crumpling the letter in her hand, Melissa stared blindly out over the green expanse of lawn, wishing she had not read Latimer's words. She mistrusted him, she suspected that much of what he wrote was a tissue of lies, but she could not forget his warnings. A bitter laugh escaped her. There wasn't, as far as she could see, much difference between Latimer and Dominic, and she thought it ironic that Latimer should warn her against the man she was to marry on the morrow. There was little in Latimer's letter that she did not already know. Hadn't Josh, when he had first told her of Dominic's presence in the neighborhood, warned her about him? But the information about Dominic's past relationship and yesterday's visit with Deborah, Latimer's sister, disturbed Melissa. For one mad moment she was eaten alive with jealousy, and it was only the sound of the approaching horses and men that brought her back to reality.
Composing herself with a struggle, Melissa ripped the letter into shreds, thinking that she would like to do the same to Dominic's heart. Scattering the scraps, she walked toward Leonie and the others. If she had thought Latimer's letter ironic, that was nothing to the caustic amusement she felt when Dominic's surprise was revealed. By some evil coincidence, he had bought as a wedding present for her the very cottage Latimer had proposed as a love nest.
As the others exclaimed and commented on the pretty little building—newly painted and refurbished for the bride—Melissa stood staring blankly at it. Thinking his bride-to-be was overcome with delight, Dominic said softly as he stood near her, "I know that we will come often to visit your brother, and I thought that you might like to have your own place to stay. It is small but very comfortable, and if you like, in the future we can make some additions to it."
Diffidently he added, "There are five hundred acres with it, and I have hired some men to start construction of a stable and some paddocks—we may decide to keep some of our horses here at certain times."
When Melissa remained silent, Dominic glanced around, and seeing that the others were already climbing up the steps that led to the small gallery, he caught her shoulders between his strong fingers. "The cottage and the land are yours, Melissa. They are my gift to you."
His words startled her and she stared at him, her black-lashed, golden-brown eyes widening in astonishment. It was the first time that she had looked directly at him since the night at the tavern, and Dominic felt himself drowning in the mysterious depths of her lovely eyes. His gaze dropped to her mouth, and remembering its warmth and sweetness, he muttered, "We will stay here tomorrow night after the wedding...."
Chapter 13
Melissa was never certain how she kept from laughing hysterically. It seemed that this place, this quaint little cottage with its rose-covered gallery, was destined to be the site of her loss of innocence, and it gave her no comfort at all to realize that it would be Dominic, as her husband, who initiated her into womanhood rather than Latimer, as her so-called protector. For one wild moment she considered telling Dominic why she was not thrilled with his choice of a wedding gift, but common sense, something Melissa felt strongly she had been displaying a decided lack of lately, exerted itself and she merely flashed Dominic a false smile.
Knowing that something more was expected of her, she kept the smile pasted on her lips and said brightly, "How very thoughtful of you! Thank you!" She searched desperately for something more to add to what was undoubtedly meager thanks for such a munificent and unexpected gift, but her brain seemed to have frozen, his statement about tomorrow night blotting out all else. The sensuous expression in Dominic's eyes as he continued to stare at her mouth made Melissa feel weak. To her horror she could feel her breasts tingling with anticipation of his lips on her nipples, and she was conscious of a sudden tremor of insistent desire fluttering low in her abdomen. Helplessly she swayed nearer to him, her lips unconsciously parting, and her pulse leaped as his hands tightened on her shoulders and the gray eyes darkened with passion....
"Dominic!" Leonie called out from the shade of the gallery. "Aren't you going to even let Melissa see the inside of the house before tomorrow?"
As if stung, Melissa jerked away from Dominic, and Dominic, murderous thoughts concerning his favorite sister-in-law sliding through his mind, pivoted to face Leonie. A tight smile on his lips, he said darkly, "Someday, Leonie, I am going to strangle you—especially if you don't cultivate a bit more tact!"
A saucy grin on her face, Leonie said airily, "Melissa, don't pay him any heed. He is always threatening me, but as you can see, I have survived—and prospered wonderfully!" She turned a limpid gaze on Dominic's handsome features and added dulcetly, "Please, dear Dominic, may we see the interior?"
A reluctant laugh came from Dominic, and as the moment of intimacy with Melissa was shattered, he took her arm and escorted her toward the cottage. "I hope you approve of what I have done. There wasn't much time, but I left comprehensive instructions about what I wanted while I was gone. If there is anything that you don't like, we can always change it later." He cast Melissa a bone-melting smile. "I believe that it will prove to be sufficient for our needs, though."
Still flustered by her reaction to him, Melissa kept her face averted and mumbled some reply. She hoped it made sense—certainly nothing else did these days.
The interior of the cottage was delightful, but Melissa was so acutely conscious of the fact that she would share this house with Dominic tomorrow night that she didn't really remember much of what she saw. She knew the front parlor was quite spacious considering the small size of the building, and she vaguely remembered some rooms with cream-colored walls and window hangings of pale rose, but of the downstairs furnishings she couldn't recall a single item. In addition to the parlor, there was a decent-size dining room, a small breakfast room and an even smaller room that could be used as an office, and upstairs were two comfortably large bedrooms connected by a tiny dressing room. It was the bedrooms that attracted her attention most. Alone in her bed that night at Willowglen, she could see in clear detail the carved rosewood bed with its deep lavender satin coverlet, and remembered Dominic's voice saying huskily, "This will be your room and bed... I hope you will allow me to share it with you... frequently."
In the darkness of her room, Melissa realized that this was the last time she would ever sleep here... alone. Her breath caught painfully in her chest. Tomorrow and for all the tomorrows that would come she would be Dominic Slade's wife; she would share a bed with him for the rest of her life. She was aghast at how much that knowledge excited her. Aghast and furious. Her fists clenched at her sides, and she stared at the ceiling. He must never guess, she
thought feverishly, at the tumult his touch aroused within her. No matter if there were times that her body betrayed her, she must always be on her guard and never let him see into her foolish heart. Almost with relief she turned her thoughts to Latimer's letter. For the first time she wished she hadn't destroyed it, wished she had it in her hands right now so that she could read and reread the ugly words that he had written about the man she was to marry.
Though she tried to believe evil of Dominic, she found it hard going, particularly when she remembered how kind he had been to Zachary, and of course, there was the cottage.... How many men, even those besottedly in love, would present their brides with such a tasteful little house and five hundred acres? And then there was Folly. Dominic had been fair about his purchase of the stallion, even when their coming marriage would seem to make his offer unnecessary.
Angry with herself for entertaining charitable thoughts about Dominic Slade, Melissa scowled. It was his unfair charm, she decided darkly. And his laughing eyes. And that mocking mouth and... Gritting her teeth, she made herself remember some of the nastier things that Latimer had written about him. Such as the way Dominic was still working his perfidious charm on Deborah, even when he was betrothed to another woman. Uncle Josh's early comments about him floated through her brain, and with a muffled groan she sat up.
There was no use pretending. Despite all she knew about him, Dominic Slade fascinated her as no other man ever had, but much worse, in her opinion, was that his slightest touch, even though she knew he was a womanizer, could fill her with all sorts of wild longings. She must protect herself, must remember that he was not as he appeared; and she must guard herself against falling under his spell—she was not going to be enslaved like poor Deborah! Oh, no! She was going to show Mr. Slade that not all women were such silly susceptible creatures as foolish Deborah.
Midnight Masquerade Page 19
