“A promise,” he muttered, raising his head to look at her. His eyes were narrowed and showed his great fatigue. “A promise to you.”
“To me?” she asked.
“The promise to prove to you that I would want you even and especially if you were the last woman on earth, as you put it.”
Her mind was tired, but she did remember asking him to deny that he held no attraction to her. “I spoke in angered humiliation, sir. I…I…”
“The subject is too important, too intimate. Too much of your trust in me depends on your knowing that you can control me somehow.” Unexpectedly, he bent toward her, inhaling deeply of the fragrance at her neck. “Deny that to me, pudding. Deny to me that you want control of me. That you wish to hold the leash of Mason Carlisle, whom no one seems to be able to tame?”
“I do not wish to control you, sir,” she whispered, entranced by the feel of his breath on her neck. “I would not wish that.” She was truthful in her answer. Controlling his physical passions was not the way to own the man’s true heart. His hands slipped from her shoulders to find their place at her waist as he again pulled her closer to him.
“You lie, Miss Shea,” he breathed in a low whisper, his breath warm and enticing on her lips. His head bent, and he placed a lingering kiss on the shoulder that he’d only moments before caressed with his powerful hand. “So I confess it to you now, Cassidy.” He kissed her neck lightly several times, and Cassidy’s mind begged inwardly for his mouth to find her own. “I confess that it is a torture to me to have you walk into a room and have to restrain my touching you…to have you sleeping across the hall, in your own bed. When betrothal leaves…makes way for marriage between us…it will be no dismal chore to take you into mine, Cassidy…Bliss.” She did not miss the poignancy of his usage of her middle name.
She closed her eyes as he kissed her shoulder again and managed to whisper, “But that is merely lust.” She struggled frantically, and he simply released her gently.
“No. And if it were…would you rather I found you revolting?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“You’re such a liar, Bliss. I had no idea that you were lacking such an important virtue as honesty.” He grinned slightly again.
The tears again spilled from Cassidy’s eyes abruptly, and she buried her face in her hands, no longer concerned about the possibility of her bodice slipping away. “I’ve not the strength this night for our war of words, sir. Please, have mercy on me, on my feminine weakness, and leave me to the loneliness of the late hour.” She turned from him, letting her tears flow unfettered. Even when she felt his fingers fumbling with the buttons of her gown she did not cease her sobs. But in a moment, she realized his fingers labored to refasten the unfastened anchors.
When the last button was secure, she thrilled at the sound of his deep voice. “Forgive me, Miss Shea, but I’ve unfinished business. I’m a man. A man utterly frustrated for a fortnight upon being interrupted while laying claim to his…property.” He frowned, stumbling over his words in a very uncharacteristic manner, and Cassidy was distracted for a moment by his apparent mental agitation.
His words ceased, and his eyes softened as he looked at her. She felt his powerful hands at her waist as his head bent toward her. She closed her eyes tightly shut, for she surely could not endure his depriving her lips of his yet again. He pulled her body toward his until she was flush with him, and his hand left her waist as his arms embraced her loosely. He would kiss her shoulder again, she knew. She could feel his breath there, and she waited anxiously. But the moist kiss of his lips was elusive, and she thought she might scream if he did not soon kiss at least her neck. After long moments she realized that he was intentionally moving his head from her shoulder up the length of her neck, allowing his breath to caress her, but restricting his kiss, his lips to hovering just above her tingling skin.
“Quiet yourself, my pudding,” he whispered, his words barely audible. “Soothe your nerves, and enjoy conquering me.”
Cassidy struggled to inhale. She opened her eyes at feeling his breath leave her neck. He stood gazing down at her. His expression was not that of triumph at having obviously rendered her helpless in his arms. Rather it was that of deep understanding mingled with desire. Could it be? she wondered in that moment. Could it be that he truly wanted to taste of her lips as she so wretchedly wanted his? He raised a hand to her face, briefly caressing her self-despised beauty mark with his thumb just as he’d done before. He bent, kissing the spot lightly, obviously purposely missing her lips.
“Quiet your anxieties, Cassidy,” he urged again. “It will happen this time. Nothing will bar me from you tonight.” Once more he placed a lingering kiss on the mark as his thumb simultaneously caressed her lips.
In the next blissful instant, Cassidy tasted for the second time of Mason Carlisle’s magnificently rich kiss. His lips met hers tenderly at first, as they had the night she wore the red dress, and he kissed her lightly, yet lingeringly, several times in succession, pausing once to caress her lips softly with his thumb once more.
Frightened at her own desire for him, Cassidy pushed at his chest firmly, hoping to escape him before it was too late and she lost all resolve to resist him. Instantly, as if her touch had rendered him unable to restrain his own desires any longer, the feral kiss of heated passion erupted so rapidly and completely that it did, indeed, sweep away every thought of reality from Cassidy’s mind. Mason Carlisle was no less than flawlessly masterful in the kiss! His kiss was demanding and deep. Fierce and vigorous. Cassidy felt as if something in her bosom, in her very spirit, had been pent up and was trying to break free of her body. She couldn’t inhale an efficient breath. Her overwhelming delirium at having his kiss, her then internally admitted love for him, was preventing her from breathing.
His skin was smooth and heated, his muscles defined and solid, she noticed as she only briefly realized that somehow her hands had left her sides and were now lost in the fabulous experience of touching him so unimpaired. She admitted with personal assurance that this ability to weaken her, this skill at sending her into blissful euphoria, had always been lurking in her conscious estimation of him. It was evident in his eyes at times. In the fact he was awe-inspiringly attractive and accomplished at everything in life that he did.
She returned his kiss ardently, for she could not quench her thirst for him. Though his kiss was thorough, perfect, indescribably wonderful, she could not leave him as propriety demanded. Somehow she found her arms about his neck, her hands lost in the softness of his hair, and he cradled her powerfully and perfectly in his arms.
Once he broke from her, pausing to gaze into her eyes for a moment before his mouth took hers all the more intensely. Cassidy thought that, were she to pass from her present existence at that very moment, there could be no more joyous thing in life to linger on than the taste and feel of Mason’s kiss owning her mouth. It was a completely unraveling experience, for she could not kiss him well enough, thoroughly enough! There seemed no way to satisfy her craving for him.
With one powerful, almost painful kiss, he pulled away from her, taking her face between his strong hands. His breathing was quicker and his eyes intent on her as he whispered, “I should never have weakened toward you. All the more difficult now to…” His kiss was hers, fierce, demanding, with an intense finality. Then, releasing her and turning, he stormed from the room, slamming the door behind him.
Cassidy was left completely breathless! Dizzy! Weakened wholly! Using the bedpost as support, she sat slowly on the foot of her bed, unable—no, unwilling—to return to reality after the blissful moments of euphoric affection in Mason’s arms. The feel of his hair laced in her fingers, the scent of his cheek, the taste of his mouth, the strength of his embrace had left her body weak and trembling. Her lips still sensed the pressure of his sublime kisses, her body still bathed in the lingering warmth of him, and her eyes still beheld the vision of his brutal masculinity, his flawless features. Oh, how magnificently ha
ndsome he was! How viciously attractive! How powerful, capable, and strong! How competent at completely enrapturing her being.
Putting her hands to her temples, she grimaced at the pain striking ferociously at her heart suddenly. How would she live a lifetime with this magnificent man and survive without his love? Without his attentions? How could she endure life’s trials without being able to seek the protection of his powerful arms about her, the security of his voice and smile, the comfort of his rapturous kiss? She wanted so desperately to be his confidante, his friend, his heart’s desire. How could she endure without these things returned upon her? And yet the smallest spark of hope began to glow within her bosom. For the first time, there seemed some sort of hope in having him. For he did not find fault enough in her to keep him at bay. He had held her, kissed her ravenously! He did not despise her deeply enough that he could not touch her. There was, at least, that.
Wearily, oh, so very wearily, she undressed, unfastening her dress once more and not even bothering to hang it up properly. She could take nothing more to her mind this night. Not mind nor body.
Chapter Eleven
“Cassidy! Oh, Miss Cassidy! What a grand sight to see last night!” It was Katie’s voice. As Cassidy struggled to open her eyes, so greatly did they still crave unconsciousness, Katie rambled on. “Your gown was by far the most elegant, the most beautiful there! And you looked no less perfect than a mysterious princess out of some fairy tale!” At last Cassidy’s eyes were able to force themselves slightly open, and she saw Katie busily straightening her chamber with Cassidy’s ball gown draped carefully over one arm as she bent to pick up her slippers.
“Oh, don’t do that, Katie. Please,” Cassidy mumbled as she sat up in bed.
“It’s my job, miss. Friends or not, I’m employed here, and I intend to stay that way. Still, Thomas says that Mr. Mason’s generosity may ensure that I won’t have to work for someone else forever.”
Gasping, Cassidy threw aside her quilts and leapt from her bed. “Oh my, no!” she exclaimed as she went to the basin and pitcher to freshen herself. Katie’s words had come like an earthshaking noise to her ears. In all the excitement, in all her anxiety of the day before, she had neglected the one important thing she had meant to do. She had not thanked Mason for his gift to her—his gift of Katie’s and her Tom’s happiness.
“What is it, Miss Cassidy?” Katie asked, alarmed at her mistress’s sudden haste.
“Nothing. I…I’ve just forgotten to do something very important. I…” Cassidy stammered as she rushed about her room readying herself.
“Your family is not yet awake, nor the master’s family either. You’ve no need to hurry. There’ll be a late breakfast for all, including the guests who have stayed over,” Katie informed her. “But, selfish as I am…I couldn’t wait to wake you and discuss last evening!”
“Mr. Mason? Has he been about this morning?” Cassidy asked, blotting carefully at her freshly washed face with a towel Katie handed her.
“He’s off and gone already, Miss Cassidy.”
“Gone?” Cassidy exclaimed, perfectly disappointed. “Gone where?”
“Business, miss. He left word that he would not return until just before dinner.”
“Oh.” She would have to wait to give him her thanks. There was no alternative.
The day was pleasant enough. There seemed to be a great and heavy burden lifted from Cassidy’s mind now that it had been announced to the world that she and Mason would wed. Somehow it helped to calm her to know that he did indeed seem intent on fulfilling his duty. Further, the remembrance of their intimate moments in her chamber following the ball lingered heavily in her mind, giving her heart moments of an odd fluttering and rather breathless sensation.
All talk between Cassidy and the others at Carlisle Manor seemed frivolous and uninteresting as she waited throughout the day—waited and waited impatiently for Mason’s return. How ungrateful he must think her! To grant her extreme request, so rapidly, but not to have received a word in thanks. Surely he would understand that the day had been chaotic! There were many people and things to attend to. Surely he would give her leave for being so seemingly ungrateful and assuming.
Cassidy walked in the gardens with her mother, barely able to keep up a conversation so preoccupied was she. She rode with Ellis in basic silence, for her thoughts were on Mason. She thought of her need to thank him, his kindness and compassion to Katie and Tom, his efforts to salvage her pride at the ball, and his ability to whisk her away from reality with a kiss.
Indeed, it wasn’t until all were seated for dinner in the grand dining hall that Mason returned to Carlisle Manor. He strode in, looking rather windblown, yet dashing and completely in control as ever.
“Mother,” he greeted, kissing his mother quickly on the cheek. “Forgive me. The business that had to be attended was more taxing than I had expected.”
“Well,” Devonna said, not at all pleased with his tardiness, “you’re here now. That is what is important.”
“Business is business and sometimes interferes,” Cassidy’s father stated in support of Mason.
“And I’ve not eaten today,” Mason grumbled.
“Well for pity’s sake, serve the beast, Syndle,” Devonna sighed. “Cassidy, may I tell you now—and please, my darling, do take this to heart—feed Mason! Whatever you do in life, wherever you are…be sure he is fed regularly. For he is just like his father and turns into a grumbling, temperamental fiend when he is hungry.”
“Do you think you could possibly find some redeeming quality in me to relate to the girl, Mother?” Mason’s manner was indeed short and angry.
“There you have it, Cassidy. There you have it. Hurry, Syndle. Serve the brute first before we all have our throats torn out!” Devonna teased.
It was unnerving to have Mason sitting in such proximity. Cassidy had sat near to him before, felt his presence with every sense that she owned. But this night, he was hers, officially. This night she knew what it was to be in his arms, the object of his physical attentions. And this night, she felt her cheeks burning every time she glanced at him. He, on the other hand, was intent on his meal. He did indeed appear fatigued. No doubt! He had kept a late hour the night before and rushed off to business at a distance before the dawn. Cassidy pitied him and imagined that he must be weary of all the company at present.
Dinner lingered, yet eventually everyone retired to the library. Still there had been no opportunity for Cassidy to thank Mason for his benevolent kindness in granting her request on Katie’s behalf. She began to grow more nervous and restless as the idle chatter ensued, thinking that she might take to screaming with frustration were she not able, and soon, to express to him her gratitude.
And then, as if all the irony in the world were in one room, Devonna suddenly stated, “I have to say it, Mason. My curiosity has, at last, gotten far the better of me. Whatever have you and Cassidy decided on as far as an exchange of engagement gifts is concerned?”
A feeling of incredible panic gripped Cassidy. In her confusion, her frustration, her anxiety of anticipating the ball—in her deep need to thank Mason for his quiet yet monumental gift to her—she had entirely neglected to inquire of her father concerning the gift for Mason that he had indicated was in his possession.
“I cannot speak for Miss Shea, Mother,” Mason answered. “But as for myself, I’m ready to reveal my gift at any given moment.”
Cassidy looked to him quickly. Did he mean to reveal their secret? How devastating it would be to Katie were her Thomas to find out the true source of information that led to his, however well-deserved, advancement.
“Why not now, Mason?” Devonna coaxed excitedly.
“As you wish, Mother,” Mason said, rising. “If you would all come up to my father’s room for a moment please.”
Ellis looked at Cassidy, winking reassuringly, as did her father.
“I did neglect to tell you, darling,” Ellis said quietly as he a
nd Cassidy followed closely behind Mason on the way to LaMont’s room, “you look splendid, as always, in that white gown.” Cassidy knew that Ellis, like herself, sensed the magnitude of what was about to happen and this was his way of trying to offer her reassurance.
“And you, dear brother, have made the situation of the cravat into an art once again,” she whispered a moment before they entered the room.
Again, Cassidy felt the melancholy of impending loss wash over her as they entered Lord Carlisle’s room. But upon seeing his handsome and smiling face staring out at her from the pillows of the enormous bed, her heart lightened.
“My dears,” he greeted in his great, deep voice. “All of you!” Cassidy did note that his voice did not sound as large as it should have—as it had in the past. “The moment is finally and at last upon us, is it not, Calvert?”
“Blessedly,” her father said, situating himself comfortably in a nearby chair, holding tightly to Cylia’s hand as she took a chair next to him.
“Yes, my darling,” Devonna confirmed, throwing herself against him at once. Cassidy thought it very tender and loving the way the great lady tossed propriety to the wind each time she entered her husband’s chamber. She cared not for the opinions of others as she nearly scrambled up into his bed, stretched out beside him, and toyed with his hair lovingly.
“Then come forward, my youngest dove,” LaMont instructed, motioning to Cassidy. Instantly Cassidy moved toward him and bent to place an affectionate kiss on his fevered forehead when he indicated to her that she should do so. “Mason,” he said. Mason, who had been standing in the back of the room, went to stand next to Cassidy and before his father as instructed. “All of you come closer,” he motioned to Cassidy’s family members. “I understand, my dove,” he said to Cassidy, “that you, being the sweetly humble and kindhearted dove you are, have not been able…well, actually, nearly refused to decide on an engagement gift.” Cassidy looked quickly to Mason, who stood tall and serious, looking down at his father. “Therefore, the boy has had to leave the task to his own methods. Heaven help you, my dove, for it escapes me what his imagination may have concocted.”
Shackles of Honor Page 25
