Mason continued to frown at her thoughtfully, as if he were not understanding what she had said.
Humiliation, frustration, and anxiety caused Cassidy to release her hold on his trousers. She stood, turned from him, walked to the hearth, and stood before the fire, staring into the orange and yellow flames burning warm in the hearth. Not having the will left her to be strong, she buried her face in her hands and let the tears fall freely from her eyes. She’d been withholding them all day, as she did every day, and now, having confessed her fears to Mason, she could let them release.
After a moment, she raised her head and gazed once more into the fire. Hugging herself, she rubbed her own arms with her hands because, for some reason, though the fire burned hot before her, she felt cold and uncomfortable. The tears continued to roll down her cheeks profusely, and she closed her eyes for a moment, trying to block from her sight the thought of Mason Carlisle sitting not far behind her, disbelieving—most likely thinking he had been betrothed to a madwoman. But his face only came more clearly to her in her mind’s eyes, and she felt sickened, weak, and alone.
“I again ask, why you have kept this from me?” he asked, breaking the long silence between them.
Cassidy startled but did not turn to face him, for she was weeping all the more intensely and did not wish him to view it any longer. Quietly she responded, “What are you thinking, sir? That I am paranoid? Mad?” she muttered.
“No,” he answered, and she whirled around to face him, caring not for the moisture on her cheeks as she felt him touch her shoulder. “You again think me weak-minded and pompous,” he accused, his eyes traveling thoroughly over her tear-stained face.
“No,” she stammered, wiping at the tears furiously.
“Then why have you kept this from me?” he shouted. “Why haven’t you come to me long before now with this information?”
“Because…because…”
“Because you have no faith in me. You think me an ignoramus, an arrogant fool like every other man in our social circle. Blast it, girl! It must needs be that I know these things before I can help you—before I can endeavor to discover from whence this mischief comes.” Suddenly, unexpectedly, and causing Cassidy utter astonishment, Mason dropped on his knees before her. “What do you want from me?” he bellowed.
“Nothing! Nothing! I have asked nothing of you!” She paused, unable to control her sobbing, and Mason dropped his head for a moment before looking up at her again. “I did not ask you to fulfill your father’s demands. I did not ask you to bring me here. I asked only for your fidelity. I’ve not even asked for your time, your attentions. Nothing have I asked of you. And nothing will I!”
She started to leave him but took only one single step to pass him before his hands were at her waist firmly again. He still knelt before her, gazing frustratedly up at her.
“Let go of me!” she cried out.
But he did not release her—only spoke firmly. “Understand this,” he began. “I belong to you. I am yours, though we are not yet married. Anything you need, anything you want will come from me. And I will give it willingly and without resentment. If you thirst, you will drink from my wells. If you hunger, my fields will feed you. My money will clothe and shelter you. My mind, intelligence, and what little wit I possess will entertain you. My body will protect you as well as comfort you. And all this will I provide without remorse, without resentment or wish for something or someone else. These things I’ve already told you. But I cannot, as yet, read your thoughts completely. If you’re anxious, you must tell me. If you crave attention, you must tell me. If you’re in need of protection or anything else…you must tell me what that need is and what I can provide to satisfy it.” The tears still poured from her eyes. “Do you believe me? Whether you believe I do these things out of duty or of desire…it’s now that you must choose whether to believe that what I’ve promised is true.”
Cassidy was certain that her heart was being torn in two. The pain within her bosom was excruciating. Oh, how she wished she could simply say to him, It is your arms about me that would serve me most this moment. It is your kiss of reassurance that you do not despise me that would help me to find strength. But how could she speak it? How could she ask this of him? She could not ask him to calm her fears. How then could she ask him to sit and converse with her? How could she ask for something so grand as affectionate comfort from him? “I…I cannot speak everything to you, Mason. Some things I cannot ask for aloud. I cannot.”
“So you beg of Ellis?” he asked. “Can Ellis better serve you in this house? Will Ellis be more able to ascertain from whence this threatening behavior derives? This is my dominion, Miss Shea. Not his. It will be me that will know where to look…or whom to suspect.”
He looked angry for a moment, and Cassidy reached down, trying to push his hands from her waist, but he only tightened his grasp and continued angrily, “Is it that you deem me incapable of protecting you?”
“No. No, of course not,” Cassidy sobbed.
His fingers tightened at her waist as his thumbs traced the contours of her lowest ribs slowly. It was quite disturbing for varying reasons. Not only did the intense pressure of his hands to her waist cause discomfort, but it also seemed far too familiar an act. She put her hands at his shoulders and strove to urge him to release her by pushing on them. Then, abruptly, he did release her, rose slowly to his feet, ran one hand through his hair, and chuckled lowly.
“What night has this been then, girl? Answer me that. In the course of the past…minutes…we have flirted through poetry, argued over fictional lovers, heard confessions of terror, and I’ve had nearly every shred of self-confidence stripped from me as a man being readied for flogging.” He shook his head, an odd smile of defeat on his face. “We are to be married, Cassidy!” he shouted. “We shall live no less than fifty years in each other’s company. How miserable will it be if you cannot even trust me to be your champion in time of need?”
Cassidy was all the more unnerved. Never had she seen him in such a state of confusion and frustration.
“It is expedient that you learn to trust me, Cassidy. What things must we face in the years to come? What things that are all the more difficult than these things of late? And if you are not to trust me, then…” He merely shook his head as finish to his meaning.
Cassidy’s emotions were a torrent of confusion. She felt frightened, saddened, guilty.
And Mason’s next actions were completely unexpected. He exclaimed in a whisper, taking her waist in his hands once more, “Your body will nurture my children. Mine and yours! If you cannot even trust me with your own safety and security…however will they learn to?”
“Do not speak so,” Cassidy cried out, struggling in his grasp.
“Should they go through life thinking me incapable as well?” he asked her, lowering his voice.
“I do not think you incapable,” she corrected him. She continued to struggle, for somehow his hands in their current endeavor to hold her were oddly delightful. Oddly reassuring. “Please,” she begged then. “Please. Your touch is too familiar.”
“Familiar how?” he asked. “Familiar in that it is too intimate…the way I hold you now, in that we are not yet married? Or familiar in that my touch is well-known and simultaneously pleasing to you?”
Cassidy buried her face in her hands. “Please, Mason. Please. Just…just help me. Please. No more debating.”
He released her and stood, looking at her somberly. “Very well. I will, of course, investigate this…this torment to you. Until I discover the source of this harassment, Mathias will remain with you in your chamber each night as protection for you, which will provide some peace of mind for both of us.”
Cassidy nodded and, looking to him gratefully, said, “He will be a comfort. I thank you.”
“I’ll do all that I can. But you must tell me what you need, Cassidy. I cannot yet read your thoughts.”
He paused as if waiting for her to speak to him, to confess fu
rther need of him somehow. Yet she could not. How could she? He still did what he did for her out of duty, and affection could not be borne of duty.
“I…I can say no more to you, Mason,” she stammered.
He drew in a deep breath and whispered, “Then I’ll have to depend on my own instincts and pray that I have read the truth of what is needed now…here at this moment and in this room. I can only tell you that I let my instincts guide me now by what I have seen in your eyes.”
Almost apprehensively, he reached forth, gathering her slowly into the powerful comfort of his embrace. Cassidy’s body was tense, her arms tight at her chest.
“You cannot expect to draw strength from comfort if you’re not willing to accept it,” he whispered. Cassidy then gave in to her own need for security and let her arms slip around his body, completing the mutual embrace.
“It is a sad state to find oneself in, is it not?” he said quietly. “To find one’s only comforter to be one’s worst of enemies.” He chuckled at the irony of his own words. “I wonder,” he continued, “had you and I been mere strangers here met along the cliffs’ path one day…would there be such animosity between us then? Perhaps we would have liked each other had it not been forced that we endure one another.”
Cassidy tried to push herself from his arms at once. His stinging words seemed to verify her belief that he did not like her but only endured her. Mason, however, chuckled and held her more tightly against him.
“You put far too literal a meaning to every sentence that fumbles from my lips, Bliss.” Leaning back to look down into her face, though he still held her tightly, he said, “You would not be thus inclined toward me if you had only complete dislike for me.” Cassidy felt her cheeks go crimson, and she struggled once more. “And you must remember that the likewise is true of me.” Cassidy ceased her struggling and looked up at him, puzzled. “For…would it be so that my mouth should water for want of yours if I did not like you?” Cassidy searched his eyes and found no deception in his expression, nor in the truth of his eyes.
“Why can you not speak it simply?” she asked bluntly. If he truly had affection for her, then why could he not simply tell her?
He grinned. “Why can I not tell you that I like you?” Cassidy nodded. “For the same reasons you cannot simply tell me, I suspect.”
“No,” Cassidy corrected almost too emphatically, for she could not tell him of her love for him for fear of worsening heartache that already was almost unendurable.
“Pride, then. I admit it. Pride,” he stated unexpectedly. “‘Can you believe it?’ they will say. The gossips. ‘It is unimaginable! Mason Carlisle actually harbors affection for the girl his father forced him to marry!’” His smile faded as he looked at her. “Pride. The same as you.” Then he tightened his embrace once more.
Cassidy let her head rest against his shoulder, and she felt her anxieties begin to fade in the warm security of his embrace. “I am…I am sorry,” she whispered the apology. “I’m sorry for eavesdropping on your conversation with Gabrielle. It was deeply lacking virtue.”
“The virtues I lack are too many to enumerate accurately,” he mumbled. “I’m only sorry that you were left with an impression that she meant far more to me than she did.” Still he held her, and she began to feel as if she should escape, release him from his duty to comfort her. She tried to push herself from his arms, but he held fast to her. “You shall remain as this with me until you understand that I will protect you, comfort you, as well as my crippled mannerisms can.” He was silent a few moments, and she again relaxed in his arms. “Can we say then,” he began, “can we say that we have become friends in a manner, Bliss?”
Cassidy winced at his well-intended words, for she longed for so much more from him than mere friendship. “Yes,” she whispered.
“And when you, one day, make to seduce me…we will become somewhat more than friends.” Cassidy gasped and tried to pull away, but he would not allow her to do so. He only stood looking greatly fatigued and somewhat amused at her expression. “And do not doubt it for a moment…for you could corrupt me with far less effort than you imagine, pudding.”
“Whatever inspires you to say such preposterous things?” she asked, lessening her struggle, for, truly, in his arms was where she wished to remain. Forever, in fact.
“Trust me, Miss Shea…you’re better left in ignorance in that matter,” he chuckled. “Now,” he began again, “do you remember me telling you that I would one day teach you to dance?”
“I’ve had full the proper instruction necessary, sir,” she answered, though her body began to tremble slightly at the remembrance of being held in his arms at their engagement ball. Someday I shall show you the only enjoyable way to dance, he had told her. Remind me to teach you to dance. She had known at the time that his words were insinuative. How so she was not certain. But here, in the seclusion of the library, she indeed began to tremble slightly.
“Here now,” he began, releasing her, “let us dance.”
“But you do not like to dance, as I remember,” she reminded him.
“I do not like to dance as society demands. As propriety demands. Now then, strike the stance,” he ordered.
Cassidy raised her right hand in readiness for him to take it in his own and raised her left gracefully in the manner necessary for it to rest at his shoulder. She was curious. His flirtatious manner intrigued her beyond withstanding. Walking forward to her again, he indeed let her left hand rest at his shoulder but, taking her right hand in his for a moment, directed it to rest at his opposite shoulder. Taking her waist then, he pulled her body flush with his. So awkward was their proximity for her arms that it necessitated her arms going around his neck and then resting at his back.
“There is no music,” Cassidy told him frantically.
Her mind and body were quickly succumbing to her desire to stay forever near to him. To be owned by him. She knew that if he did not free her now, in another moment she would be enslaved to his will. The muscles in his chest, arms, and legs were solid and commanding as he held her. She could feel the warmth of his body through their clothing, and it only served to further bewitch her.
“Music is not necessary in this dance, Bliss,” he whispered provocatively.
She stiffened in his arms as she felt his lips at her neck. Ever so slightly, she felt his body begin to sway, urging hers to follow.
“You toy with me, sir,” she whispered, as a delighted mist filled her eyes. He said nothing, but as his lips brushed her neck once more, she felt him inhale deeply.
“‘Breathe breath of me,’” he quoted in a low intonation. “‘Perfumes on her skin so fair, of her sigh, the fragrance there.’” Cassidy tipped her head, forcing his mouth from her neck. It was too torturous to feel his kiss there, to crave his lips with her own, and to have him deny her again. But his eyes met hers, and as his hands left her waist and took her face firmly, he spoke, “You wear the scent of heaven.” He kissed the corner of her mouth lingeringly, yet lightly, and she melted to him as he added, “And your mouth has the flavor of some fairy’s confection.”
His mouth was open, moist, and heated when, in the next moment, the playful tenderness was gone from him and in its place was the fierce, demanding, thirsty kiss that was Mason Carlisle’s. Cassidy’s mind was oblivious to everything…to the world. All that existed was Mason—his arms embracing her tightly, his kiss magnificently thorough and euphoric. The perfectly masculine aroma of him filling her lungs, the feel of the muscles in his back working to embrace her fully, and the abrasive caress of his whiskers as his jaw and mouth endeavored to weave a spell of rapture about her were sublime! One of his hands was lost in her hair; the gold of the bracelet he wore was cold against her neck, a blissful reminder that he was hers. If not in spirit or in heart, he did belong to her, and the knowledge gave her courage. Enough that she was able to let herself be lost in her own love for him, to return his kiss wholeheartedly as she had always dreamed of doing. After long momen
ts, his mouth left hers as he paused, letting his eyes study her face for a moment.
“You…you take my breath away, sir,” she whispered, suddenly embarrassed at her own unguarded willingness and unsettled under his scrutiny.
“I am your breath, Cassidy. You will learn to breathe me,” he answered.
Cassidy’s attention was drawn to his mouth, the perfect shape of his lips. Her lips parted, an unconscious invitation to her dream lover’s kiss. With a triumphant grin, Mason’s head descended toward hers again to meet her anxious lips with impassioned affection.
“Mason LaMont Carlisle!” Lady Carlisle exclaimed from the doorway. “How dare you? Making love to the girl just here! In the library? For anyone to see who should simply happen by?”
Gasping and immediately blushing crimson, Cassidy struggled to escape Mason’s embrace, and he let her go, save he put one hand to her cheek, resting his thumb on her lips for a moment before turning to address his mother.
“I have simply kissed her, Mother, as you yourself have instructed me to do on so many occasions,” he stated.
“I am not averse to the kiss, son…and well you know it! It is the lack of privacy that concerns me. Your skills in seduction are no doubt at least as powerful as your father’s were at your age, and knowing a woman’s inability to resist them, I will not have you giving anyone reason to doubt the validity of Cassidy’s good reputation.” Lady Carlisle fanned herself nervously with her hand, obviously uncomfortable about having to reprimand her son about such an incident.
“Point taken, Mother,” Mason said, striding toward the door. “From now on I shall ravish Miss Shea only in the privacy of her bedchamber…or mine.” With a nod of triumph to his mother, whose delicate mouth gaped open in astonishment, he retreated.
“Milady…I…” Cassidy began.
“Now, now, dove. No worry. I simply have to reprimand him. Propriety demands it! At the same time, do not think I truly intend to deprive you of his affections,” the lady said with a wink. “You should retire, my darling. It has been a long day, and I have received word that your brother will arrive tomorrow for a brief visit. You will want to be well rested so you can lovingly banter with him, will you not?”
Shackles of Honor Page 30
