For now I intend to enjoy a glass of wine and a quiet moment before the fire.”
She returned to him, a single glass of wine in her hand. Her gaze rose to his face as she extended it.
Offering her a smile laced with mischief, he unbuttoned the neck of his shirt exposing his throat and at its base a dark V of hair. “Will you not join me?”
“I do not care for wine.” She wandered to the small dressing table to pick up her brush and began to run it through her hair. She watched surreptitiously as he settled in a chair before the fire and, stretching out his long legs, propped his feet on a small padded stool. A flash of memory came unbidden of how he had looked trapped in that dark, dank chamber beneath the gray stone of the prison. She remembered the marks upon the wall above the bed tallying the days he spent there and her throat grew suddenly tight with emotion. How he must have hated it.
“Clarisse had the dressing table moved in this afternoon. Do you like it?”
She nodded, touched by the other woman’s thoughtfulness. “Yes, I do.”
“What do you care to drink, Katherine? A husband must know his wife’s taste in all things from clothing to her choice of drinks.”
A husband, a wife. Those words alone brought a jittery feeling to the pit of her stomach. “I prefer tea to most everything else. On occasion, I drink a glass of sherry before dinner.” She fought the compulsion to stare at him. His masculine features held an appeal she couldn’t hope to deny. ”And you?” Her tongue felt thick and clumsy.
“I prefer coffee at the morning meal, water, if it’s pure, a fine wine at dinner, as well as brandy, and port on occasion.”
Worried, she bit her lip. Her father had been violent on occasion when drinking. She did not relish being subjected to the same treatment by her temporary husband. The clearness of his pale blue eyes and the strength of his jaw eased her anxiety. The light flirted with the cleft in his chin and she wondered if the tip of
her finger would fit the indentation.
“Won’t you sit before the fire with me?” He indicated the empty chair before the fire.
She had been running scared ever since he had entered the room and he had done nothing to inspire her behavior. Her own thoughts had done that. Chiding herself on her cowardice, she set aside the brush and crossed the space between them to take the offered seat.
He placed the wine glass on the small table between them and lacing his fingers, rested his hands atop his flat stomach. His blue gaze settled on her. “Thus far, no one knows of my imprisonment because Lord Rudman doesn’t wish his wife to know of it. That could change. It will affect you adversely as well should it happen.” His concern for her social standing had guilt tweaking her conscience, and she looked away with a shrug. “I am not overly concerned it will happen, Captain.
One whisper to Lady Rudman of the truth, and she’ll make Lord Rudman’s life a misery. Besides, he will eventually receive whatever punishment he deserves for his actions.”
A slow smile tilted his lips. “It’s certain he’ll more than once rue the day he met her, if he hasn’t already.” She couldn’t resist probing his feelings for Jacqueline Rudman. “As much as you have?”
“More. It’s he, who must live with her for the rest of his days. My sentence lasted less than three months.” His gaze followed the movement of her fingers as she manipulated the thick strands of hair braiding it. “It’s a comfort knowing I have a possessive wife who doesn’t wish to share my attentions.”
Remembering the woman’s bold behavior brought a quick flash of anger. She had behaved as a common trollop and still retained her social standing unscathed, while Katherine, who had been attacked, was branded a social pariah.
When she remained silent he said, “Jacqueline is used to getting what she wants. I didn’t encourage her.”
“Perhaps not today, but it was obvious you had been
— acquainted before. You did not warn me of that when last we spoke.”
“I had little opportunity to send greetings from my
cell in the last fortnight.”
Her fingers stilled at the bitterness that tinged his words. Why had Edward done that? Surely, he knew it would only cause more strife between her and Matthew.
Or had that been his intention? “I was not aware you had not been released until just after the wedding. Had I known, I would have tried to persuade Edward to make it so.” She held the end of the braid then pulled a ribbon from her pocket.
He dropped his feet from the stool and rose from his seat in one swift, graceful movement. Her heart skipped a beat, and she shrank back as he braced his hands upon the arms of her chair and loomed over her, his face close to hers. “I didn’t appreciate having the promise of freedom dangled before me then, without warning or explanation, having it jerked away.” He plucked the ribbon from between her fingers, but didn’t withdraw immediately.
Slowly, deliberately, he studied each feature of her face, brow, cheek, nose, and mouth. Her stomach did a long slow roll at the look on his face. His attention settled on her lips for such a long moment of contemplation, she struggled to suppress the nervous desire to moisten them.
His wine laced breath feathered warm against her face to mingle with his musky male scent. For a moment, she thought he might kiss her again. When he straightened and took a step back, she didn’t know whether to feel relief or disappointment
A long silent moment passed as she struggled to recover. She wondered at how easily he inspired such a jumble of feelings. “It was needlessly cruel.” Her voice came out husky, and she cleared her throat. “But I did not have anything to do with your remaining in jail.” It would do no good to mention the letters she had sent since he obviously had not received them. That too was probably her uncle’s doing.
A scowl darkened his features as he lowered his tall frame back into the chair, his movements impatient.
“Bradley won’t be coming this evening. You’ll have to act as my valet and help me remove my boots.” Her legs weak as jelly, she rose and stood before him and waited for him to extend his foot. Divesting him of his boots took only a moment, and she set the shoes beside
his chair.
“Bradley couldn’t do better.” The smile that tilted his lips displaced the frown that lingered about his features.
He caught the loosened braid dangling over her shoulder to hold her where she stood. “You’re very tempting in your wool robe, Mrs. Hamilton.” He caught the sash of her robe and with a jerk pulled her down into his lap.
Startled by the intimate feel of his hard muscular chest against her breasts and his thigh beneath her buttocks, she froze. The warmth he exuded through the linen of his shirt seeped into her hand. She fought the compulsion to lay her head against his shoulder. Would he put his arms around her and just hold her for a moment? Fearful of the desire, and how vulnerable it made her, her heart thundering against her ribs, and she attempted to rise.
Matthew’s arm tightened around her waist, and he gripped her arm. “I mean to talk to you, Katherine. It’s more difficult for someone to avoid telling the truth while looking you in the eye.”
Breathing hard, she ceased to struggle. The teasing seducer was gone. His gaze focused on her intently, his jaw stern and set.
Her heart sank. He knew! Someone had told him and he had just been testing her.
Matthew studied Katherine’s wary expression and felt the tension in the way she held herself. Her attempts at using formality to hold him at bay both amused and irritated him. He asked a question that had been running through his mind since they first met. “Why did you choose to marry me?”
“You needed your freedom as badly as I did mine.
You did not want to wed me anymore than I did you. And you were not interested in any reward you might gain from the marriage because you had resources of your own.”
“You learned all that from one short conversation?”
“I did not hear all of it.” Her violet gaze moved back to focus
upon him. “But I did hear what you said about not wanting another wife. I felt certain, since you were so adamant, you would avoid doing anything to make the marriage a permanent one.”
He plucked a reddish curl from her shoulder and twisted it about his finger, admiring the burnished highlights. Her assumption they would be able to annul the marriage was wrong. Even the fact that he had been coerced before witnesses was not grounds for annulment.
What would she do when she learned they were truly bound?
His hand found a place to rest against her hip as he shifted her closer. Following her visit to his cell, the light floral scent that clung to her hair and skin had haunted his dreams for days. He breathed it in now and fought the urge to bury his face in the heavy mass of coppery hair close to his face.
It had been some time since he had held a woman in his arms. The soft womanly feel of her beneath his touch had him growing hard, his need stirring to insistent life.
Her eyes, the color of pansies, rose to his face then skittered away. She turned her graceful profile to him, the line of forehead, nose, and chin etched by the fire’s light.
“I’ve asked Talbot to look over the will and help Edward settle the estate.”
She stiffened and she searched his face. “Why would you do that?”
His jaw grew tight. “Have you thought that perhaps one of the reasons Edward was so eager to marry you to someone leaving the country was to cheat you of your inheritance?”
“He is the only male left in line for the title.”
“But not necessarily everything else. Most fathers provide for their children.”
Bitterness gave her voice an edge. “Not necessarily.
Most fathers marry their daughters off, so they do not have to provide for them, someone else does.” His look of surprise must have been apparent for she hastened to add, “Edward said it was my mother’s brother who left me a small inheritance.”
“Talbot will see that you’re inheritance is secured.
And if he is an annoyance to Edward in the process—it won’t concern me.”
She laughed, her look of concern relaxing.
“What have you in store for Lord Rudman?” she asked.
“Nothing thus far, but should an opportunity present itself…”
“I hope that, before you leave England, such an opportunity arises.”
The rapport between them restored, Matthew felt a vague regret in disturbing it, but he had to know if she had known all along they could not annul the marriage.
He’d had time to resign himself to the situation. Two frustrating weeks to try to look at the change in his marital status as a positive one—for his daughter at least.
“I’ve brought you a book from Talbot’s library.” An expression first of surprise then confusion crossed her face.
He offered her the leather bound volume at his elbow. “I’ve marked the pages I thought you would find most interesting.”
He rested a subtly protective hand against her hip as she bent her head to read the page, her lips slightly parted, her hair tucked behind her ear, her eyes intent upon the volume she cupped with one hand. Suddenly, the color began to leach from her skin.
“We can take everything slowly, Katherine.” She twisted away from him and rose to her feet. “Not bloody likely.” Her voice sounded choked and the book slid unheeded from her hand to land on the rug at their feet.
For a moment, Katherine couldn’t breathe. Panic had her heart drumming in her ears, and she crossed the room intent on escape. Her hand felt clumsy as she fumbled with the latch and wrenched at the door only to have it slam shut as he braced a hand against it from above hers.
Trapped. She was trapped. She thrust her elbow back into the hollow of his belly, and he grunted in pain as she swooped out from under his arm.
“You must calm yourself, Katherine,” he said, his tone soothing as he followed her to the bed.
Slipping a hand beneath the pillow, she grasped the butt of the pistol and withdrew it from its hiding place.
Cocking it, she thrust it squarely into his groin.
He froze.
“We are not doing this.” Her voice sounded husky around the knot of smothering rage lodged in her throat.
“How long have you known we could not annul the
marriage?”
His gaze slid downward to the gun then moved back up to her face. With studied care, he eased back from her.
“I suspected it from the beginning.” Resolve hardened within her. She would not be his wife. She would not be anyone’s wife. She kept the gun steady in its position. “Move back.”
“My father always told me never to point a loaded pistol at anyone lest you were prepared to fire it.” He stepped back, his movements slow and measured, his hands palm out.
“My brother once told me so as well.” She struggled not to allow her gaze to waver. “Back up.” When he hesitated she added, “I should hate to give you a lead ball for a wedding gift.”
A formidable scowl drew his black brows together. “If that’s a jest, I don’t find it amusing.”
“I do not find it so either,” she snapped, loosing some of the emotion that ricocheted through her. The flintlock wobbled and she steadied it with her other hand.
“Since when is it insulting for a husband to offer to take things slowly when initiating his wife.”
“You are not my husband. You will never be my husband.”
His look of speculation brought another surge of panic racing through her. Her legs felt numb with shock.
Why had she ever believed Edward? He had known what she wanted to hear and had fed her the lies a piece at a time. Why had she been fool enough to believe anything he said?
She tripped over the edge of the rug shoving the metal barrel against him with more intimate familiarity than she intended.
“Have a care where you place your feet, Madame. I’m rather attached to that part of my anatomy and don’t wish to be maimed by a careless shot.” She stifled an embarrassed moan and fought the urge to look down at the area where the gun pressed. “That would indeed insure a reason for annulment, would it not?” “You don’t need to do this, Katherine.” They reached the doorway of the dressing room.
“Yes, I do, Captain. I do not feel I can trust you to keep your distance since you have already resolved yourself to the situation instead of seeking out a solution to it.” She drew a deep breath to steady herself for her heart raced so she could hardly breathe, and she was close to tears. “Please step inside the dressing room.”
“And if I refuse?”
She swallowed and squared her shoulders. “I will have to shoot you then say it was an accident.” He studied her for a moment. “I’ve yet to force myself on a woman, Katherine.”
“I am certain you truly believe that.” His frown deepened as his gaze once again probed hers. “I’ll give you my word that I won’t touch you.”
“You already did, and you did not keep it.” She motioned him back with the pistol. “Please step inside the dressing room.”
With open reluctance, he stepped back over the threshold.
She closed the door and secured the lock. She leaned back against the portal, her legs shaking beneath her.
Instant tears burned her eyes and she swallowed back the sob that raced up her throat and begged to be released.
His deep voice sounded muffled by the door. “It has been nearly five months since I’ve slept in a real bed and the floor is not an inviting prospect.” She smothered the quick feeling of guilt. “I am truly sorry, but I won’t be trapped in a marriage I should grow to hate. And I refuse to be used at your whim like—like a piece of furniture. Tomorrow, we will find a solution.”
****
After an hour’s wait, the walls of the dressing room began to close in on Matthew. He rolled off the daybed to his feet and strode to the door to listen for any sound from without. Listening for an hour to Katherine’s muffled sobs had not been a pleasant exper
ience. Knowing she abhorred, to such an extent, even the idea of being married to him had been equally so. He knelt before the door and inserted the buttonhook into the lock. Jiggling the metal stem and twisting it, he heard the satisfying click of the mechanism releasing.
Rising to his feet, he rested his hand on the knob and
turned it gingerly. Katherine only had one shot. There might be a good chance she’d miss, if she fired.
He stood back against the wall to one side as he gave the door a gentle push. It swung open wide. Silence followed. Tensed to dive for the floor, he stepped through the portal. His gaze swept the room for any threat.
Katherine, dressed in a simple cotton shift, lay curled on her side on the bed, her woolen robe draped over her feet. The flintlock pistol, with which she had threatened him, rested on the bedside table within easy reach.
His stocking clad feet made little sound as he crept to the table and picked up the firearm. He didn’t relish being shot should she awaken.
His gaze fell on her features. The auburn crescents of her lashes appeared dark with moisture against the paleness of her skin and tear tracks marred her smooth cheeks. Her eyelids appeared red and puffy from crying, her pale pink lips pouting as a soft breath escaped from between them. The creamy perfection of her skin tempted him. He knew from experience it felt like warm silk.
His gaze trailed downward. The light muslin shift she wore followed the contours of her body like a lover’s hand. The fabric caressed the full, unfettered thrust of her breasts and tapered to a dainty waist and slender hips.
The folds of the garment, caught between her thighs, outlined the graceful shape of her legs. Matthew knew, in that moment, he had never seen anything quite as lovely as the woman who lay asleep before him. The liquid heat of desire raced down his body. He grew hard and aching with need. He found his hand outstretched, reaching for her before he caught back the betraying digits. His fingers curled into a fist, his mouth growing dry.
His eyes traced the classic perfection of her profile.
She had brought hope and beauty into his small dank prison cell. That alone would have made it difficult for him to keep his distance. Now he had seen her like this, knowing she was legally bound to him, it would be nearly impossible. He didn’t want a wife any more than she wanted to be one, but he’d had a fortnight to adjust to the situation. Having no choice had been a great qualifier in the process.
Captive Hearts Page 5
