Salvation

by Smith, Carla Susan

  Two different individuals, each of whom had left their mark on her in different ways and for different reasons—it was no wonder she was crying. And now Rian was holding her in his arms, stroking her hair, offering comfort.

  “Catherine…I’m so sorry. I never meant to hurt you.”

  Feeling the warmth of his body against hers, his strong arms around her, his scent filling her nostrils, only made the pain that much sharper. She pulled her head away and looked up at him with red-rimmed eyes and lashes heavy with moisture.

  “Then why did you take Isabel to your bed that night?”

  Catherine had not meant to be so blunt. In truth, she hadn’t realized she had been thinking about Isabel, but the words tumbled from her lips before she could stop them, and now there was no turning back. He was a man of experience and he could have had Catherine that night. Surely he knew that? She would have gone willingly to his bed. Lord knows she’d offered herself to him, but he had refused her. The rejection had hurt then, and it still did. It was like a thorn in her flesh, one that had to be removed completely or else it would burrow deeper under her skin and fester.

  “Why take her and not me?” Catherine demanded in a tremulous whisper. “You said you wanted me…needed me. Was it a lie?”

  “No!” Rian shook his head vehemently and tightened his hold on her, but she struggled against him, so he let her go. Running his fingers through his thick hair, his face the picture of perfect misery, he struggled to find the words to ease her anger and hurt.

  Felicity had told him to be truthful, but how could he do so when the truth sounded to his own ears like nothing more than a flimsy excuse? Rian knew in his heart and soul that Catherine was everything he had ever wanted in a woman, in a lover, in a wife. He felt the heat rising. His temples throbbed as his pulse pounded, and his heart hammered against his ribcage. She continued to stare at him, her eyes quickly darkening to bottomless pools of deep blue as the gathering storm raged within her, a storm that Rian was more than willing to have consume him.

  “Catherine, you must believe me when I tell you I don’t remember taking Isabel to my bed. I swear by all that is dear to me, I don’t remember lying down with her or making love to her. I swear to you on my brother’s life.”

  She looked at him, aghast. “You admit to making love to her?”

  He shook his head, “No—yes—I don’t know. She says I did, but it didn’t feel like I did.”

  The air between them suddenly became very thick, and Rian watched Catherine close her eyes and take a deep breath, allowing the truth of his denial to cleanse her. When she looked at him again he saw her eye color had almost regained its normal hue, and her temper was subsiding. She came to him and placed her hand on his arm.

  “Tell me what happened that night.”

  “Are you certain you want to know?”

  Unwilling to see the reproof in Catherine’s eyes, Rian dropped his own. The floral design below his feet told him the carpet had been his mother’s choice. All these years, and he had never noticed.

  “Yes, I do.” Though softly spoken, the firm determination in Catherine’s voice made him raise his head and look at her. “I was not so drunk I’ve forgotten the words spoken to me by you in this room. Was any of it the truth?”

  “Every single word.”

  “Then if there is any hope for us, you must tell me what happened after I left you.”

  For Rian it was more than a confession. He told her of finding Isabel in his room, of the toast to not standing in the way of fate that she’d proposed, and the brandy they’d shared. He explained his strange reaction to the alcohol and his later belief that he’d been drugged. He even gave her his hazy memories of making love to a woman he’d believed was Catherine herself, and his horror the next morning when he awoke to find Isabel in his bed.

  He drained what was left in his glass and waited for Catherine to speak. She stared at him. His body language and the anguish on his face told her all she needed to know. He had not then, nor would he ever again, willingly give himself to Isabel Howard.

  “I appreciate how difficult that was for you,” she murmured as she moved toward the door. As painful as the words were for him to say, they had been even harder for her to hear.

  “Catherine…” Reaching out, he caught her hand as she passed him. She stopped with her back to him. “Marry me,” he whispered.

  Her sharp intake of breath sounded like a whip being cracked, and Rian watched her head snap up and her body stiffen, but she did not look at him. Instead she gently pulled her hand from his.

  “If your feelings remain the same, ask me again in the morning.” And for a second time she left him alone in the library, staring after her.

  Chapter 6

  Rian looked at the almost full bottle of brandy he had carried with him to his bedchamber and seriously considered finishing it off, but the numbing effect would be a temporary salve at best. With a sigh he set the bottle on the dresser and began undressing, cursing his own stupidity as he did so. What on earth had possessed him to ask Catherine to marry him? Not that he didn’t want to wed her, but the informality of his manner made the offer seem…disreputable, somehow.

  What had he been thinking?

  He hadn’t and that was the problem. He’d simply blurted out what he was feeling, which was his desire to spend the rest of his life with her. Rian had only ever proposed once before, and that had been a lifetime ago when youthful exuberance could easily be excused for a breach of etiquette. But he had no such excuse now. He was a grown man who really ought to know how to propose marriage to a woman without it sounding so off-the-cuff.

  I’m thinking about making an offer for that rather fine stallion Lord Wobbleychops is willing to part with, and if you have no other pressing engagement would you consent to be my wife afterwards?

  The problem was he couldn’t think clearly when he was around Catherine.

  The problem was he loved Catherine.

  The problem was he was in love with Catherine.

  But none of that made any difference now. Her reaction had spoken volumes, shattering any hope he may have held of sharing a life with her. The sudden awkwardness that rose between them, and the fact that she refused to look at him, could not have made her answer more clear. Her request that he ask again in the morning was an obvious ploy. It would give her time to fabricate a refusal that would not cut him to the quick. One that would spare his pride. Although she was, most likely, hoping he had enough brains not to ask again.

  “Damn it all to hell, but you’re an absolute ass!” he declared, berating his reflection in the mirror. He was behaving like a lovesick swain when he was older than Catherine by a decade at least, and ought to know better. Well, he had told himself that if she wanted no part of him then, he would hear it from her own lips, and Liam could not fault him for his listening skills this time.

  In the morning he would tell Catherine that it was not too late for a future with Lord Edward Barclay. It didn’t matter that she was not in love with him. The young man with the fiery red hair was still in love with her, and that could be enough for both of them. She had admitted she still cared for her childhood friend, and always would. Marriages had been built on far less. And if anyone could help the young man find the strength to stand up to his formidable mother, it would be Catherine. The decision made, Rian did his best to ignore the hollow ache in his chest. The grief of loss was already starting to suffuse him. Turning around, he gasped, the breath caught in his throat as Catherine took a step toward him.

  The illumination offered up by the lone candle was meager at best, but it was more than enough for Rian to see the apprehension on her face as she gazed up at him. Rian continued to stare, realizing as he did so that Catherine was wearing his robe. It was too big for her small frame, so the hem pooled on the floor and flowed over her bare feet. The sash was wrapped about her waist and
now rested over one hip, cleverly fashioned into a bow, and he knew he would never be able to look at his robe in quite the same way again. With her hair gathered in a loose braid that hung over one shoulder, Catherine had never looked more beautiful or alluring.

  “Catherine?” He tried to speak but his voice was nothing more than a nervous rasp. Rian felt his heart pounding wildly against his ribs as she delicately gathered the excess length of the garment in one hand, while closing the distance between them. A glimpse of her legs, the pale skin almost luminous in the dim room, was a promise that threatened to steal his reason. A confirmation that she wore nothing inside his robe.

  Rian had already removed his vest and managed to pull his linen shirt free of his breeches while mentally berating himself. He now watched as Catherine worked to free the buttons, a task made more difficult by her trembling fingers. If it were up to him he would tear the garment from his body, but he forced himself to resist the temptation by deliberately fisting his hands. However, he could do nothing about the heat that seared through him as she concentrated on her task.

  He knew from their recent conversation that she had put her father to bed many times, and was no stranger to loosening a man’s shirt. But he doubted her hands had ever trembled so much while attending her father, nor had so much been dependent on it. A small furrow appeared between her brows, telling him she was silently willing her fingers to remain steady. After freeing the last button, Catherine gently opened both halves of the shirt front, pulling the fabric away from his torso and exposing him to her gaze. The play of light and shadow across his well-muscled chest and abdomen made her draw in a breath. She slipped her hands inside the garment, sliding her palms over his skin as she rested her forehead against his sternum. Her breath, now as shallow and uneven as his own, raised goose flesh on his skin, but Rian continued to keep his arms at his sides, hands clenched tightly. He was afraid to touch her, knowing that to do so would be his undoing. There could be no turning back.

  His voice was a raw ache as he forced himself to ask, “Catherine, what are you doing here?”

  “Seeking the man who asked me to marry him.”

  The warm moistness of her mouth pressed against his skin, and a dozen wild horses took off in his stomach. He groaned. There was something in her voice, a quiver that he recognized as her own awakening need. Every muscle in his body tensed, making him shudder involuntarily, and he looked down at the same moment Catherine raised her own head and pulled him into the depths of her gaze. Not taking her eyes from his, she moved away, stepping back yet allowing the tips of her fingers to inflame his body by trailing lightly across his ribs and waist before her hand fell. She stopped moving when she was beyond his reach, measuring him with a silent, thoughtful look.

  Rian swallowed hard. A tongue of fire licked his skin. It was just a matter of time before he gave in to his need to touch her. The craving she had released deep inside him was ravenous and threatened his grip on all rational thought. Desire beat its own voracious path through him. He needed her. He wanted her, and this time he knew he would not be able to resist the temptation being offered. He did not want to resist, but yet he had to be sure.

  “Catherine, you do not have to do this.”

  “Rian, I cannot…” She hesitated, and his heart plummeted.

  He saw her close her eyes, unable to look at him as she suddenly comprehended the jeopardy she had placed herself in. It was beyond foolishness, it was an act of recklessness that put both her name and reputation in peril. The muscles along Rian’s jaw tightened as anger flared hot and white. Did she have any idea what a dangerous game she was playing? It was sheer madness to come to him like this. Allowing him a glimpse of what he hungered for, only to deny him.

  “I will not be a wife in name only, and I cannot in good conscience allow you to commit yourself to such a union.” The words fell from her lips in such a rush, Rian was certain he had misheard. It took him a moment to grasp her meaning and understand this was no refusal, no denial.

  “I never asked you—”

  Catherine’s imperious wave cut him short. “If I am to be with you, I have to know…that I can be a proper wife to you. A proper wife,” she repeated, “in every way.”

  Comprehension, like a cool rush of night air, suddenly tempered his lust and dissolved his anger. He knew exactly what she was saying, and why she was here. After the attack she’d suffered, she needed to know she could give herself to a man without succumbing to the nightmares that had bedeviled her.

  “No sweetheart, no. You have nothing to prove, Catherine, and I don’t need you to do this. Not now, not tonight.” He wanted her. God knew his body ached with his need, but not like this. Rian wouldn’t have Catherine give herself to him just to prove she could. He wanted—no, he needed—her to want him as much as he wanted her.

  She opened her eyes and let him see that her desire for him was undeniable, and unwavering. “Yes, I do. I want to…this night.” She tugged on the bow at her hip and his robe whispered open. The barest shrug and it slid from her shoulders, down her arms to pool on the floor in a silken cushion.

  Rian groaned as his eyes swept over Catherine’s naked body. His lust, already awake, broke free from all restraint as he drank her in. Though he had seen her naked before, this time it was different. Now she was offering herself to him, a banquet for him to feast on. And he was a starving man being told to sate his hunger. He gazed at her firm, lush breasts. Each one crowned with a pink nipple that practically cried out for the touch of his lips, the scrape of his teeth, the generous, unending attention of his tongue. He hadn’t realized how long her legs were in comparison to her upper body, and he rode the swell of his desire, imagining how it was going to feel to have the silky smoothness of those limbs wrapped around him.

  She was giving herself to him.

  To him alone.

  “Catherine, do you know what it is you are doing? There can be no turning back once you have given yourself. Do you understand what that means?” His warning filled every corner of the chamber.

  Catherine could not trust her voice, and nodded slowly in reply. Rian stripped off his shirt, finishing what she had begun. He saw the pulse at the base of her throat quicken and flutter like a small bird’s wings. Her body trembled and the end of her loosely fashioned braid danced against her hip as she took a deep, steadying breath. In and out.

  “Catherine…” Rian stepped in front of her and placed his fingers beneath her chin, raised her head and looked into her eyes. There was a wariness that made him pause. Despite her declaration, she was unsure of her decision. It still wasn’t too late for her to leave with her virtue intact. As hard as it would be to let her go, he knew he should send her away. Permitting her to remain if she had any doubts would mean he could never face her again. Or himself. The tips of his fingers were featherlight as they ran down the sides of her arms. She quivered beneath his touch. “What is it?” he asked in a voice he barely recognized as his own.

  “I’m afraid,” she whispered.

  His hands stopped moving. “You fear me?”

  She shook her head.

  “Then what?”

  “I’m afraid that I have come to you too late. That you have changed your mind and no longer want me.”

  Inside he groaned. Nothing could be further from the truth. His hands resumed their task though his touch was firmer. Was it his imagination, or did she tremble less?

  “There is something I need to know,” Rian said, looking down at her. She ran the tip of her tongue across her lower lip, making the heat that flamed his groin jump a few degrees. “How deep is the regard you have for Edward Barclay?”

  It was unfair of him to ask her about another man as she stood gloriously naked before him, but he had to quell the last doubt that lingered still. She had said she was not in love with Edward, but neither had she said she was in love with him. And he needed to know that she w
ould suffer no regrets by turning away from a man she had known all her life, for one she had known only a matter of months. He wanted to be enough for her. Rian saw her eyes narrow, her expression turning oddly fierce before it smoothed out.

  “I am where I wish to be,” she told him, “and with the only man I wish to be with.”

  Glorious joy washed through him, but still he offered her one last avenue of escape. And this had nothing to do with Edward or himself; this was for her alone.

  “This is your last chance,” he whispered. “You can leave now, and no one will ever know that you were here. But if you remain, I fully intend to make you my own. In every way.”

  Reaching up, Catherine put her arms around his neck while boldly pressing against him. He was already hard, but the warmth of her breasts pillowed against his chest made him still harder.

  “If I leave, it will not be by my choice.” Her mouth desperately sought his.

  Wrapping his arms around her, Rian pulled her even tighter against him, the feel of her skin electrifying his senses. With his mouth he greedily plundered hers, his tongue snaking in and out, making promises he had every intention of keeping. He could feel her nipples harden, becoming tight buds pressed against his chest, and he let his mouth move greedily down her neck, his teeth gently nipping and scraping her soft flesh.

  With one hand gripping his upper arm and the other buried in his hair, Catherine hung on, buffeted by sensations she never knew existed. She didn’t realize her knees were buckling until Rian pulled his mouth away. Scooping her up in his arms, he carried her to the bed. Quickly he shed his remaining clothing, and lay beside her, gently caressing her face. Taking his hand, Catherine turned it over and kissed the palm, her tongue tracing small circles on the surface as she looked up at him from beneath dark lashes. He rolled on top of her, propping himself up on his elbows as he systematically explored her face with his lips. He danced kisses over her forehead, her cheeks, her closed eyes. And this time, when his mouth found hers, he forced himself to be patient and savor the taste of her.