Her eyes remained closed, but it seemed to enhance the touch that worked its way higher until his strong, large hand spread to cover her flat stomach.
“How many have touched you like this, Cat?” He slid his hand lower into the curls covering her womanhood. Her eyes shot open to find him staring down at her. She wanted to shake her head, but found she could not move beneath his perusal. “How many have dreamed of having you tied to their bed?”
“None,” she whispered. “T-there have b-been none.”
His hand moved to the fastenings of his breeches as he grinned devilishly. “You can lie about many things, my English Cat, but not that.”
She turned her head as he drew his breeches down to his hips and lower. “I swear to you, there has been no one!” The bed tipped slightly when he knelt upon it.
He pushed her knees apart with one of his. His hand stroked her body from her stomach up to her lips. He replaced his hand with his mouth, and followed the same path. She struggled as his lips plundered the moist warmth of her mouth.
She wished he would not kiss her. The moment his mouth began to seduce hers, she ceased her struggles. She thought she heard a deep, rich chuckle, but she didn’t care. All her thoughts seemed to center on the strange ache radiating from where his naked hip pressed between her legs. His lips moved away from hers. She yanked against her bonds, wanting to draw him back.
Bereft of his heat, she gasped when his mouth found her breast. He took long moments to tease at it with his tongue, moving to suckle only when she whimpered. Her head rolled from side to side as she wondered what else he could do to her.
“Must you punish me?” she moaned.
His hand moved gently down her body until his fingers threaded sinuously through her soft curls. “This is not meant to punish.” His finger slipped inside her. She gasped and stiffened. “This is meant to bring you pleasure, too,” he whispered huskily. “Ahh, Cat,” he groaned. “You are so ready.”
Catherine didn’t understand what he meant. She only knew these new feelings were frightening. “Just be done with it!” she cried.
He withdrew his hand and raised up on outstretched arms over her. “As you wish,” he said. His tone sounded harsh. He lifted his hips and moved to perch between her thighs. She could not bear to watch him and turned her head to bury it in the sleeve that still covered her arm.
“This is your last chance to enjoy this, madam.” he told her. Catherine refused to move or respond. He lifted from her and she thought he might have decided on her reprieve. She turned her gaze toward him just as she felt something hard push between her thighs. In an effort to buck him off, she dug her heels into the mattress and arched her back.
“Catherine, don’t!”
She cried out in pain and frantically tried to dislodge him.
“Hold still!” he ordered and gripped her hips. “Damn it, woman! Hold still!”
Obeying the tone of his voice more than his words, Catherine ceased moving. She was afraid to move and, evidently so was he. But for one painful thrust, he remained still. An image of Sabrina lying beneath Rafael came back to haunt her. How could her cousin desire such pain?
“Catherine,” Ransom spoke softly near her ear. She shook her head, not wanting him to speak to her. “The worst is over,” he told her. “I’m going to have to move again inside you but it—”
“You’re hurting me!” She arched her hips again to push him away, but it only drove him deeper, the pain worse.
“Damn it! Don’t move like that!” She stilled and heard his breath rasping from his lungs. “Let me do it, Cat,” he instructed in a kinder voice. “The pain will ease each time I move.”
She wasn’t sure she trusted him to keep his word, yet when he carefully withdrew from her depths and gently eased back in, she felt no pain.
“Just keep still.” His voice sounded a little breathless.
She realized he was moving faster and she couldn’t resist peeking up at him. He seemed to be in pain, too, yet he didn’t stop. Beads of moisture dotted his brow and his jaw clenched tightly. Strange feelings began to encompass her body as she watched the muscles in his arms flex and the bands of sinew on his chest tighten. She could not understand this kind of agony.
“Ransom!” she called.
* * *
His name on her lips triggered his release. His body felt the violence of the spasms pumping the essence of him deep inside her. He wanted to call her name, to praise the pleasure she was giving him, even in her ignorance, but he remained silent.
Only when he could breathe again did he realize how sore his thigh was. He withdrew from her and eased to his side. Prepared to face her and the hate he knew would be in her eyes, he spotted the evidence of her innocence, though he already knew.
Silently, he rose and reached for his breeches. Dressed, he went to the basin and poured water into it before returning to her.
“Please let me go,” she asked calmly.
Ransom nodded and untied the belt, freeing her, but he would not let her rise. “Let me bathe you.” He gently drew a cool cloth between her thighs.
Sitting up, she tried to stop his hand. “I can do that.”
Her emerald eyes pleaded with him to relent, and he did. Turning his back to her, he let her tend herself. Gradually he realized he wanted the chore to keep from thinking about what he had done. “I’m sorry I hurt you,” he said firmly, finding it less difficult to apologize than he thought because he meant it. “You should have stayed still and—”
“Let you do as you wished?” He turned to see her clutching his robe about her nakedness.
“I said I am sorry.” He watched her rise and stand beside the bed.
“But you are not sorry that you . . . you took me, are you?”
“Hell, no!” he flared, wondering why she couldn’t simply accept his apology and leave it at that. In defense he added, “You are my wife. I expected to take you. In truth, madam, it should have been done long before now.”
She lifted her chin, but held the robe tightly about herself. She did not look at him. “May I please leave now?”
Ransom was suddenly very tired. He rubbed his brow. “Where do you expect to go at this time of night?”
“I only wish to return to my room.”
His head swung up to see her standing there, her back ramrod stiff. She obviously did not understand the import of what they had just shared. “This is your room now.”
She whirled to glare at him. “Surely you don’t think you . . . we are going to . . . to do that again?”
He grinned and rubbed his lower lip with his thumb. “Not right this minute.”
“Not ever!” she exclaimed and stomped her foot.
Ignoring her outburst, Ransom drew off his breeches and flipped back the blankets to slide beneath them. He twisted to plump his pillow. “Come to bed, Cat.”
“I don’t want—” She started to make her way to the door.
“You are my wife most completely now. This is your bed,” he stated with all the authority his background afforded. He gentled his voice. “I want you here, so take off that damned dressing gown and get in this bed.” Despite the normalcy of his words, the command was there, and he could see she knew it.
With infinite slowness, she obeyed him, except for the removal of his robe. She was ready to climb beneath the blankets when he snarled. In a flash, he grabbed the neck of the dressing gown and yanked it off her. He tossed it across the room. She scurried under the cover before he turned back to her. She lay beside him as stiff as a board. Grinning, he turned his back to her and blew out the candle.
“Good night, madam.” He fought the urge to laugh at her attempts to defy him. He would have to give her credit. She did so want to fight back. It was just the type of spirit a good spy would possess.
* * *
The soft rumblings of his heavy breathing made Catherine relax. Exhausted, she did not think she could sleep. Her mind was filled with images, and they all were of him.
Lying there in the dark, she could still see him as he stood naked by the bed demanding she join him.
If she had not been so upset by what he did, she might have appreciated the sculptured beauty of him. Even hating him, she could recall the height and strength of him. He dwarfed her in size and power. How could she fight him and expect to win?
His breathing did not alter and she sighed. The last thing she needed was to awaken the beast! He all but promised he would do that to her again, and she wanted to prolong the time until then for as long as she could. Even after her resolve to surrender to his wishes earlier, she would have to find ways to prevent him from wanting more.
Carefully, she eased to her side, her back to him. For a few minutes she toyed with slipping out of bed to gather the items she had prepared for her escape, but she knew her efforts would be futile. Now that he had claimed her, she knew he would track her down if necessary—if for no other reason than to prove he could.
The warmth of the bed and heat radiating from his body only inches away enticed her closer to sleep. She knew she should be thinking of how to beat him at his game, but she was so tired. She just began to doze when Ransom stirred.
Her eyes widened and she bit her lip to prevent herself from calling out when his arm fell over her waist. She was so close to the edge of the bed she could not pull away without falling off. She eased to her back and gently lifted his arm to move it off her. She blew out her breath when she set it beside her, but he moved again. This time he dragged her tightly to his side, his face nuzzling her hair.
She moaned softly and gave up the fight to her fatigue.
* * *
Ransom’s mouth lifted in a smile as he felt her relax. He knew he would get his way if he was patient. She might be feisty, this little woman, but her temper had no staying power.
He enjoyed the warm softness of her almost as much as he enjoyed making love to her. Despite her innocence, she was quite a woman. He suspected it would only get better when she participated.
Images of her writhing beneath him brought a renewal to his longing, but he tamped down his desires. He would have her again, probably that very night, but he wanted her rested and less apprehensive.
Something in her past had frightened her and he didn’t want to add to it more than he already had. It had something to do with the man her cousin loved. He had heard the disgust in her voice when she spoke of him. Then there was the way she demanded he get it over with, like she thought lovemaking was a distasteful chore. Hadn’t anyone told her about the delights of the flesh? Or did her magnanimous cousin enhance her fears instead?
No doubt Sabrina abused her cousin’s trust. He felt sure it was done maliciously to prevent Catherine from entering her social circle. As if she knew his thoughts, Catherine stirred, prompting a smile when she snuggled closer to his warmth.
Giving her a chance to rest would not be easy, not if she kept moving against him. Steeling his own responses, he relaxed to enjoy this quiet closeness. It was a first for him, and he rather liked it. With a smile still on his lips, Ransom joined her in sleep.
* * *
Catherine drifted in a foggy half-sleep. Something drew her from a deeper realm, but it was something so pleasant she resisted waking to continue to enjoy it. Warm and comfortable, she felt a restlessness begin to stir inside her. She realized someone was touching her—very gently.
She hoped it was a dream until she felt a hand skimming over her thigh. It moved upward to sculpt her hip before rising to her waist. She liked the gentle caress yet she thought she shouldn’t. Prepared to drift back to sleep after the pleasant interlude, she gasped and tried to roll onto her stomach when the hand came up to cup her breast.
“Easy, Cat,” Ransom whispered and brushed his lips against her shoulder.
Fully alert, Catherine grimaced. “P-please don’t do that again.”
Ransom stilled his hand but carefully eased her to her back beside him. Perched on an elbow, he gazed down at her in the minimal light of pre-dawn.
“I will not hurt you again, Cat. I swear it.”
He sounded so sincere. Her eyes strained to read the expression on his face, but all she could make out was what looked like a frown. Not wanting any emotional attachment to the man after what he had done, she turned her face away and attempted to change the direction of his thoughts.
“Why do you call me that?”
Ransom chuckled lightly. “You remind me of a cat,” he told her. “You hiss and spit when cornered or threatened, yet you curl up against me in sleep like a contented kitten.”
“That’s ridiculous,” she whispered harshly.
“And I think I will have you purring before long,” he added, clearly paying no attention to her remark. He slipped his hand back over her breast. She made to bolt, but he moved quickly, throwing his leg over hers. “Stay still,” he ordered. “I told you I won’t hurt you.”
Catherine bit her lip as she steeled herself for an unpleasant ordeal, yet she found his gentle exploration did not repulse her. He moved slowly, running his palm from one side of her to the other. She closed her eyes and tried to remain detached, but it felt so soothing she could not resist a sigh.
As she relaxed, he altered his hand to trace just one finger over her flesh and seemed to concentrate on the sensitive peak of her breast. Swallowing hard, she found she liked his touch after all, but couldn’t understand why. Lulled by it, her eyes flew open and she gasped when he took the tightening bud between his thumb and finger, squeezing gently.
“You like that, don’t you?” he grinned. She refused to answer. “There are many things I can do that you would like, my little kitten,” he huskily went on. “Like this.” He turned back the blanket and lowered his mouth to her breast. He rasped his tongue over her swollen tip. She gasped and arched her back to be closer to his warm mouth.
* * *
It would have been easy to forget she was just at the beginning, Ransom thought as his own body reacted to her encouragement. Anxious to move over her and press inside her, he wanted to erase any lingering fears first. He knew his patience would bring about many nights of future pleasure.
While his mouth continued to play favors with her breasts, he moved his hand lower. Rubbing his palm over her triangle of curls, he felt her legs slowly relax, allowing him to slide a finger inside. She tensed for a moment and he did not move, giving her time to get use to him. He stroked her gently only when he knew she was ready.
In a very short time, Catherine began to respond. It pleased him. He believed a passionate woman hid within a shell of fearful innocence—and he wanted to free her. As he drew her deeper into the sensuous web he wove, he wanted to show her how to please him as well.
“Give me your hand, kitten.” She complied at once. He smiled. Holding her firmly, he told her why. “I want you to touch me, too.”
Catherine flinched and tried to draw away. “I c-cannot.”
“Let me teach you,” he coaxed her to relax, teasing at her mouth with his tongue. “Let me prove to you I am only flesh and blood.”
Her hand remained stiff yet she allowed him to draw her ever closer to his swollen manhood. Her fingers were slowly pressed around him. When he felt her begin to relax, he taught her the motion of caressing him.
He grew harder in her hand. He wondered what thoughts were running through her mind when she suddenly turned toward him. He could hardly believe his reaction as her fingers ran slowly across his stomach. An involuntary spasm caused him to groan. He gripped her hand.
“Ahh, Cat,” he sighed. “You are driving me crazy with desire for you.” He drew her into the circle of his arms and took a moment to steady his breathing. “I want you to experience your full pleasure, but if you keep touching me like that, it will all be over too quickly.”
Her breath stirred the matte of hair against her cheek, sending more heat through his already warm body. She remained so still he wondered if she was falling back to sleep. Unsure if he should continue or let
her sleep, he heard her sigh and he rubbed his chin to the top of her head.
“I would know that pleasure,” she shyly murmured.
His body tensed. “Then I must come back inside you,” he told her, wanting no misconceptions. He ran his hand gently over her to ease any of her fears. “I will not hurt you this time, kitten, but you will be filled with me.”
Catherine leaned her head back and she gazed up at him. Her hand rose to his cheek. “I trust you.”
Never had Ransom felt such a welling of emotion as when he heard her words. Despite the trace of fear in her eyes, she would give her body over to him. He prayed he would be worthy of her trust. “And I shall not disappoint you.” He smiled and lowered his lips to hers.
His kiss deepened. He wanted her drawn into the vortex of desire he felt for her. He carefully pressed her to the bed until he was above her. He reached between her legs to prepare her for his entry and found her already moist.
With infinite care and his resolve steeled, Ransom pressed himself slowly into her. He heard her whimper. “Am I hurting you?” he asked, his own body trembling.
For a moment she remained silent, then her arms circled the breadth of his back. “No,” she moaned. “Only I feel—” His hips moved with inexorable precision, driving deep and withdrawing slowly.
“I know, my lovely Cat,” he groaned. “I know.”
Chapter Twelve
* * *
Ransom stood at the bottom of the bed and watched Catherine as she slept. She must surely be exhausted from the night just past—with so few hours of sleep. He enjoyed the way a tendril of her hair traced her cheek. He mused over the way it had felt wound about his hands.
The Rebel's Bride Page 13
