The morsel of meat in her mouth turned into a rock as her mouth went dry. She swallowed, forcing it down her throat before she could no longer manage the small feat.
A wide smile she had to force set across her face. “This may be the last time we eat together. You are leaving for Notlund Castle in a few days, and after that…who knows?” Ara couldn’t bring herself to actually speak the word “marriage.” “I just wish...”
“You know exactly why I have to do this, Ara. Money. It is the only reason.” Caine moved to grab the one wine glass, filling it from the bottle of wine that was in the room when Ara had entered. He poured the deep red to near full in the glass and then swallowed a third of it.
“I just wish it had never come to this,” Ara said. “That you had told me earlier. Years ago. Maybe we could have devised a way to create a new scheme, something that could support the revitalization of the mines. Anything. That it came to this and I can do nothing to help. And now I must disappear.”
He set the wine glass down, his eyes moving from it to her face. “A marriage does not mean we have to sever our ties, Ara. I do not know why you continue to insist this is the end of us.”
Us? Hell. Did Caine even know what he was saying? Ara’s mind raged. There could be no “us” after he married. Did he not understand how this was ripping her apart?
No.
Of course not. How could he? She had never told him—and he would never want to hear it.
She nudged another piece of meat with her fork. “Caine, you know very well no woman with all her faculties about her would dare to allow you leave to spend as much time with another woman as we spend together.”
“I will allow exactly what I want to, Ara.”
“Yes, but do you want a bitter wife? Do you want a mother to your children that resents you at every turn? There is only room for one woman in a marriage, Caine. And I refuse to be a festering splinter in your marriage.”
“You do not know that would happen. I depend on you, Ara, and I am not going to let anyone—anyone—tell me I can no longer do so.”
“You depend on me for what? To oversee your numbers? To handle your staff? Your solicitor and your man-of-affairs and your new wife are all you need for those things. The oddity of our relationship…”
She stabbed the piece of meat with her fork, then dropped the silver to the table, folding her arms across her belly. “If it was me—”
She cut herself off. She wasn’t going to speak it. Speak the imaginations of a fool.
He leaned forward, his blue eyes piercing her. “If what was you, Ara?”
Ara held his gaze, refusing to cower. He knew exactly how to challenge her in a way she could never back down from.
Her head tilted. “If I was married to you, Caine, I would never let another woman near you. You are…too desirable. I would not want to see another look at you with adoration. With lust. With wanting. I do not think you know how you affect people, Caine, women in particular. They bend to your will without fail—they simper at the slightest glance from you.”
“You never bend to my will, Ara.”
“That is only because you need me not to.” Her jittery leg thumping under the table, Ara stood and moved to the middle of the floor, her eyes locking onto the glowing coals in the fireplace. Just enough heat to stave off the night’s chill. But not enough to warm the cold invading her spine.
“You cannot be mad at me, Ara. I must do this for the title. For future generations.”
“When have you ever cared about blasted future generations, Caine?” Her words came out in a bitter hiss.
“Do not disregard what you do not understand, Ara.”
The reprimand hit her, stinging. But then the floorboards creaked behind her.
Caine moved close, his body stopping near to hers, and his voice softened. “I would not choose this, you know that.”
She whipped to him. “Yes, of course I know that. But it is the money. Always the money. My life was ripped apart once for money. All because some bastard wanted to sell me. And now everything I am—everything I do—is being ripped apart again because you need a wife with money and I cannot be in your life once that happens.”
“Everything?”
“Yes, everything. I do you, Caine—your life, me in your life. That is what I do best.” She sucked in a breath, trying to calm the boil that had overtaken the chill in her body. “So yes, I am mad. I am losing everything once more, and you do not even care enough to acknowledge the truth of what will become of us.”
“You have already moved on, Ara—wanting to leave the Gilbert Lane house. Mr. Flagerton.”
“I did not have a choice, Caine. I wanted this to be easy for you. To not be a burden.”
His hand ran through his hair. “So now you think to not make this easy for me, Ara?”
Her mouth opened, but then clamped shut.
It slammed into her head at that very moment.
She had to tell him everything. Easy for him or not.
If this was the last time she would have him alone, she had to tell him.
She had vowed after the horror of the brothel, the beating from her father, that she would never be a coward again. Yet here she was. Wallowing. Whining. Hiding behind anger because it was easier than admitting the truth to him.
She loved him.
And she not only had to tell him that, she also had to tell him the whole truth—what really happened at the brothel all those years ago with Isabella. If she could tell him everything, then she could be done. Her conscience clean. Come what may.
His cravat long since removed, Ara stared at the base of Caine’s neck where his skin disappeared behind the white linen of his shirt. She waited for the pounding in her chest to cease, but it only thumped harder, blood rushing to her ears. Her eyes crept upward. “What am I to you, Caine?”
“What do you want me to say, Ara?” His words came slow, wary.
“Am I your secretary? Your man-of-affairs? Your friend? Your partner in saving the girls? Your confidante? What am I?”
His look dove to the fireplace for long seconds before it lifted to her, the blue in his eyes intense. “You…you are everything, Ara.”
“You say that, yet how do you not know I love you?”
He took a step backward, his body stiffening. Exactly as she expected it would.
“Ara—”
Her hand flew up, stopping him before he had to scrape together excuses she didn’t want to hear. “I do not need you to love me, Caine. But you need to know why I cannot do this—cannot be in your life when another woman is in your bed—the mother of your children. I cannot watch that. Not if I plan to keep my soul. And there is more—”
“There sure as hell is.” He stalked forward, halting a hair before his body touched her chest. “By all that is holy in the world, Ara, I swore I would never touch you again.” His hand rose, hovering next to her face, but not making contact. “But I am having a bloody tough time keeping that vow at the moment.”
Instant tingles ripped across her scalp and dropped down her spine. Her eyes locked onto his, their breath mingling, twisting the air between them.
She fought to catch her breath, fought to unleash words from deep in her belly. “Never make a vow you have no intention of keeping, Caine.”
His hand hung in the hair, frozen except for the slight tremble running through it.
Ara would have none of it. Not after six years of loving this man.
She reached up, her fingers sliding along his knuckles until her hand covered his. She pressed.
His palm landed on her cheek, his fingers curling into her hair as he exhaled. In the next breath, his mouth was on hers, lips attacking, owning her the very second his heat met hers.
She had to tell him everything. She knew it. He needed to know.
But the onslaught on her senses, the sudden pounding pulse between her legs took all thoughts of honesty from her mind.
His hand on her face slid, wrapping ar
ound the base of her neck. Caine opened his mouth, his tongue breaching her lips, exploring, adjusting with everything he found, with how she reacted from his touch while his other hand slid down the side of her body.
He had the buttons on her jacket and silk shirt undone, both of them stripped off before she even realized where his hands were.
And when she did realize, she made no motion to stop him, made no effort to halt the dream she had walked into, her mind muddled with six years of longing finally unleashed.
He worked the laces on her short stays, slipping her chemise over her shoulders before loosening her skirts.
Her clothes puddled to the floor in one jumbled mess, covering her feet. Her body bared to him.
Caine broke the kiss, pulling back from her to look at her body. His blue eyes rode along her curves, devouring every piece of her skin. She resisted the instinct to cover herself. This was Caine, and she refused to hide herself from him.
“Hell, Ara. Beautiful.” His eyes lifted, the hunger in them blazing.
She met his look, a devil smirk teasing her lips. “And I would like to see how beautiful you are.”
Caine laughed and grabbed her behind the neck as he kissed her. His tongue delved deep into her as he worked off his jacket and waistcoat. Her fingers quick onto his skin, she lifted his shirt over his head as he unbuttoned the flap on his trousers.
It only took seconds, but seconds that stretched on far too long for Ara. And then he was naked. Bared to her just the same.
She gasped a breath, shuffling a step away from him so she could see him in the light of the candles.
The first and only time he had touched her, years ago, she hadn’t known exactly what was coming—what Caine was doing—only that it felt like bursts of heaven running through her veins.
Countless nights spent waiting—watching and listening—in the East End outside of the brothel had taught her much about anatomy, about the possible acts that a man and woman could do together. Both lewd and imaginative. But aside from a few glimpses of unsavoriness through the crack in the carriage’s curtains, she had never seen any of it, not truly.
But this, seeing Caine naked, it made her jaw drop. Every single one of her past imaginations were instantly rewritten.
For all she knew—had heard on the streets, the imaginations in her mind—she had never thought Caine would be so…magnificent. She had seen Greek sculptures in the British Museum and knew what Caine should look like. But this. His shaft long and huge, stretching up to his belly.
Fascinated, she stepped forward and wrapped her hand around it, marveling at the smoothness, how it pulsated with his heartbeat under her fingertips.
Caine’s head fell back, a low growl erupting.
Ara slipped her fingers along his shaft, taking in every ridge, every texture, up and down.
“Hell, Ara, yes. Keep it there.” His hand lifted, wrapping around the back of her neck.
Unable to tear her eyes away, Ara slid her fingers downward, tightening the pressure with every stroke she made.
“Damn, Ara.” In the next breath he grabbed her wrist, stopping the motion.
She could see his muscles straining, demanding something she did not quite understand.
“Not yet, Ara. Not like this. And not until you’re ready.”
“Ready?”
His hand dragged across her skin, moving downward from her neck, between her breasts, over her belly, until his forefinger slipped into her folds, a magnet to the core of her. The first touch sent Ara gasping, fire running through her flesh, and she grasped his shoulders, leaning into him for support.
Caine chuckled, his breath hot in her ear. “Your body aches for the release, Ara, doesn’t it?”
His fingers spread her wide, his thumb circling the nubbin that sent her hips shifting, pressing onto his hand. Begging for him to move harder, faster.
He obliged without her even asking, his forefinger diving into her as his thumb continued the onslaught.
Still, it was not enough. “Caine—please—please.”
“Please what, Ara?”
“Please—all of this.” She moaned as he flicked his finger over the rock hard core of her, not caring how guttural she sounded. “Just—all of it—this—”
Her voice left her. Air left her. Thought left her. Her head started spinning, control lost from all limbs. She was nothing but hot, demanding need gathered under Caine’s fingers. All she could concentrate on was her nails digging into Caine’s back. Holding on to this man giving her body life. Riding his hand. Screaming into his shoulder.
It attacked, shattering, stealing every ounce of who she was and leaving nothing in its wake except for rolling waves of pleasure.
Through the blackness, she felt Caine setting her onto her back on the bed, his fingers still coaxing spasm after spasm from her core.
She felt his weight upon her. His shaft nudging through her pulsating folds.
“Ara, do you want this?”
Her release still ravaging her body, she could only crack her eyes to him. His face was strained, his control near breaking, yet still, he asked her.
For all that she couldn’t imagine it, she knew she wanted more. Wanted—needed what he was about to do. Her mouth opened, her voice breathless. “You saved this from being stolen from me. It is yours by right, Caine.”
The words snapped him backward.
He yanked his hands off of her, jumping from the bed to his feet. “I want no damn rights to your body, Ara. I want an invitation.”
Her eyes opened fully, his growled words pulling her from the hazy fog of nerves rolling through her body. The sudden absence of his heat above her sank into her brain, and before she could even sit up on the bed, Caine had shoved his legs into his trousers and was stomping toward the door to the hall.
He stopped for only a mere second, looking back to the floor before the bed. His eyes did not lift to hers. “I touched you when I should not have, Ara. I swear it will not happen again.”
Two steps, and he disappeared into the hall, the door slamming shut.
Confusion ravaged her, so thick it clouded her eyesight and sent her body into a quiver.
What the hell had just happened? What had he said? She wasn’t sure she heard him correctly. He wanted an invitation to her body? She looked down at her naked flesh. If this wasn’t an invitation, what was?
Collapsing back onto the bed, her hand covered her eyes, pressing down tears that threatened.
She had been so very high, floating, and in a second, he was gone.
She had no idea what had just happened between the two of them.
Except that she had just watched her heart walk out the door.
She had told him she loved him.
Offered herself to him.
And he had rejected her.
Tears squeezed past her fingers, rolling down her temples.
Not that she deserved him. Or his love. She hadn’t gotten a chance to tell him the rest of what she needed to. Maybe he realized, deep down, how she was going to disappoint him—how he would hate her. He must have known it instinctively, and he had left.
Left before there was no turning back.
Ara rolled to her side on the bed, her bare legs sliding up to her belly.
She had bared absolutely everything of her being to him—her body, her soul, her love.
And he had rejected her.
There was only one thing to do.
Curl away. Hide. Survive.
{ Chapter 9 }
Flat on his back in his own bed, Caine eyed the bottle of brandy on the table by the fireplace in his room. For three hours he had stared at the damn thing.
He had never needed a drink more in his life. But he wasn’t about to chance it—chance he would do something so regrettable with Ara that she would exit his life forever.
There had been that one moment. The moment when she had said she loved him and his entire existence up until that sole second in time hadn’t mattered.
That she could love him after how he had violated her those many years ago—impossible. But he had latched on full force to those words, latched on until her clothes were on the floor and she was riding his hand, her nails in his shoulders, her beautiful eyes drugged with his heat, her open mouth begging with each gasp that passed by her lips.
Caine shifted on the bed, adjusting his newly revived rock hard bulge.
But Ara didn’t love him.
Why had he not seen that? She was indebted to him—she had been for the last six years. Her words were proof of that. Her virginity was his to take? There could be no more brutal proof that she would always be beholden to him.
Always see him as the man that bought her.
His usual solid reasoning should have reminded him there was no way she could love him—truly love him—after the bastard he was to her all those years ago.
She was just reacting—she didn’t want her life to change—didn’t want him to marry. That was a very different thing than loving him.
It had taken will power he only barely possessed to walk out her door, and he knew if he had even a tumbler of brandy, he’d be back in her room, finishing what they had started. Honor be dammed, he would tangle himself up in her naked limbs and never untwine them.
So no. No brandy.
Not that he couldn’t stare at it longingly.
A garbled cry cut through the wall from Ara’s room.
Caine tensed.
Silence. Then a whimper. Then the word “crow” screeched. Silence. Scream. More garbled words. Silence.
He lay still, praying the silence held.
Agony ripped through her next nonsensical screams. Louder. Horrified.
Dammit. Dammit to the bloody depths of hades and back, and then back again to hell. Dammit. He couldn’t let her suffer.
Caine stood from his bed, his legs heavy as he made his way out of his room and turned the knob on her door. Not locked. He gave a growled sigh. She knew she was supposed to lock the door. She knew that.
Vow: A Lords of Action Novel Page 10
