by Smith, Bobbi
Adam tried not to think about the night ahead, about sleeping in the same bed with her, about knowing she was his to take . . . No, he told himself furiously, as attractive as he might find her physically, there was no way he was going to allow himself to make love to her.
His mood was black indeed as he handed his mount over to a waiting servant and then strode inside. He was pleased to find that everyone else had gone to bed, and he decided to take the time to have a drink before going upstairs to join his bride. The bourbon went down smoothly, and he welcomed the bolstering heat of it in his system.
Adam was tempted to spend the night in the study drinking, but thought better of it. Though he hadn't wanted this marriage, he was not going to let Lianne chase him from his own bed. He finished off his liquor and started upstairs.
As he mounted the staircase, he found himself wondering if Lianne was eagerly awaiting him in their marriage bed. A mental image of her anxiously anticipating his coming filled his mind. In his unbidden fantasy he pictured Lianne wearing a seductive negligee that bared her long limbs and the curves of her pale-hued breasts. The glory of her hair tumbled down about her shoulders, and her arms were reaching out for him . . .
A surge of heat flooded his loins, and with a vile, muttered curse, he forced the vision away. He was not going to give her the satisfaction of knowing he desired her. He was not going to taste of her incredible sweetness. He was going to stay clear of her. They might share the same bed, but that was as intimate as they were going to get.
The bedroom was dark when he entered. Obviously, Adam thought, Lianne had gone to sleep. He was glad. He hadn't wanted to deal with her tonight anyway.
Then the taunting thought came —So much for the fantasy. She had gotten what she wanted, and that was all that mattered to her.
Adam made his way to the dresser and lit the single lamp there, intending to turn it up just enough so he could see to undress. Adam kept his gaze averted from the bed. He did not look at its reflection in the mirror, and he did not turn around. Instead, he methodically unbuttoned his shirt, shrugged out of it, and threw it aside. He had just started to take off his pants when he glanced up for the first time and saw that his bed was empty.
He stared at it in confusion for a moment, his emotions a curious mix of disbelief and outrage. Where the hell was she? He looked around then and noticed that there was no sign at all of her presence. Without bothering to put his shirt back on, he stalked from the room.
Though she was exhausted, Lianne had not yet managed to fall asleep. Every time she started to drift off, the memory of Adam's passionate kiss after the wedding ceremony would return, and she would come fully awake again. She didn't understand him, that was plain. He had declared that he didn't want her in any way, and yet his embrace had been as exciting and irresistible as ever. Lianne shivered in remembrance, then struggled to put it from her once more. She would never know the ecstasy of being with him again.
Unexpectedly, her bedroom door flew open and banged loudly against the far wall. There, silhouetted against the brightness of the hall, stood Adam. He seemed larger than life and seemed to fill the entire doorway. Even in the shadowed darkness, she could tell that he was angry about something, for he stood there, hands on hips, glaring at her across the width of the room.
"What are you doing in my room?" Lianne demanded as she struggled to sit up in bed, clutching the covers over her bosom.
"The question is — wife — what are you doing in your room?" he returned, moving into the room and slamming the door behind him.
"I intend to keep my room, sir," she answered haughtily, lifting her chin in determination.
"Like hell you are!" Adam declared. In a fit of fury, he strode forward to the bed and snatched her up in his arms, blanket and all.
"What do you think you're doing!" Lianne shrieked as he opened the door and started from her room.
"You are my wife, and your place is with me." Adam didn't know why he felt so strongly about it. He just knew that he did.
"Oh no, it's not!"
She tried to throw herself from his arms, but Adam only clamped his arms more tightly about her. As he turned to kick his bedroom door closed behind them, she continued to struggle. Her efforts were useless, though. All she managed to accomplish was to lose control of the blanket she'd kept firmly wrapped around her. It fell from her grasp just as he moved toward his bed.
Adam knew that she'd dropped something, and he glanced down at her to see what it was. He knew immediately that he'd made a mistake. Lianne was wearing a shimmering creation of a negligee that put the one in his fantasy to shame. The material was a filmy fabric, gossamer in texture. Its pale peach color teased his senses, revealing all of her luscious curves. He could see the darker tips of her breasts where the material stretched taut over her bosom. In her struggles, the gown had pulled up, leaving her long, shapely legs bare to his gaze.
A flare of molten desire shown in his dark eyes as they raked boldly over her. Adam felt the tension building in his loins, but he fought it down. It took every ounce of willpower that he possessed not to act upon his raging passion. A muscle twitched in his cheek as he kept control. Beautiful though she was, he would not bed her again.
Lianne knew a moment of panic as the blanket dropped from her grasp. She stared up at him, her eyes mirroring the fear and uncertainty she was feeling at being so exposed before him. Her pulse raced in frantic rhythm as her emerald gaze met his. She held her breath as he carried her to the bed, not sure what to expect from him. When he dumped her unceremoniously in the middle of it, she was shocked.
"That, my dear bride, is where you belong," Adam stated arrogantly.
At being so manhandled, Lianne came to her knees to face him. "I won't stay here with you! I have my own room, and I intend to use it."
"You make one move to leave that bed, and I'll tie you to it," he said in a tone that left no doubt in her mind that he would do it.
"But why?" Lianne argued. "You've said yourself that our marriage is a farce. Why ask this of me? Why not leave me alone completely like you did all evening?"
Adam smiled thinly at her last statement. "What's wrong, dear wife? Were you jealous?"
"I'd never be jealous of you, Adam Trent!"
Her words angered him and he reached out to grab her arms, hauling her up against him. "Did you think of me pleasuring Suzanne as I pleasured you?" he taunted, releasing one of her arms so he was free to fondle her.
Lianne jerked away from his touch as if she was burned. "I hate you!"
"Oh, yes, how well I know that. You hate me for everything I've ever done to you. Tell me, wife, exactly what have I ever done to you to incur such hatred? Was it because I've managed to pull Belle Arbor back from the brink of financial disaster? Or was it because I planted my seed within you and gave you my child? Or was it because I married you to save your reputation and to give my baby his rightful heritage? Tell me, Lianne, just why do you hate me?" Adam sneered as he pushed her almost violently back down on the bed. He stood over her, regarding her coldly. "You will share my bed, Lianne, and not just tonight, but every night."
"But—"
His sharp look silenced her. "I won't have it publicly known that our marriage is less than it should be."
Lianne scrambled to grab the sheet on the bed and cover herself, but the look he gave her shamed her for her action.
"You needn't worry that I will force my attentions on you. There are many who would eagerly ease my manly needs. I won't be troubling you, dear, and I will be discreet. Now go to sleep. It's been a long day and I, for one, am tired."
Lianne moved to the far side of the bed, still holding the covers tightly about her. As Adam turned away from her and began stripping off the last of his clothing, she wanted to ignore him, but she found herself watching him. She stared, mesmerized, as he stood naked before her, looking much like some sun-bronzed god. His body was sculpted muscle, his shoulders wide, his hips trim, his legs long and straigh
t.
As Adam moved to put out the light, she thought he moved with the grace of a beast of the wilderness . . . surefooted, quiet, ever ready to defend or attack. The comparison sent a feverish chill down her spine, and she closed her eyes tightly, wishing fervently for sleep to come, but knowing it would not.
She felt the bed sag under his weight and felt him move beneath the blankets. For some reason she was breathless and wary, but as the minutes passed and he made no move to touch her, she slowly relaxed. The next day she would be amazed to find that she'd fallen asleep so easily with Adam beside her.
Adam lay stiffly in his bed. His body throbbed with the need to take Lianne, to slake the passion he felt for her, but the iron-fisted rein he kept on his desires mastered his need. He would not make love to her, not tonight, not tomorrow night, never! It was near dawn before he finally managed to get a little rest.
David Williams had stayed on much later than usual with Elise this evening, hoping against hope for some small sign of improvement. Night after night, he'd come to sit with her, talking of anything and everything in an effort to encourage some kind of response from her. As he let himself out of the house and moved off down the darkened street, he felt as if all his efforts were for nothing. He had tried a whole range of approaches, but none of them had worked. Elise had not improved, and he was beginning to believe that she never would.
He'd even started to bring her small presents, little things like a single, fragrant blossom from the garden, but there had been no change. In a last, concerted attempt, he'd purchased a music box that played a sweet, light melody. Every night when he'd arrived, he had wound it up and played it to her as he sat with her. He had hoped that what conversation couldn't accomplish, music could, but again it had seemed to have no affect.
David's heart was heavy with a terrible sense of failure as he left Elise. His steps were slow and hesitant, and he found that he was actually dreading going home. His house, once his haven from his emotionally taxing work, now seemed lonely and almost barren. David frowned as he wondered at the change in himself.
It was during the wee hours of the morning that Elise came awake. She blinked sleepily and stared about the strange room, trying to remember what it was that had disturbed her rest. A tumbled twist of memories surfaced in her mind —scenes and faces, odd bits of conversations, none of them threatening, none of them exciting.
Only one memory carried any emotion with it. It was the memory of the music, of the haunting refrain that filled her with a firm sense of warmth and security. Now, in the dark of the night, Elise needed to hear that sweet, reinforcing melody again.
Elise sat up in her bed and looked around. In the dimness of the low lamplight she saw the object of her desire on the nearby dresser and gave a sigh of relief. Throwing off her blanket, she left her bed to claim the prize she sought. Her legs were trembling as she made her way back to the bed, the music box clutched tightly in her grasp.
Elise thought it odd that she should feel so weak, and she wondered about it. She was shaky as she sat down on the edge of the bed and placed the music box on the night table. With the utmost of care, she wound the spring and then sat enraptured as the lilting strains of the chime echoed sweetly in her chamber. She reached out with a finger to cherishingly touch the small treasure and then lay back on the comfort of her bed to listen.
Her last thought as she fell into a deep, restful sleep was of a gentle-voiced man named David, whose memory was indelibly intertwined with that of the music. She sighed contentedly and slept.
Chapter Twenty-two
Becky could not sleep. For most of the long hours of darkness, she'd merely stayed in bed, alone with her thoughts. So much had happened and in such a short period of time that her mind was awhirl with the importance of all of it. She thought of Adam and Lianne and their forced marriage, and she said a little prayer that it would all work out.
The memory of Adam's confession concerning his real reason for being involved with Suzanne troubled her deeply, and his obstinate refusal to give up on his vendetta against Shark worried her even more. She wanted him to put it from him, to concentrate on his new wife and unborn baby, but there was no reasoning with Adam on the subject. Every time one of the messages from Dr. Williams came telling him that Elise still had made no progress, his mood turned black. He was held in the grasp of his obsessive need for revenge, and she wondered if it would ever end.
Becky was feeling overwhelmed as she thought of how complicated everything had become. Just a day ago at the party, she'd been trying to figure out a way to get Adam and Lianne together. For all her plans, she had never expected anything like this. Even Beau had been surprised by the speed with which it had all come about.
At the thought of Beau, Becky signed wistfully. He was so wonderful. Ever since the trouble had begun, he'd been there for her, helping her in any way he could. They had been so caught up in making all the arrangements of the wedding that there had been no time for them to have another private moment together. She had not had the chance to say any more about her true feelings for him.
Now that the wedding was over and life would be returning to some form of normalcy, she wished that she had more time with him. It was not possible this trip, though, for he was leaving early in the morning to return to the ship.
The prospect of not seeing him again for perhaps months on end left Becky feeling disconsolate. She yearned to be with him. She loved him, and she didn't want to be separated from him. She wanted to know his kiss once more and feel the exquisite joy of his touch. A coil of aching ecstasy built in the heart of her as she remembered their few minutes alone together in the study, and she wondered what would have happened had they not been interrupted.
For one wild instant, Becky considered stowing away on the Sea Shadow just to be near him, but she quickly discarded the idea. She was too old for such game-playing. No, if she wanted Beau, she was just going to have to go after him . . . and the sooner the better. For when he left Belle Arbor, he was going to return to New Orleans and that barmaid Katie . . .
The last realization drove her from her bed. Beau was still there. He hadn't left yet. This would be her last chance to be alone with him before he left, and she intended to take advantage of it. When he went back to town, he was going to remember what happened tonight and never go near the barmaid again.
Slipping into a long-sleeved silken wrapper, Becky quietly crept from her room and made her way to the far end of the hall where Beau slept in the guest quarters. A shiver of fear-tinged excitement tingled through her. Becky wasn't quite sure exactly what she was going to do once she entered his room, but she knew she couldn't let him leave without being with him.
Her hand was shaking as she reached out to turn the doorknob, and she drew a tremulous breath when it turned easily in her grip. Thrilled, yet still timid, Becky pushed on the heavy portal and opened it just wide enough to slip inside. With the skill of a thief, she shut it soundlessly behind her, and then stood with her back flush against it as she stared about the darkened room trying to get her bearings.
A breeze at the window ruffled the drapes and allowed the moonlight to penetrate the pitch blackness of the bedroom. She saw him then, lying on his back, asleep on the bed, a sheet drawn up over the lower half of his body. Beau seemed larger than life to her as she studied him. His blond hair, pale in its own right, was silvered by the moon's glow. His classically handsome features were relaxed now in slumber. Unguarded as he was now, Beau appeared young and carefree and looked much as he had during his late teenage years when Becky had recognized for the first time that she loved him.
Her gaze drifted over the wide expanse of his furred chest. The hair that curled crisply there was several shades of blond darker than the hair on his head. She lowered her gaze again, pausing painfully to linger on the vivid gash of a scar that marred his side.
A shudder wracked through her as she remembered Beau and Adam's return home after the raid and how desperately ill Beau h
ad been. Adam had been well on his way to recovery by the time they'd made port in Charleston, but Beau's wound had been far more serious and potentially deadly. In a burst of determined will that she hadn't managed to equal since, she had taken charge of everything. She'd ordered him brought to their home, and personally nursed him through the crisis of the infection that had set in. Becky thought of those long nights when she'd sat up beside him, praying for his recovery. It had been touch and go for a while, but her prayers had been answered. Beau had recovered.
Now, as she gazed at him, she knew it was time for her to convince him of the truth of her love for him. Her fingers fumbled awkwardly as she untied the knot at the belt of her wrapper. She had never known it could be so difficult to get undressed! When at last the concealing garment fell away and she stood in the middle of the floor clad only in her gown, Becky felt decidedly silly. She did not know how to go about seducing a man . . . especially a man as worldly as Beau Hamilton.
Resolved not to back down now, Becky gritted her teeth and took off her gown. Beautifully nude, she approached her bed . . . tentative . . . more than a little frightened . . . yet filled with the heat of her passion for him.
"Beau . . ." she whispered his name in a husky voice as she came to stand at the foot of the bed.
Beau had been sleeping soundly, but only because he'd retreated downstairs after everyone else had retired to make good use of Adam's well-stocked liquor cabinet. Ever since his close encounter with Becky in the study had luckily been interrupted, he'd been suffering a major feeling of guilt. She'd been so gorgeous and so tempting . . . he hadn't wanted to stop making love to her. That had been the source of his torment ever since, that and her bold proclamation as she'd entered the ballroom before him. She had said that she loved him, and for Beau, that made everything far too complicated. He cared for Becky a great deal, but love!
The sound of her voice came to him as if in a dream, and he frowned. Damn, but she managed to haunt him even in his sleep!
