Midnight Rose (16 page)

They walked along in silence for a few moments, and, as they approached the rear of the house, he realized she had slowed. He looked at her to see how her eyes had grown wide at the sight of the massive structure, how she just stood there, gazing in awe.

“I didn’t know it was so…so impressive,” she finally murmured. “How many rooms are there?”

“I haven’t thought about it lately. Last time I counted, there were about twenty.”

“My God!” She shook her head. “Unbelievable. What do you use them all for?”

“First floor has a ballroom. Two dining rooms, one large for formal dinners, the other is small, for regular family meals. There are two parlors, again, one large for company, and the other one small, intimate. My mother uses it to receive her friends for tea or whatever. Then there’s a library. A sewing room. Sun porch. A couple of rooms for serving food brought in from the outside kitchen. Upstairs there’s a wing on each end, two bedrooms adjoined by a sitting room, and three bedrooms each side, hall down the middle.”

He motioned for her to precede him up the back steps. “Would you like a grand tour?”

So far, she’d been able to hide her nervousness. Being near him ignited memories of the way he had held her, kissed her. She didn’t want to chance being alone with him in one of those twenty rooms. “I don’t think so,” she said finally. “There’ll be time for that later.”

Ryan was tired. He was also annoyed with her acting as if she was doing him a favor by her presence. “Is that the only reason you came?” he snapped. “To tell me you changed your mind? I figured you would, and you could have just written a note, or sent your mother. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got other things to do.” He took a step up.

“No,” she cried, not liking his attitude. “I wanted to let you know that two weeks from Sunday will be fine. I’m afraid Mother was a bit anxious, but she agrees with me there’s no real rush. Now, I’ll talk to Parson Knight and make the arrangements for a simple service in his parsonage. You can send for my trunks the day before, and…” Her voice trailed off as she saw the astonished way he was looking at her, as though he were about to explode in anger. “Is something wrong?” she asked.

“I think,” he said tightly, grasping her elbow firmly and abruptly steering her up the steps toward the back porch, “you do need to come inside, Miss Sterling, because I think it’s time we got a few more things settled besides the wedding date.”

“But—”

“This way!” he thundered, giving her a gentle shove into the house.

She saw they were in a small room, with cabinets on the wall filled with dishes of all sizes and quality. There were countertops below, a large table in the middle. It was, no doubt, the room where food was brought for serving.

He guided her from there down a narrow, dark hallway, and she became angrier by the moment at the way he was acting. Opening a door at the end, she was greeted with late afternoon sun streaming in through floor-to-ceiling windows. There was a huge stone fireplace at one end, the walls covered in mounted heads of deer, bear, wild hogs, and other creatures of the wild. The air smelled of tobacco and leather. He pointed to a sofa. “Sit.” Moving to a mahogany cabinet, he brusquely asked, “What would you like? Wine? A brandy? I can have Ebner bring tea, if you prefer.”

“Wine,” she told him, then rushed to protest, “I don’t know why you’re behaving like this, but I can’t see that we’ve anything else to discuss for the moment, and—”

“No, we aren’t going to discuss anything,” he said, pouring her wine. He handed her the glass, then declared icily, “I am going to talk, and you are going to listen.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You will.”

He sat down behind his desk, leaned back, and propped his boots on the edge. He allowed his gaze to rake her once more, as though committing her beauty to memory while he concentrated on the task at hand, which was informing her of her future place in his life. He took a long swallow of whiskey, then began. “First of all, two weeks from Sunday is fine, but the wedding will take place here, at Jasmine Hill, in the formal gardens. My mother is still in Europe, but I’ve other relatives—uncles, aunts, and cousins—I’ll want to invite. Then there are neighbors, friends. I don’t want anyone thinking this marriage is anything I’m ashamed of, which is what it would look like if we just went to the parson and said our vows. I do not want any hint that I was, shall we say, coerced into this marriage? The story will be that we met at the Rose Ball and fell madly, hopelessly in love on sight. We refused to let anything stand in the way of our getting married as quickly as possible.”

“But—” she tried to protest, but he shook his head and held up a hand for silence.

“Never interrupt me when I’m speaking, Erin. You need to learn that I demand respect in this house, from all my servants, and—”

“Now you wait a damn minute!” At that, Erin leaped to her feet, slinging the glass to the floor, neither noticing nor caring that wine splashed across the delicate pink skirt to stain. She was across the room in a flash, slamming her hands down on his desk, as she cried, “I am not going to be one of your servants, Ryan Youngblood. I am going to be your wife, which means
I
also demand respect. Furthermore, I don’t appreciate your sitting there like some kind of…of potentate, telling me you’ve made all the decisions about the wedding, who is to be invited, and the lies you plan to tell.”

His eyes narrowed as he waited for her to finish her diatribe, then he continued calmly as though she hadn’t spoken at all. “You will be accorded the rights and privileges of my wife by my servants, but you will serve me as they do. You’ll give me pleasure, and you’ll bear my children.”

“Oh, I’ll have your children,” she was quick to assure him, “because I want them, too, but as for your ‘pleasure,’ I suggest you find yourself the mistress you were looking for when you found out I wasn’t available!”

“A mistress?” He raised an eyebrow mockingly. “My dear, I don’t think you understand at all what I’m saying. I won’t need a mistress. I’ll have you. You’ll just be serving a dual purpose, however, when you bear my children.”

Erin exploded, “You are mad!”

“No,” he corrected with a gloating smile, “I’m afraid you’re the one who’s crazy, Erin, if you thought for one minute you were going to move into this house and make any demands. Get this straight—” He stood and leaned across the desk, only inches from her face. “Do you really think the only reason I agreed to marry you is because of your mother’s threat to scream to the entire state of Virginia that I tried to seduce her virginal daughter? Are you that naive? The fact of the matter is, I don’t give a damn what she says, and when you come to know me better, you’ll find out I don’t give a damn what anybody says.

“The reason I am marrying you,” he rushed on, nostrils flaring, enraged eyes locked with hers, “is because you drive me crazy wanting you, and marriage seems to be the only way I’ll have you, and believe me, my darling, I’ll have you any time I want you, anywhere, any place! And the sooner you understand that and accept it, the better off you’ll be.”

She slapped him.

Hard.

The sound of flesh striking flesh resounded in the silent wake of his harsh avowal.

For an instant, he merely maintained his position, not flinching or moving. Then, with a quick movement, he grabbed both her wrists and pulled her roughly across the desk. Papers, pens, books, everything went scattering to the floor as he dragged her, kicking and flailing, into his arms.

“Bastard!” she screamed, kicking her legs wildly as he held her wrists tightly with one hand behind her back.

Abruptly, he rolled her over to imprison her viselike with one arm, as his hand moved quickly between her thighs. He began to massage, lightly at first, in a circular motion. Feeling her legs become limber as delicious ecstasy began to needle, hearing the pleasured moan she could not hold back, he began to press harder with his fingertips, moving up and down.

Erin was on fire. As much as she despised him at that moment, there was no way she could resist, or fight, the betrayal of her body as it yielded to arousal. Her head lay back upon the desk, and faintly she was thankful he still held her one arm, lest she experience the further humiliation of wrapping her own about his neck and clinging to him. Closing her eyes, her breath was hot and ragged, bosom heaving with the thunderous pounding of her heart.

Ryan saw the way her nipples hardened, visibly straining against the thin fabric of her bodice. She wore no stays, no corset, unnecessary for a body so perfectly sculptured. He licked his lips in hungry anticipation.

The exquisite torture he was inflicting upon her was almost more than he could bear. God, how he wanted her. It was only with the greatest of self-control that he was able to resist the temptation to heave her up onto the desk and take her then and there. Instead, he methodically continued the savage, heated torment, wanting her to learn, once and for all, that he was truly her master, and she no more than a love slave.

She began to undulate her hips in complete surrender, all the while cursing and hating herself for being so weak.

Again, mustering every shred of self-control he possessed, Ryan sucked in a ragged breath and abruptly set her on her feet. He gave her bottom a pat and declared with mock seriousness, “Hey, for a second there, I almost forgot we’ve got to preserve your precious virtue, Miss Sterling.

“But don’t worry,” he goaded further, “I’ve got a good memory, in case you don’t. Should you be so unwise as to forget your place and lose that temper of yours again, I’ll remember what it takes to calm you down.”

She whirled away, embarrassed, humiliated, hating him and wanting him all in one breath, one heartbeat. She smoothed her skirt, at the same time attempting to soothe her dignity by remaining silent. God, there was so much she wanted to vent at that moment—call him ugly names, make vile accusations, utter threats of violence. Yet she resisted as she managed to hold her head up and walk swiftly, silently toward the door.

“Yes, I think it’s best you do take your leave now,” he called after her, amused at the way she was obviously struggling to keep from exploding all over again. “So, I’ll send Ebner to get your trunks, two weeks from Saturday, and I’ll write your mother a note as to what time I’ll set the wedding. I’ll see you then, Erin…my dear.”

She made her way out of the house, ignoring the opulent furnishings, the wide-eyed stares of several of the downstairs servants, and the butler, who discreetly glanced away as she passed.

Outside, in the golden haze of sunset against the shadowed trees to the west, Erin broke into a run across the velvet green lawn. Reaching her horse, she waved away the obliging groom who had hurried to help her mount. She’d ridden bareback, as usual, and hurled herself up angrily on the horse’s back.

Digging in her heels, she set the horse into a full gallop. Down the entrance road she charged, hair coming undone to whip wildly about her feverish face. Ahead, she saw the gate, a slave moving to open it to set her free to the curving road that would eventually take her from Jasmine Hill boundaries. Instead, feeling driven to escape Youngblood soil without delay, she took a shortcut, reining her horse to cross the wide span of lawn. Without hesitation, she urged him to jump the split-rail fence.

Erin was so mad she gritted her teeth till her jaw ached. Damn him, she wished she could forget the whole thing but knew that wasn’t possible. She had to go through with it for her mother’s sake, as well as her new devotion to the Free Soilers. Those considerations were tantamount.

Finally slowing the horse to a comfortable canter, she was struck by the realization that she hadn’t felt terror this time when Ryan touched her. Only anger. And, yes, pleasure, she had to admit. The memories of Zachary’s abuse had not returned to haunt her. As she thought about it, it became easy to understand how Ryan had only been salvaging his pride. What a blow it must have been to a man so strong-willed to be forced into a marriage he didn’t want. She also admitted to being partially responsible, even though her mother had done the actual “persuading.” After all, she and Letty had talked about how she should make him so crazy wanting her, he’d propose. Wasn’t that her motivation for meeting him when he’d asked her to?

Yes, she acknowledged, there were many things to be taken into consideration. She would marry him, of course, but he also had a few things to learn.

And one day, she vowed, Ryan Youngblood would learn she, too, could inflict sensual torture and humiliation. For if he thought he would ever succeed in relegating her to the lowly position of his love slave, as he’d taunted, he would realize he was sadly mistaken.

That day of retribution, she assured herself, would not be long in coming.

Ryan stood at the window and watched her go. He saw the way she expertly jumped her horse over the fence. She was a good rider. He was going to enjoy sharing his own love for horses with her in the future.

He saw her slow down and figured she was cooling off, getting over her anger. He had to admit he felt a little bad about what he’d done. But not much. After all, Erin was a schemer. He wanted her to know he was the master; he would never again be taken in by her guile.

He turned from the window with a wry smile. Sure, he’d shown her he was in control.

And all he had to do to maintain that control was to keep her from realizing he just might be falling in love with her.