Sundancer (Cheyenne Series) (20 page)

      
Roxanna could sense a subtle change in Cain's demeanor as they took their seats at the table. He had been guarded and distant ever since they had met for the ceremony, but he had almost always been that way. Only for those brief moments in the Cheyenne camp had he let her inside the wall he so carefully erected around his heart. He desired her but acted as if he resented it. If so, why had he asked her to marry him in the first place?

      
Pity? She shuddered. No, her husband did not pity a woman he considered to be a spoiled headstrong child born to privilege. He simply wanted her as he said, and the only way he could have a woman like Alexa Hunt was through marriage. Of course, he had never spoken of love, but she had cherished the dream of teaching him to love her...to heal her. Would she have the chance—or would Isobel poison their relationship before it even began?

      
The first course of the bridal feast Jubal had ordered was set before her and sparkling pale gold champagne was poured. The men raised their glasses in a toast to her. Roxanna smiled and sipped. The expensive wine tasted like vinegar on her tongue.
Don't let Isobel Darby ruin this marriage. She's destroyed everything else in my life,
she pleaded silently, wholly uncertain if her prayer would be heeded.

      
As they ate dinner, Cain watched Alexa push small pieces of the roasted squab around on her plate, eating scarcely a bite of the hearty feast. By the time the traditional wedding cake was sliced and served, it was apparent that she could eat nothing more. “I think this has been a long day for Alexa. If you'll excuse us, Jubal?” he asked the old man as he pushed back his chair.

      
MacKenzie's florid face reddened in embarrassment as he nodded to Cain. “I have those architect's blueprints for the bridge to review yet,” he harrumphed, all too aware of the bride's nervousness. “I'll see you in the morning—not too early,” he hurriedly added, then flushed again as she kissed his cheek.

      
“Good night, Grandfather,” Roxanna said with a grave smile. If only he knew the real reasons she was so terrified! Cain's arm felt strong and reassuring as he guided her through the hotel lobby, stopping only to pick up the key for their suite at the desk. The clerk, an elderly man with a harelip and close-set eyes the color of rusty nails, handed it to him disdainfully as if he were a British butler forced to serve a chimney sweep.

      
With every step nearer their quarters, Roxanna's tension grew until she was wound tightly as a wire on a reel. Cain unlocked the door and let it swing in on well-oiled hinges, then suddenly reached down and scooped her up in his arms. As her arms encircled his neck she gasped in surprise. He said gruffly, “It's traditional,” then walked over the threshold into the sitting room with her holding on to him for dear life. She always felt so safe in his arms.
Never let me go, Cain.

      
But as soon as he stood in the center of the room he deposited her on the carpet and stepped back, letting his eyes sweep over her, from the small pale pink feathered hat perched atop her carefully pinned-up curls to her matching pink dress of silk pongee, cut in the latest fashion with a bustled train trimmed with delicate Austrian lace. The soft color deepened her turquoise eyes and highlighted the gilded splendor of her hair. Although cut demurely high, the bodice of the dress clung seductively to the swell of her breasts and the skirt hinted at the curves of her hips.

      
“You're beautiful,” he said hoarsely.

      
Roxanna met his eyes and saw the banked fires in their ebony depths. He was beautiful too, severe yet sensual in black, with only the sheer snowy lawn of his shirt for accent. He wore those same sapphire cuff links and studs that she had noted the night of the ball and she imagined pulling them out, revealing that bronzed chest with its springy black hair. Her mouth went dry as she studied the harsh lines of his face. Unable to speak, she stepped hesitantly closer to him and reached up, letting one fingertip lightly graze the scar on his cheek.

      
His hand, large and dark, enveloped hers as he pressed it to his mouth, inhaling the faint scent of lilacs that clung to her skin. Her pulse thrummed frantically through the delicate blue veins of her wrist. Taking a deep breath, he placed both his hands around hers and held it between them like a pledge.

      
“I know you're frightened, Alexa. I've never taken a virgin before, but I'll go slow and try to make it good for you.”

      
She placed her other hand on his. “Yes,” she replied simply, studying the contrast between his long dark fingers intertwined with her small white ones. Soon their naked bodies would be similarly intertwined. A spark of the heat and urgency in him seemed to leap to her. As he drew her toward the adjoining bedroom, she tried to banish from her mind Isobel Darby and the threat she presented. If all else was snatched away from her, she would have this night with Cain, her husband.

      
The bedroom was commodious with a large oval cheval looking glass standing in one corner and a chest-on-chest of carved oak against the far wall. A royal blue carpet covered the new pine floor planks. A large four-poster bed dominated the room. The coverlet of deep gold satin had been turned back, revealing pristine white sheets. Roxanna stared nervously at the sensuous invitation of the bed until Cain broke the spell by brushing the side of her neck with his lips.

      
“Take off that hat and I'll be your lady's maid,” he whispered.

      
She stepped over to the mirror and dug into the fluffy pink feathers, extracting the ten-inch hatpin which held the concoction in place. When she placed it on a table with trembling hands, Cain came up behind her and began to remove the pins from her hair until it spilled like molten mercury down her back. As she stared at their image in the glass, he took a fistful of curls and held them to his cheek, rubbing the fragrant softness against his skin.

      
The subtlety of the caress warmed her. His hands, amazingly adept with tiny hooks and button loops, unfastened her gown and lifted it in a fluffy cloud over her head. He untied the tapes of her petticoats and let them fall to the floor. Then he began unlacing her corset cover while his lips nuzzled her bare shoulder. His dark head bending over her pale flesh reflected starkly in the mirror as the last dying rays of sunset came trickling through the lace window curtain across the room.

      
Roxanna reached up with one hand and buried her fingers in his hair, pulling him closer until she could feel a faint tremor pass through him. He desired her with a fierce savage passion yet held himself in check. She realized with a bittersweet pang that he did not want to frighten her.

      
“Why do women wear these infernal contraptions?” he murmured as he tossed her corset onto the carpet. “You don't need it.” As if to illustrate his point, his hands encircled her waist, massaging the sensitive flesh of her sides and belly through her chemise. Frissons of heat spiraled in her stomach at the touch of his fingers and her breath caught raggedly.

      
Cain smiled against the silk of her hair. She was left standing clad only in her sheer batiste chemise and pantalets. He turned her to him to study the perfection of her body directly. Even the mirror could not do her justice.

      
“Just as I remembered at the water's edge—your legs, the curve of your hips, the sweet turn of ankle so delicate it shouldn't hold up a butterfly,” he said hoarsely.

      
“I'm not that fragile, Cain,” she replied, resting her hands on his chest. He was still fully dressed and she stood practically naked in her high heels!

      
As if reading her thoughts, he picked her up and carried her to the big bed, laying her carefully on the plumped-up pillows. He sat down beside her and took the calf of her leg in his hand, sliding off her silk slipper, then peeling down the filmy stocking. He repeated the process with her other leg. When he turned to pull his own boots off, she quickly seized the edge of the bedsheet and pulled it over herself. Her previous experience with being undressed before a man was nothing like Cain's slow savoring reaction to her body, yet she felt the lingering scars which made her want to hide herself.

      
He did nothing to discourage her nervous modesty. Instead he stood up and shrugged off his jacket, then began removing the sapphire studs from his shirt and cuffs, knowing she was watching him. With his back still turned to her, he said, “I like the feel of those turquoise eyes on me.”

      
Roxanna flushed and squeezed them closed. He chuckled, a rich, low sound. She could not resist peeping.

      
“You wanted to watch me undress at the river. Now it's legal.” Cain turned to give her a view of his dark chest as he slipped his shirt off and tossed it after his jacket and the jewelry. He started to reach for his fly and her lashes fluttered down once more. “You weren't this shy when I was naked and unconscious in Sees Much's lodge.”

      
‘That was different,” she replied, staring at the ceiling. “You were injured...you weren't watching me...”

      
“Watching you?” he supplied with a smile. “Yeah, I remember how you took off when I woke up.” He changed his mind about taking off his pants just yet. Instead he sat down on the bed beside her once more.

      
She turned to him, determined not to act like a vaporing virgin when she was nothing of the sort. But the fear was no act. She was afraid of what she felt for this enigmatic man who had wed her for his own mysterious reasons. And afraid of what he would learn about her all too soon.

      
Cain reached for her hand that clutched the sheet and lifted it to his chest, pressing it against the solid thud of his heart, which accelerated at her touch. “A woman has a great deal of power over a man, Alexa, if she learns how to use it.”

      
Not the way I was initiated
, she wanted to cry, but did not. This would be completely different. He had promised to try to make it good for her. She believed he would. “Teach me what to do,” she said, wanting to learn all there was to learn about the mystery of husbands and wives...and love.

Chapter Ten

      
“Just be yourself, Alexa...” he murmured, bending down to press his lips to her throat, then to her ear, teasing the lobe between his teeth gently and flicking his tongue inside the delicate interior. “You have passion. I can sense it inside you...deeply buried...just waiting to be set free... Trust me, don't be afraid.” His low mesmerizing words were punctuated by soft brushing kisses along her neck to the frantically fluttering pulse at the base of her throat.

      
Roxanna felt soothed by the melodic cadence of his voice, the solid thud of his heartbeat, the warm hard pressure of his body. Of their own volition her arms wound around his neck, pulling him closer. She remembered the feel of his mouth on her breasts, suckling, teasing, making them ache. Would he do that again? Her body arched in anticipation when his lips trailed kisses to the lacy edge of her chemise, brushing the sheer fabric lower, pulling the drawstring so the neckline gaped open. The air touched her bare breasts and her nipples shrank into sharp points as if crying out for the heat of his mouth.

      
Cain too remembered touching her breasts, feasting on their pale creamy beauty. He raised his head and pulled away the opened chemise, cupping one small perfect globe in his hand, teasing the tip with thumb and finger, watching her body arch convulsively. “You like this, don't you, Alexa?” She whimpered, turning her head into the pillow and digging her nails into his shoulders, urging him to suckle her. He needed no further invitation, taking one nipple in his mouth and gently massaging the other one with his thumb.

      
After pleasuring both of them, he said raggedly, “I never saw breasts so lovely.” His intent gaze swept up to her flushed face with thick pale lashes shielding her eyes. She was strung out tight, frightened and hungry all at once. He knew because he felt the same way—for completely different reasons. Sexual pleasure was as familiar to him as breathing, yet he knew coupling with this woman would be different. He had desired her the first moment he had laid eyes on her, that had been no lie. But he feared how much, how intensely that desire drove him to need this—to need her. Desire was familiar, yes, but need was not.

      
She moved restlessly beneath him, tossing her head. Her hair slid across the pillows like shimmering quicksilver. He gave up trying to read more from her face and turned his attention back to her body. With a few deft motions, he unfastened the drawstring to her pantalets and pulled the frilly underwear low on her hips, then kissed and nipped a soft wet trail down to her navel. When the tip of his tongue dipped inside the tiny indentation, he could feel her quiver like a finely tuned violin string. Smiling against the silk of her belly he raised his head, retracing the path back to her breasts, then up to take her mouth once more in a deep slow kiss.

      
Roxanna let her tongue dart out to touch his, timidly at first, then with increasing boldness when he growled his approval deep inside her mouth. The shocking tantalizing things he had done to her body set her senses clamoring for more in spite of her fear. She was on fire, filled with an inexplicable longing she could never have imagined before.

      
When her tongue twined with his, sensuously sliding into his mouth, Cain was almost undone. His body, held under such rigid restraint as he slowly wooed her, now demanded surcease. He knew nothing about virgins but a great deal about women. She was ready...yet not. He could still sense a reticence in her. The residue of virginal fright? She did not know what went on between men and women. He would teach her. The thought gave him pause, for implicit in the pride of possession was the responsibility to care for a woman such as this.
Go slow. Don't frighten her with your passion until you can make her share it.