Andrea Kane (9 page)

Braden smiled, remembering the description he had given of his someday wife to Cyril. A woman he both liked and respected. Well, Kassie was certainly that … and more. Much more. In fact, the more Braden thought about it, the more appealing the idea began to seem. After all, someday he would have to marry and produce an heir to Sherburgh.

An heir. An immediate image sprang to mind … of Kassie, in his bed and in his arms. She would be his wife, and he could at last indulge himself in the incredible fascination she held for him. He could imagine every detail of it. The picture was so clear, so strong, that he could almost feel her, taste her, hear her begging him to …

To what?

Braden forced the reality of the situation to the forefront of his mind. He could still recall the way Kassie had flinched when he had taken her into his arms. The only things she knew of touching were brutality and pain. She knew nothing of passion, of mutual desire and sensual pleasure. How could he expect her to eagerly anticipate an act she was bound to find frightening and invasive? Not to mention painful. For no matter how much time he took with her, no matter how thoroughly and tenderly he loved her, Braden knew that there had to be pain the first time. And how could he explain to her that it was her duty to succumb to his needs, to come to his bed and perform the role of his wife? Wouldn’t she view that as physical domination, the very thing that she was desperate to escape?

Braden drew a deep, painful breath, once again facing his own feelings honestly. He had been drawn to her from the start, but since that day at her cottage it was more … much more.

He wanted her. In every way that a man wants a woman, he wanted her. Underneath him. Surrounding him. Naked and clinging. Calling out his name, coming apart in his arms. The mere image made him harden, made desire pour through him like a sea of fire. And that was only the thought of it.

With a groan Braden leaned back against the cushions of the carriage. Before he asked Kassie to be his wife he had to be quite certain that he could endure the consequences. Because as sure as he was that Kassie cared for him, he was equally certain that she was not yet ready for a real marriage, to be one in body as well as name. So if they were wed, Braden would have to steel himself to something he hadn’t faced since his fourteenth birthday: prolonged celibacy. He could not risk hurting Kassie physically by taking her to his bed, nor would he hurt and humiliate her emotionally by seeking relief with other women. Oh, the latter choice was more than acceptable among the male members of the
ton,
but Braden knew without asking that it would be totally
un
acceptable to his principled Kassandra.

In truth, forgoing intimacy with other women presented no major problem to Braden. Of late, he spent every moment in their beds fantasizing about Kassie, imagining that it was she he was holding, loving. No, the real problem would be Kassie herself. Or, rather, controlling himself around her. Would he be able to endure the torture of living with her and yet not making her his?

In the end there was really no choice to be made. The need to protect her, to see her smiling and happy, was more powerful than any reservations Braden might have.

All at once he was quite eager to be home. He sat up straighter, pleased to see that the carriage was nearing the gates of Sherburgh. Knowing that Kassie was there, safe and waiting for him, gave him a sense of joy and a feeling of lightness.

Braden grinned. It seemed not to be his decision to make after all. Fate had determined his future one warm June night, three years past, on a deserted beach.

“Thank you so much, Mr. Graves.” Kassie handed the empty water glass back to Charles with a smile.

In the hours since Braden had left she had managed to regain a modicum of self-control. The warm bath had helped, together with the soothing ministrations of a motherly chambermaid named Margaret. Perkins had done his job as well, magically producing a simple gray muslin gown and slippers for her to wear. He had apologized profusely for the gown’s modest design, looking stunned when Kassie had thanked him with tears in her eyes.

The truth was, she was unused to so much kindness. Even now, refreshed and seated in Sherburgh’s impressive drawing room, Kassie was amazed by the doting attention she was receiving from Charles Graves, who paced back and forth, pausing to stare at her with concern, and Lord Cyril Sheffield, who was seated beside her on the sofa, asking her time and again what she needed and would she prefer to lie down?

And soon Braden would return, making the dream castle complete.

“Are you certain I can’t convince you to eat something more?” Charles asked her, placing the glass upon the table beside the settee.

Kassie laughed. “If I eat another morsel, I shall certainly explode,” she returned. She did not add that she had never seen so much food in one sitting. Sherburgh’s good-natured cook had prepared a huge breakfast, complete with both meat and fish dishes, piles of fluffy eggs, and the most mouth-watering strawberry tarts Kassie had ever tasted. She soon discovered that despite her earlier trauma she was quite famished, and she proceeded to devour an inordinate amount of food while enjoying the pleasurable company of Braden’s uncle and Mr. Graves.

“You really should lie down, Miss Grey,” Cyril said for the fifth time, studying Kassie’s pale, bruised face.

She turned and gave him a warm smile. “I shall … in a bit. But I would prefer to wait. …” Her eyes went to the empty doorway.

“Braden will be returning soon,” Cyril assured her. “But he will be very angry with me for allowing you to overtax yourself.”

Kassie gave a merry laugh. “I have hardly overtaxed myself, my lord. In fact, I have done nothing but indulge myself in your kind hospitality.”

He frowned, his gaze still fixed on her. “Nevertheless, you look quite peaked. Some sleep might refresh you.”

“Goodness! Do I look that dreadful?” Kassie teased with mock offense.

Cyril was instantly contrite. “Of course not. You couldn’t possibly look anything but lovely. But you have been through quite an ordeal.”

Kassie’s eyes dropped beneath his questioning stare. She was still not ready to discuss the events that had brought her to Sherburgh.

Cyril mistook her reaction for disbelief of his words. “Miss Grey,” he said, “I assure you that your radiance is in no way marred by your … injuries. You have much the look of your mother, and as I recall, she was a rare and incomparable beauty.”

Kassie looked up in surprise. “You knew my mother?”

Cyril nodded. “I knew both your parents, actually. Only casually, of course. We traveled in … different circles,” he added diplomatically.

Kassie flushed. If Lord Cyril knew her father, then he must also know what he had deteriorated into.

“Of course, I haven’t seen your father for some time now,” Cyril continued, as if reading her mind. “From what I understand, he became rather reclusive once your mother died.”

Kassie gave him a grateful look. “He loved my mother very much,” she said softly. “Her death came as quite a blow to him.”

“I imagine it did,” he sympathized.

Charles headed abruptly across the room and poured himself a drink. “We ought to change the subject,” he suggested in a tight voice. “Miss Grey is upset enough as it is.”

Cyril looked startled. “Of course, Charles, you are quite right.” He stood, smiling. “Come, Miss Grey. Let me summon a maid to take you to your room. You can at least rest until Braden returns.”

Just as Kassie opened her mouth to reply the sound of an approaching carriage interrupted her.

“Braden,” she murmured eagerly, her gaze going to the door once more.

Moments later the object of her wait walked into the room. His eyes immediately sought Kassie out, and seeing that she was well, he visibly relaxed.

“Are you all right?” Kassie asked anxiously.

Braden blinked, then began to chuckle. “I believe you have things backwards. It is I who should be asking that question of you.”

Kassie did not return his smile, for she knew where Braden had been. After a moment he nodded.

“All is well, as I promised you it would be.” He glanced at Cyril and Charles. “Would you excuse us, please? I would like to speak with Kassie alone.”

Both men looked somewhat surprised but quickly recovered and did as Braden requested, exiting the room.

Braden waited until they had gone before he spoke.

“I saw your father,” he began without preamble.

“Yes,” she replied in a half whisper, “I guessed as much.”

He placed both hands on her narrow shoulders, looking down into her questioning aqua eyes. “You will never have to deal with him again.” He shook his head at her panicked expression. “I did not touch him, although I was sorely tempted to kill him on the spot. I simply struck an … agreement with him.”

“You paid him.” She dropped her eyes to the floor, shame washing over her in great waves.

Braden flinched at her sad, humiliated little voice. He caught her chin in his hand and raised her face, forcing her to meet his gaze once more. “Listen to me, Kassie. I would do anything—
anything
—to get you away from that house. I merely negotiated a deal with your father, gave him something he wanted in return for something I want.”

Kassie’s eyes were bright with unshed tears. “What could he possibly have that you would want?”

“You.”

She started at the firmly stated answer, met his unwavering gaze, and found nothing but truth in it.

“Me?” she echoed softly, explosions of pure pleasure erupting in her heart.

Braden nodded. “Yes, my beautiful Kassie, you. I want you to stay here, to make Sherburgh your home, to be with me and … what have I said?” He looked stunned as she turned away, her face strained with indecision.

“You want me to stay here … with you,” she repeated. Swallowing, she knew the time had come to compromise her principles. She would have a home, security … and Braden, no matter for how brief a time. It was worth it.

She turned back to him, her head held high.

“I understand what you expect of me.” She couldn’t help flinching at the implication of her words.

Braden saw the flinch and was more convinced than ever that his earlier decision to leave the marriage unconsummated was the right one. It was obvious that the mere thought of being intimate with him made her cringe. He opened his mouth to reassure her but had no time to respond before Kassie continued.

“I have no experience at being a mistress, nor am I exactly certain what my duties would be,” she told him in her usual forthright manner, “but I shall try not to disappoint you.”

Braden burst out laughing. “I am delighted to hear that. However, I am not asking you to be my mistress, sweetheart, I am asking you to be my wife.”

Kassie’s mouth fell open. “Your wife?” she breathed, wondering if she had died and gone to heaven.

Braden smiled and took her hands in his. “If you will have me.” He kissed her fingertips. “Miss Grey,” he murmured, holding her stunned gaze with his tender one, “would you do me the supreme honor of becoming my wife?”

“Braden, you don’t have to.” She owed it to him to make one attempt to release him from his commitment.

“I want to.”

“So do I.”

He gave her a dazzling smile. “I take it that means yes?”

Kassie had no intention of giving fate another chance to change its course.

“Yes, Braden, that means yes.”

K
ASSIE RUBBED THE SOFT
lace folds between her fingers, staring, transfixed, at her reflection in the full-length mirror. Could that fairy-tale creature in yards of exquisite satin really be she?

Margaret stepped away from her with a proud smile. “There now, m’lady, you are as beautiful a bride as ever there could be,” she declared.

In the whirlwind week that had preceded the wedding Margaret had taken Kassie under her wing and eased the bewildered girl into her soon-to-be role as the Duchess of Sherburgh. An instant rapport had sprung up between Kassie and the plump, motherly Margaret, and it was, therefore, an uncontested assumption that Margaret would continue as Kassie’s lady’s maid after the wedding.

Now the beaming maid pinned the fragrant wreath of blue and white wildflowers onto Kassie’s hair, clucking her approval as the vibrant headdress stood out against the gleaming black tresses and enhanced the startlingly vivid color of Kassie’s eyes.

“You will make His Grace very proud,” Margaret said, squeezing Kassie’s shoulders.

Kassie’s eyes met Margaret’s in the mirror. “Will I?” she asked in a small, hopeful voice, her gaze returning dreamily to her own image. She had to admit that she had never looked better. But then, who wouldn’t look ravishing in a gown that had cost a small fortune to make?

She still wasn’t quite sure how Braden had managed everything so quickly. All she knew was that she had been measured, over and over, by countless simpering
modistes
who had displayed a breathtaking array of hues and fabrics for her to choose from. And since Braden had insisted the wedding take place in one week’s time, a dozen seamstresses had been hired to complete the new wardrobe selected by the future Duchess of Sherburgh. Not to mention the five dance instructors who had been engaged to teach Kassie every fashionable step, from the quadrille and the Scotch reel to the minuet and, of course, the wonderfully intimate waltz.

The frenzied pace had left Kassie little time for sleep … and no room for nightmares.

“Of course! His Grace will be captivated by you!” Margaret answered definitively, brushing an imaginary speck off of the glittering silver and white creation that swirled about Kassie in shimmering layers of lace. The loyal older woman stepped back and nodded her certainty. “It is time,” she announced, guiding Kassie toward the door.

Kassie dimpled. “That sounds so ominous,” she teased.

“No, m’lady,” Margaret pronounced, shaking her head. “The way His Grace looks at you, I have no doubt that you will be happy. Now come—the duke must be anxious.”

The duke was as jumpy as a new colt.