LoverforRansom (13 page)

Nearby, Jenny timidly prepared to waltz with Andy.

“Are you ready?” Ransom asked, his voice but a silken
whisper.

“I don’t know,” Cathleen managed, but before she could finish
her sentence, Ransom began whirling her around the room.

Skirts swept against skirts in such a tight-fitting
conglomeration of dancers, the heart of pine floors disappeared in a wash of
taffeta and satin. Couples chattered all around them. The bass violin’s notes
reverberated in Cathleen’s chest. She lifted her eyes to Ransom’s, and for a
scant instant, she saw something there that hinted at promise, at an emotion
far deeper than desire. Straightaway, the look evaporated and a voracious
glimmer took its place, leaving Cathleen humming with sexual need.

“I’ve missed you,” she dared.

The muscle in his jaw clenched, making her regret her
emotional declaration.

“Have you been staying out of trouble?” he asked, changing
the topic of conversation.

A wisp of disappointment snaked through her but she wouldn’t
let him see what she’d risked. “Who, me?” she asked and batted her lashes
coquettishly. Good God, what was she becoming? Right before his eyes, she was
allowing herself to turn into one of those insipid fools who clamored
shamelessly for a man’s attention. She had to get a grip on her…
oh sweet
heavens
…her emotions.

But her flirting achieved results. He pulled her closer so
that only a hairsbreadth of distance remained between them. His legs pressed
into the bell of her hoop, causing her skirt to sway rhythmically with every
step of the dance.

“What would you say if I told you I’d taken advantage of
your absence to do the most scandalous things imaginable?” She couldn’t stop
herself.

He laughed, the sound as low and rich as the most decadent
chocolate. His cheek brushed her temple. His lips grazed her ear. “I suppose
I’d have to punish you.”

A tremor rattled her, almost causing her to falter in the
steps. She would have were it not for his steely arm around her waist. The
whirling couples around them blurred and ceased to exist. She could barely hold
his gaze as his eyes bored into hers. A question hung in his too intimate
stare, urging her to ask what he was thinking. She bit her lip to keep from
speaking the inquiry aloud.

Warring emotions battled inside her. The thought of meeting
him after the dance thrilled her, but opposing that, the knowledge they’d be
separated sometime in the future—probably forever—made tears burn her eyes. She
couldn’t sort it out.

She’d come here to teach, to educate.

She had
not
come here to…to fall in love.

Cathleen searched Ransom’s eyes, seeing the candlelight
reflected there and so, so much more.

This was impossible.

Instinct urged her to run, to board the first train back to
Boston. Desire compelled her to stay right there in his embrace.

All her life, she’d known what to do. How to act. She’d
always finished the task before her prior to moving on to the next. Indecision
and confusion had never plagued her.

Until this moment—this instant when she realized she was
hopelessly in love with Ransom Byrne.

“Come to me tonight,” he told her.

Her heart ran wild.

The waltz ebbed to an end and the men stepped back to bow to
their partners. Cathleen curtsied on weak knees and wobbled as she straightened.
She felt overwhelmed and confused. “I need some air,” she blurted, and dashed
from the dance floor despite Ransom’s call after her.

As she neared the rear entrance of the room, she glanced
back. He’d started after her but had been halted by a man with jutting white
whiskers who seemed determined to engage him in conversation.

Cathleen slipped out the back door and found herself in a
brick-paved courtyard, where she gulped a lungful of fresh air. With her hand
over her chest, she took several faltering steps toward the center of the area.

“Miss Ryan, is it?”

Shocked, Cathleen whirled to discover a woman who was every
bit as fair as she, Cathleen, was dark.

Two blonde ringlets meandered out of her jaunty black
fanchon bonnet, cascading with the ribbons over her shoulder and down into the
décolletage of her cherry-and-white-striped gown.

A black belt encircled her tiny waist, accentuating her
hourglass figure. She was magnificent. Beautiful.

And Cathleen knew, without a doubt, this was the Widow Bostick.

Cathleen felt sick.

Damn Aunt Chloe for lacing this infernal corset so
tightly.

“Y-yes,” Cathleen stammered.

“Harriet Bostick,” she introduced with a smile so dazzling
it made Cathleen want to shrink. Why did the widow have to be so breathtaking?

She stepped into the courtyard, flashing the toe of a
dainty, bow-trimmed black slipper as she descended the three brick stairs.

Cathleen could have dealt with meeting the widow any other
time except now. Why now?

“You’re Jenny’s teacher.” The widow’s smile indicated she
knew secrets.

Cathleen prayed Ransom hadn’t discussed their trysts with
this woman. Surely he wasn’t that callous. Oh, why wouldn’t the earth just go
ahead and swallow her up? She’d been a fool to think she could ever mean more
to Ransom.

Mrs. Bostick laughed. “My, but you must think me
impertinent. I’m an old—and
very dear
—friend of the family.”

I’m sure you are.
“It’s nice to make your
acquaintance,” Cathleen said. She hated the way her voice faltered. Most of
all, she hated the way her insides churned at the knowledge Ransom had done the
same things to this woman he’d done to her.

The widow’s gaze raked her from head to toe. “You’re hardly
the little mouse Ransom described.”

Little mouse?
The idea Ransom had discussed her with
this creature caused bile to rise in Cathleen’s throat. She swallowed it back
down and for the thousandth time tonight, wished her corset wasn’t so
confining. He’d called her a mouse? No wonder he’d always denied her when she’d
wanted to fully consummate their…

What exactly did they share? She wouldn’t call it a
relationship. He was hardly courting her. Thinking back, she’d suggested the
entire
thing
they had together. She had requested that he punish her,
that he touch her and kiss her. And not only had he been cold during their last
encounter, he made her leave before he’d attained satisfaction and had cut a
trail to get out of town.

She’d thoroughly shamed herself in front of him.

“A word of advice,” the widow purred. “Ransom Byrne is not a
marrying man.”

Cathleen started shaking. “I think you’ve mistaken my
intentions. I was hired to tutor Jenny.”

A little laugh rumbled in Mrs. Bostick’s throat. “There’s no
mistaking the look you were giving our
mutual
friend on the dance
floor.”

Cathleen’s lips parted. Had she been so obvious? God forbid
Ransom realized it.

A sinister smile played on the widow’s lips. “Nor is there
any mistaking the look of a woman in love.”

Cathleen curled her fingers into fists.

“I just wouldn’t want you to get your hopes up,” Mrs.
Bostick said condescendingly. “In the event Ransom hasn’t confided in you, as a
woman, I feel I must. He only hired you so you’d give his sister some purpose,
get her back out into society.”

“What do you mean?”

The widow leaned close. “You didn’t know? As soon as Jenny
is capable of performing day to day tasks, he’s planning to move west as soon
as possible.”

“Move?”

The widow nodded.

Panic blossomed in Cathleen’s breast. She’d been a fool. No
doubt. But she’d not let this woman bully her. She lifted her chin. “Mrs.
Bostick, you have the wrong idea about me. I’m not the type of woman who’d
lower her standards for a man in hopes of swaying his attentions with loose
behavior.”

“I wasn’t implying—”

The hell she wasn’t!
Cathleen didn’t give her an
opportunity to wheedle her way out of it. “Besides, Mr. Byrne is certainly not
the kind of man in whom I’d be interested at all.”

Mrs. Bostick gawped.

“It was a pleasure meeting you,” Cathleen ground out. “Now,
if you’ll excuse me…”

But as she swept by the widow, her gaze riveted to Ransom,
who stood on the back porch. Cathleen hesitated. His look was black. How much
had he heard?

It didn’t matter. She was done with him. She’d allowed
herself to be distracted from her cause. And at what cost?

Head down, she rushed past him and back into the house.

He didn’t follow.

Ransom debated his choices. Go after Cathleen. Or throttle
Harriet.

From what little he’d heard, Cathleen had handled herself
remarkably well. Icily, in fact.
Mr. Byrne is certainly not the kind of man
in whom I’d be interested at all.

He sucked in a breath through clenched teeth. The entire
time he’d been gone, all he could think about was Cathleen Ryan. Her
ridiculously austere mourning attire. Those eccentric-looking spectacles. Her
sighs. Her moans. Her kisses.

Her submission.

At some point, he realized she wouldn’t offer herself to him
that way if she didn’t trust him implicitly. The thought of it staggered him.

His admiration for her abilities as a teacher and a
companion for his sister only grew day by day. And in spite of her
troublemaking ways, the idea that she possessed strong convictions impressed
him. He’d once held such convictions about life, about horses, about people,
about ideals.

He’d tried to get away from her, from the long ago part of
himself her presence had revived. But he couldn’t. He didn’t want to.

And now he couldn’t imagine a life without her in it.

He’d returned to tell her just that, to lay claim to her—to
marry her.

Well, she’d made it known how she felt about that. He’d been
an idiot to think she would give up her aspirations to settle down on a farm in
Tennessee.

Yes, he’d deal with Cathleen in private.

As for Harriet…

“Can you believe it?” she asked, her voice carrying through
the courtyard. “That little mite is in love with you.”

Ransom shook with rage. He’d always known Harriet was a cat,
but he never expected this sort of venomous behavior. “Take care not to insult
Miss Ryan in front of me,” he said, his voice low but charged with warning.

Harriet’s lush lips parted. Her hand flew to her chest. “Oh
my!” She laughed. The sound of it made Ransom’s nerves crackle.

“Oh my,” she repeated. “Who’d ever have thought
you
,
Ransom Byrne, would lose his heart to a Yankee hireling.”

Ransom bit his tongue to keep from telling her exactly what
he thought of her petty ways.

She persisted. “I heard about the little talk she gave on
Jessie Peters’ daddy’s front porch. Frankly, I’m surprised Sissy would let you
keep such an upstart on the payroll. Aren’t you concerned she might have Jenny
getting ideas in her head about voting and
working
for a living?”

He shouldn’t dignify her with a response. He found it too
difficult to resist. “I find it admirable that a woman would seek to make her
own way in the world instead of dabbing it up with every man she can find in
hopes of ensnaring one to marry.”

Spite flashed in Harriet’s eyes. “Have you let her stay all
night in your bed,
lover
?”

“That’s enough.”

Harriet gathered her voluminous skirts and started back
inside. “Never mind. I was finished.” She pinned Ransom with a hard look. “And
so are we. I’ve wasted plenty enough time waiting for you to get over your
guilt.”

Ransom stepped aside to let her pass.

Harriet was wrong. Cathleen wasn’t in love with him. He’d
heard her words. More importantly, he’d spoken with her privately. She’d been
adamant she wasn’t the sort to marry. She’d told him so plainly enough.

And now that Jenny’s future held promise, the best thing he
could do was to head west before this insanity with Cathleen progressed any
further.

Cathleen breathed a sigh of relief as soon as Aunt Chloe
released her from the confines of her stays.

“Did Jenny have a good time at the ball?” Aunt Chloe asked,
draping the gown Cathleen had worn over a chair.

“She had a wonderful time,” Cathleen said, pulling on her
dressing gown.
Which is more than I can say for myself.

Aunt Chloe reached for the brush.

“I can manage to take my hair down,” Cathleen said. “Thank
you.”

Suppressing a yawn, Aunt Chloe nodded.

“Good night,” Cathleen told her.

“Night,” Aunt Chloe said and quietly left the room.

Cathleen dropped onto the stool of her dressing table and
buried her face in her palms. Tears sprang to her eyes but she refused to let
them fall. She had no one to blame but herself for making her look like a fool.

Come to me tonight.

Her stomach tightened at the memory of Ransom’s request. She
glanced toward the window and the door that led out onto the back balcony and
to the stairs she would have stolen down to go and meet Ransom.

Not tonight.

Not ever again.

She practically ripped the pins from her hair and then raked
the brush through the once fashionable curls. How could she have let this
happen? How could she have fallen for a man such as Ransom Byrne? He
represented everything she railed against.

And now to discover that he planned to move away as soon as
Jenny was stable…

Once she’d brushed her hair straight, she cupped her hand
over the lamp’s globe, blew out the flame and crawled into bed.

She wondered if Ransom was waiting for her. Twisting onto
her side, she tried to shut him out of her mind. The lump in her throat
wouldn’t go away but she wouldn’t give in. She would not cry.

She hadn’t gone into her licentious agreement with him in
hopes of anything but physical pleasure.

Without warning, the door to the balcony opened.

Gasping, Cathleen flipped over and sat. There was no
mistaking the hulking silhouette blocking the doorway.

Ransom.

“What are you doing?” he asked. “Why aren’t you—”

“Hush. You’ll wake the whole house.”

“I asked you to come to me.”

She gathered the covers over her bosom. “I’ve changed my
mind,” she whispered hotly.

He tramped into the room. Moonlight filtered in with him,
revealing he still wore the dark trousers he’d had on at the ball. He’d forgone
the frock coat and vest and now only wore a white shirt. He exuded sex and
Cathleen struggled to maintain control of her emotions.

“Changed your mind? Why?” he demanded. “Because of Harriet?”

Cathleen gulped. She didn’t respond.

“Get up. Come with me.”

“I told you to be quiet,” she bit out. “Do you want to wake Jenny?”

“I no longer give a goddamn who knows.” His eyes narrowed
into slits. He lunged forward, jerked back the covers and hauled her into his
arms, tossing her over his shoulder as if she weighed no more than a sack of
grain.

“Put me down,” she hissed.

He ducked out the door and carried her down the stairs. Once
they reached the ground, and it became apparent he was intent on carrying her
all the way to his house, Cathleen began to struggle.

“Let me go. I don’t want to go with you,” she said,
continuing her barrage of heated whispers.

He merely grunted and trudged on, despite her flailing arms
and legs. Anger fueled with need blazed through her limbs and just as he neared
his house, she landed a kick to his groin.

A muffled “oof” came from his gut and he dropped to his
knees in the grass. Cathleen’s attempts to escape were foiled when he wrangled
her like a calf and then flung himself on top of her to keep her from fighting.

She pushed at his shoulders and tried to gain leverage with
her bare feet, but his body pressed into hers in all the wrong places. He was
deliciously heavy and his evident arousal cutting into the soft flesh of her
abdomen made her want to give in.

“Damn it, Cathleen,” he said, finally able to form words.
“Be still.”

She shoved his shoulders once more and looked up at him.
“You…you told her I was…a…a mouse.”

“I lied.”

Alarm thundered through her when he growled and roughly
wrenched up her nightrail so he could wedge his hand between their bodies.

“Ransom!” Cathleen cried, but he silenced any further
protest by covering her mouth with his own.

Her traitorous hips tilted toward his probing fingers.
Dampness betrayed her desire.

Breathless, he dragged his lips from hers, reaching between
them to work the buttons on his fly.

“What are you doing?” she demanded, her voice rising in
pitch.

“Shut up, Cathleen.”

Stunned, she gaped as the head of his cock raked through her
folds, parting her. Her eyes grew wide. He was going to take her!

Did he mean to claim her virginity right here on the ground?
His eyes met hers and, even in the dark, she could read the question there.
Though he clearly didn’t want to, he would stop if she requested it.

She debated, but only for an instant.

Wild passion crackled as she threaded her fingers in his
thick hair and pulled his head down. It was all the impetus he needed. Just as
their lips fused, he thrust inside her.

Growing rigid, she gasped in his mouth as a brief moment of
pain fired through her, but he didn’t stop. Stretching her, he filled her until
his pelvis touched hers.

This was it. She’d done the unthinkable. She’d allowed him
to
ruin
her.

So why didn’t she feel ruined?

She felt…
cherished
.

He held still and kissed her until she relaxed, and then he
withdrew, pushed himself up, gathered her into his arms and carried her inside.
He didn’t stop until he lay her on his bed.

Cathleen pulled her nightgown off over her head and flung it
in the floor. He came to her once more, kissing her as they both undressed him.
His body seemed fevered and restless. So did hers.

Love for him mingled with erotic need, and the heady mixture
intoxicated her. She brushed her palms over his bare chest as his shirt
slithered down his arms to the floor. She explored the hard planes of his back
and hips as he wrested free of his trousers and kicked out of them.

This time, when he joined her, there was no pain. Only the
fullness, the insistent stretch that left her without a doubt who dominated
her, who claimed her. She cried out and burrowed her short nails into his back.
Every moment, every slow slide of his phallus awakened tissue inside her that
had never been touched until this moment.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured against her throat as he peppered
it with kisses. “I’m sorry. I can’t be gentle with you. God, Cathleen…” His
hips pumped rhythmically, transporting her to some other realm where only
pleasure existed.

Tears streamed from the corners of her eyes. Joy and bliss
welled so hard in her heart she feared she couldn’t contain it.

His movements quickened. He reared above her, the muscles in
his arms bulging and rippling as he braced himself. Seeming incapable of
restraint, he thrust into her, one punishing surge after another until his face
contorted. A low groan tore from his throat as he hastily withdrew his cock so
that his seed spilled onto her belly.

“Cathleen.” He whispered her name before his fingers
threaded into the hair at her nape and he collapsed on top of her.

His mouth sought hers and his once ardent kisses turned so
tender, more tears spilled from Cathleen’s eyes.

“Did I hurt you?” he asked, lifting his head and brushing
one of her tears away with the pad of his thumb.

She shook her head. God, she couldn’t think with his
still-hard cock pressing against her belly.

“You’re crying.”

She sniffed. She couldn’t talk. She couldn’t admit the
reason for her tears was because she was in love with him. Some part of her
realized she’d never again be as happy as she was in this moment.

He dipped his head and kissed every inch of her neck and
then traced her collarbone with his lips. “I couldn’t stay away from you,” he
admitted.

“Don’t tease me,” she uttered. Her channel clenched, aching
to feel him inside once more.

He gazed down at her. “I don’t know what Harriet said to
you, but she doesn’t
know
me.”

Cathleen couldn’t bear to make eye contact with him. She
feared he’d see too much.

“She doesn’t know
us
,” he said.

Cathleen’s lashes fluttered as she opened her eyes. Was he
admitting that he had feelings for her? She didn’t dare hope.

A smile played at one corner of his mouth. “You’re far too
practical for any of the nonsense Harriet was going on about.”

“P-practical?”

“Love and marriage.”

Cathleen’s hopes crumbled to dust around her.

He traced her bottom lip with his thumb. “Your ideas about
marriage haven’t changed…have they?”

She shook her head. “No.”
Tell him! Tell him you’re in
love with him!
She opened her mouth to speak, but he spoke first.

“She doesn’t know about our agreement,” he said. “You’re a
realist, Cathleen. Sound minded. I like that about you.”

Realistic? He’d evidently complimented her, but his
seemingly kind words struck her like a dagger to the heart. She drew in a deep
breath but it did little to lessen the aching in her chest.

He moved down her body and latched onto one of her breasts.
His tongue swept around her nipple, flicking it to life. An invisible chord of
desire fused between the hardening tip and her clitoris. All coherent thought
evaporated as his thumb began to press and circle the needy bud between her
legs.

“I could fuck you the rest of the night,” he promised then moved
to the other breast.

Heat swirled through her being. She reached for his hips and
tilted hers upward in an unspoken invitation. He moved over her again and this
time, his cock penetrated her easily. “Oh,” she managed as he thrust all the
way in, awakening those muscles all over again.

“Your cunny feels so good inside,” he said in her ear. “So
tight.”

He angled his body so that his groin created pressure and
friction on her most sensitive parts. She spread her thighs until they burned
from the strain. Need consumed her and all thoughts of love and her future
slipped away as her body claimed control of her conscious.

“I’ve wanted to be inside you for so long,” he murmured.

Awash in his sensual declarations and the feel of his body
moving over and into her, Cathleen clung. Her senses soared. This pleasure
coupled with her love for him rendered moot every thought to which she’d
heretofore subscribed. How could he say these things and do these things to her
and not feel the same way she did?

“Your body was made for mine. Feel how we fit together.” His
words rained over her.

One of his hands slipped behind her neck and he anchored her
as he drove into her. Groin slapped groin in rapid succession. She held fast to
his iron-hard biceps, opening her thighs impossibly wider to accept thrust
after punishing thrust. Ecstasy ratcheted increasingly higher. She teetered on
the edge of it, willing herself to fall. Almost…

“Let it happen,” he commanded through clenched teeth. “Come
for me, Cathleen.”

As if his words had worked a magic spell, bliss shattered
her, erupting from where they were connected to detonate through every limb,
shooting shards of pleasure to her toes, her fingers, her scalp. “Ransom!” His
name came out in one forceful breath.

He continued to pummel her until she became mindless, and
then again, he pulled out, snatched her hand and guided her to finish him. Her
fingers closed around his slick shaft. After two strokes, he groaned and his
seed unfurled like a shimmering white ribbon across her belly and between her
breasts.

Breathless, he sagged, lying half on top of her. He cupped
one of her breasts possessively and pressed a lazy kiss to her earlobe. “You
looked so beautiful tonight,” he said softly. His warm, whiskey-tinged breath
fanned her shoulder.

“I didn’t think you were coming,” she said, trying to absorb
everything that had just happened. “It meant so much to Jenny that you were
there.”

He cleared his throat. “I wasn’t there to see Jenny.”

In stunned silence, Cathleen tensed. How could he say these
things and then inform her that he never intended to marry? Confusion muddled
her thoughts. “I don’t…I don’t understand,” she stammered.

He chuckled and pushed off her. “Neither do I.”

She remained on the bed while he dipped a cloth into the
basin on his washstand. Even in darkness, he was magnificent. His body looked
as if it had been sculpted by the gods.

He returned with the wet cloth and climbed back onto the
bed. Cathleen watched his face as he lay on his side and tenderly bathed the
traces of their lovemaking away.

How could he be so caring, so gentle with her if he intended
to ride away and never see her again?

She searched his eyes.
I love you.

Her lips parted. She had to tell him. She had to.

But reality slammed her hard. He was planning to leave. He
wasn’t looking for permanence. Far from it. Besides, she had important work to
do and he’d made his feelings quite clear on her ideas about equality.

She’d foolishly allowed her physical reaction to him to get
in her way, for if by some improbable chance they were to marry, she’d resent
him the minute he required her to become a farmer’s wife with no political
aspirations.

“I can’t keep my hands off you,” he told her and kissed her
so deeply it made her toes curl. “Or my lips.”

She refused to think as he continued to kiss every inch of
her body. Her mouth, her face, her ears and neck. He paid special attention to
each breast and then moved lower to nuzzle and kiss her belly. When he
shouldered between her legs, she parted her thighs and threaded her fingers
into his hair as he lowered his head and carried her to ecstasy yet again.