Patricia Rice (21 page)

Wyatt murmured reassurances, but she was beyond hearing
them. When he removed his invading hand, she cried in protest, but he was quick
to find her breast and distract her as he shifted position again, nudging her
legs a little wider.

She knew what he was doing the instant he entered her, but
she was too far gone to offer even a token denial. She drowned in the wine of
his kiss and lifted her legs under his gentle touch and allowed the blunt
pressure to fill her. It happened too swiftly. His sudden intake of breath at
her cry of pain was lost to the urgency demanding that she rise to meet him.

Once he was thoroughly sheathed between her thighs, she
could no more stop his motion than she could have removed the earth from its
axis. Wyatt’s weight held her captive. His body had become a part of hers, and
she gave herself up to the rhythm of his thrusts.

And then his thrusts became fiercer, more intense, and the
liquid fire ignited and raged through her womb and exploded in rapid bursts
that ripped a cry of wonder from her throat and a rumble of deep pleasure from
Wyatt. He buried himself deeper with a wild shout and flooded her with the wet
warmth of his seed.

Drained, they lay quietly a few moments longer, absorbing
the newness of this joining. Cassandra felt a throbbing between her legs where
he lay, but she had no desire for it to go away. The wonder of what they had
done was too raw, and she wanted to know more.

Their mouths met in a long, sweet kiss, and the stirring resumed.
Restless with excitement, she stroked the strong build of his chest and
shoulders. His kiss became fiercer, and sweet triumph filled her as she
realized her ability to arouse him. He did need her. That thought opened her
heart without reservation.

He took her slowly this time, bringing her to the edge of
passion and letting the desire build until she cried his name and rose greedily
to receive him. The ecstasy they achieved was more binding still. Unable to
speak of it, they drifted back to sleep.

Wyatt was first to wake with the morning. The rain had
stopped, but the overcast dawn added only a gray haze to the room. Cassandra
lay curled in his arms, her brilliant hair providing the only curtain for her nudity.

Deep inside Merrick, a knife twisted in his gut, but the
inevitability of what he had done could not touch him while he held her
trusting body close to his. This was the way it should have been with his first
wife, this gentle giving and receiving, the passion, the closeness that should
have led to happiness and, eventually, children. That was what he had wanted,
longed for, and been denied.

He had thought he had chosen well when he had taken Alice to
wife. She had been small, quiet, and pretty in a subdued way that did not draw
a bevy of suitors. She had seemed pleased with his courtship, agreed with his
conversation, and had accepted his proposal with shy smiles. He had been quite
pleased at how easily the dreaded task of finding a wife had been accomplished.

And then they had married. He’d been young and not greatly
experienced, but none of his lovers had ever commented on his prowess or lack
of it. It had never occurred to him that there would be any complaint from a
wife.

But Alice had not stopped complaining from the first night
he had taken her to his bed. She had screamed and cried when he had taken her
virginity, until he was forced to halt and wait for another night. She had lain
like a statue the next time he went to her, visibly holding back her revulsion
while he came into her. After he had spilled his seed, she had rolled away and
cried into her pillow.

Determined to beget an heir, and believing that she would eventually
feel more at ease with her wifely duties, Wyatt had returned to her bed regularly
in the first months of their marriage. Instead of becoming more relaxed and
comfortable with each other, their infrequent encounters outside the bedroom
became strained and tense. Inside the bedroom, the tension made it almost
impossible for him to perform.

Eventually Alice had become pregnant, and he had retired
with relief to his lonely chambers. When the miscarriage occurred not long
after, he hadn’t the heart to return to her bed to start all over. He kept
telling himself he would wait until she was fully healed and willing. That time
never came.

Cassandra had restored his hope and confidence. Foolish.

Wyatt adjusted her sleeping softness a little closer in his
arms. She sighed and rubbed closer when he cuddled her breast in his palm. Although
his mind shrieked warnings, he couldn’t let her go.

By the time she woke, Wyatt had smothered even the cries of
warning in his head. He had dishonored her. He must face the consequences. Not
that the consequences were unpleasant to face when they opened sleepy blue eyes
and looked up at him with a slow smile that would cause a clock to stop.

“How do you feel?” he whispered.

Dreamily Cassandra caressed his beard-stubbled jaw, tracing
the hard plane of his cheek down to the corners of his mouth, until his lips
quirked upward in pleasure. “Enchanted,” she whispered.

He wanted her again, but it was broad daylight and there was
no excuse for lingering. He had to be the one to be strong until they could
untangle this infernal mess. He could see right now that it would never occur
to Cassandra that what they were doing was highly improper.

“You are undoubtedly a sorceress,” he murmured, returning
her caress, just enough to be certain she was real. “But unless you can make
the world go away, we will have to get dressed before we’re found.”

“Our clothes are still wet.” Cassandra lifted her gaze to
watch his expression as she explored the tight points of his nipples.

“Good,” he said, “I’ll need the damp to cool me off, and so
will you, it seems.” Wyatt caught Cassandra’s hand in a firm grip and raised it
between them.

He searched her face with concern. “You are certain you are
well? How is your head?”

“It aches. Can we not stay here until the ache goes away?”

“The ache won’t dissipate this way, wanton. Close your eyes
and I will get up first.”

Cassandra blatantly stared as Wyatt rose from their bed. The
gray light concealed much, but her heart slammed against her ribs as she
absorbed this first full view of male nudity. She had never thought about the
differences between a man’s and a woman’s body, but she could see now that
Wyatt was admirably suited to complement her. There was no softness in the hard
lines of his muscled back and narrow buttocks, but she could give him softness.
She could catch only a glimpse of the part of him that made him male, but she
knew there, too, they fit together well.

She stretched, testing aching muscles and chafed skin.
Desire still burned between her legs, but she ached also. When Wyatt turned to
bring her clothes, she caught another glimpse of his maleness, and wondered
that she had been able to accommodate him at all. She did not rise to take the
clothes, but threw back the covers in a welcoming gesture.

“Get dressed,” he muttered thickly, dropping the clammy gown
over her stomach.

Cassandra jerked at the unpleasant damp against her skin.
She had grown warm under his thorough observation, but the cold cloth he forced
on her was an insult to her well-being. She leapt from the bed and came up
against the full extent of their differences. Wyatt towered a head taller and
considerably wider, and there was that strong lance of maleness between them.

Wyatt steadied her, and a sudden shock of electricity melded
them. Cassandra wrapped her arms around his shoulders, and when he lifted her
for a kiss, she could feel his arousal sliding between her thighs. She parted
her lips to receive his tongue just as she parted her legs to receive the rest
of him.

He caught her hips in his hands and guided her to him.
Cassandra flinched as he pressed at her vulnerable entrance, but when he pushed
a little harder, she opened to him, sliding her legs upward until he held her
fully.

Wyatt stared down at Cassandra’s abandoned beauty with
amazement. Desire flushed her breasts and accented the rosy hues of hardened nipples.
Her lips curved in a sultry smile of pure delight as he moved inside her. No
man could resist such wild innocence, least of all him.

He wished desperately for the high bed of his home so he
could keep her like this, pressed against the side of the mattress while he
buried himself over and over again into this welcoming haven. But the child’s
bed they had shared was too low to maintain this position, and he would not
take her against the hardness of the table. Gently he lowered her back to the
mattress and knelt over her.

When he could no longer fight his release, he surrendered to
the pleasure, feeling his seed flow hot and deep inside her.

They both sighed in pleasure and despair when the knock came
at the door.

Cursing softly, Wyatt kissed Cassandra’s cheek and climbed
from the bed. Drawing on his clammy breeches, he strode to the door.

Cassandra’s cadaverous butler waited outside, his expression
one of stoicism. “My lady did not return home last night. Has there been some
accident?”

“Yes, but she is well. I think it would be best if you have
her maid pack her clothes and send them over to the house.”

Cassandra sat up with a start, but having nothing other than
a blanket to wear, she could not protest. The sounds of dogs in the distance
brought a realization of their predicament. She leapt for her clothes as soon
as Wyatt closed the door.

“You do not lie fast enough, my lord,” she scolded as she
struggled into her damp chemise. “Now Jacob knows we spent the night together.
He will keep quiet, I believe, except for telling Lotta, but you had best let
me talk to the next one who appears. ‘Go back to the house,’ indeed! I can just
imagine what your mother would have to say about that.”

“My mother has no say in the matter. The house is mine and
will soon be yours. She will have to make her own choices whether to stay or
not.” He reached for his shirt.

At his words, Cassandra stopped fastening her bodice to
stare. Wyatt seemed perfectly sane standing there with his shirt half on and
half off, his dark hair falling in careless locks across his forehead. He was
magnificently made, and she had to stop and gather her wandering thoughts
before replying.

“I cannot believe this is St. Wyatt speaking. You cannot set
me up as your mistress under your mother’s nose. If you have no respect for
her, have some for me.

Wyatt grimaced. “If you require a chaperone so you won’t be
calling yourself names, I will send for your mother. It may take time to locate
Rupert and obtain an annulment. I have no intention of letting my future wife
live in a derelict castle in the meantime.”

Cassandra’s head jerked upward at his calm reproof. “Wife?
Have you taken leave of your senses? It is impossible. Rupert will never agree.
We will never suit. You are all about in your head to even consider it.”

Wyatt tucked his shirttails into his breeches and began on
the last of his buttons. “Rupert will have to agree. Last night I took your
virginity. The evidence is right there on that bed. Your marriage was never
consummated. There may be other legalities. My solicitor will look into it.
There is only one honorable course for us. We will be married as soon as it is
legally feasible.”

Panic held her in thrall. Cassandra stared at the man she
had given herself to and saw the authority of the honorable earl. She could
never marry the Earl of Merrick. He would discover she wasn’t the daughter of a
marquess but a bastard. Duncan would blackmail him dry. The dowager countess
would have apoplexy. Her own mother would be exposed to shame and ridicule.

All of society would be scandalized, and Merrick would be
cast out by his peers. Besides, she could never act the part of proper countess
no matter how hard she tried.

He was mad even to consider it. Or as desperate as she had
been when she had tried to trick him into it.

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’ll not marry you, Wyatt. I’ll be
your mistress if you like, but I’ll not spoil both our reputations by doing it
so blatantly as to move in with you. Now, if you will step aside, I shall go
home before your men discover us.”

The howls of the dogs came closer.

Wyatt glared at her. “You will wait here until I can send my
men away. I don’t care if the whole damned world knows we spent the night
together, but I’ll not have them looking at you with scorn. When I come back,
we can discuss the best manner of breaking the news to everyone.” Reading
Cassandra’s rebellious expression, he added warningly, “We will be married,
Cass. There is no longer any question about it. Wait here.”

Wearing last night’s damp gown, Cassandra darted out as soon
as Wyatt disappeared into the trees. Jacob had apparently obeyed an earl’s
orders better than he had ever followed hers and had returned to the house for
her clothes.

Panic urged her on. It wasn’t in her nature to consider
consequences, but she would never have imagined a proposal even if she had
stopped to think. Why couldn’t Wyatt be like her father and brother and take
his women as he found them? Did he propose to every woman he bedded?

He hadn’t really proposed. He had ordered. She couldn’t
spend a lifetime with a man who ordered her about. She had just discovered
freedom.

~*~

Merrick wasn’t surprised when he returned to the cottage
to find Cass gone. She had already rejected his offer once. He had hoped these
last days had brought them closer and that last night had sealed the bonds, but
he should have known better. One didn’t tame a wild bird overnight.

Gathering up the soiled sheet with the evidence of their
coupling, Wyatt strengthened his resolve. She had been too innocent to feign
passion. There were worse things on which to build a marriage. He was a living
example of that.