Samantha James (9 page)

“You have a stubborn streak, Yank. You say you are not cold,” he growled, “yet clearly you are. So
come here, else you’ll never be warm—and I will find no sleep this night.”

He pulled her to him, molding her to his side and tucking her head against his chest. In some distant corner of his mind, he was stunned that she displayed no further inclination toward rebellion. Indeed, Gabriel was stunned at how willingly she accepted her fate, her form pliantly soft and yielding against his own. With a wispy little sigh, she curled against him, pillowing her head on his chest as if they’d slept just so for a lifetime.

Bristly dark hairs tickled her cheek, but Cassie did not mind—his arms proved a haven that was impossibly warm and safe—and just as impossible to resist. Little by little, the heat from his body seeped into hers. Her shivering ceased. Her muscles relaxed. Her breathing deepened. Soon she slept.

As always, Gabriel was the first to awaken the next morning. Dawn’s golden, shimmering light was beginning to slant through the window, but he did not rise immediately as he usually did. Instead he let himself enjoy the feeling of the soft, feminine body curved against him.

Cassie had scarcely moved during the night. His lips tightened. He was reminded of the chemise he’d pulled from her last night, worn so thin it was almost sheer. A part of him was still appalled that she owned but two gowns, both of which deserved to be pitched into the nearest fire—and which he intended to do very soon.

Chiding himself for he knew he would regret it later, he pulled back the sheet to look at her, easing slightly away to see her better. His unhurried gaze
slid slowly down the length of her body, taking in every detail at his leisure. He was, after all, but a mortal man, and the sweetness of her physical charms blunted the sharpness of the chit’s tongue, which he had sorely underestimated.

Her hair was spread wildly on the pillow beneath her head, revealing all that he sought to see and enchantingly so. Her limbs were slim and delicate, her skin the color of smooth, pale cream. She had gained a little flesh since the voyage began, he noted with satisfaction. Yet she was still unearthly slender. He knew that were he to try, he could circle both her wrists in one hand, and effortlessly measure the width of her hips with the span of his fingers.

A simmering heat began to spread along his veins. No, he thought again, he was scarcely unappreciative of her feminine delights. His gaze lingered on cherry-rouge nipples which crowned breasts that were small but perfectly shaped. Reddish-gold down guarded her womanhood. The urge to tumble her back, to drive his shaft deep and hard and feel her tight, clinging heat surround his manhood bit deep.

He reminded himself this marriage was little more palatable than marriage to Evelyn. Though it was of his doing, it was not to his liking, and that part of him warned against the idea of making this a true marriage. Still another part, the male part of him, whispered it would be no hardship to make love to her…no hardship at all. But Gabriel was a man who had learned to master his passion as well as his emotions.

Still, a nagging notion persisted…a marriage was not truly binding until it was consummated.

He drew her against his length, his hands unconsciously measuring the narrowness of her waist. She was soft and sleepy and warm, her lips parted in drowsy invitation.

It was there his gaze settled. “Yank,” he whispered, the sound but a wispy breath of air.

Cassie stirred. Her lashes fluttered slowly open. Time stood still as she stared into the darkly handsome face that smiled with sardonic amusement just above her own. Her eyes widened with the dawning revelation that she lay snugly pressed against him from breast to knee—and both of them naked yet! She could feel the hairy roughness of his thighs against hers. As for what lay between, why, she dare not even think of such…

Her hands came up between them, as if to push him away. But Gabriel allowed no retreat. His hold about her tightened, bringing her into even closer contact with his form.

“Why, Yank, what is this? You harbored no such aversion to my touch at the inn.” His fingers tangled in her hair. He turned her face up to his. “Come now. What is a kiss between husband and wife?”

“’Tis not a kiss you want but much more!” She pushed against his shoulders, to no avail. He merely held her in place with the heavy pressure of his chest.

“Why, Yank, indeed it seems we make progress. You know me so well already.”

Cassie ceased her struggles and glared her displeasure. Oh, but she hated his sarcasm!

He bent lower still, a powerful, threatening presence. Cassie had never considered herself weak
or helpless, yet she felt so now, for there was no escaping him. A sickening dread assailed her, for she sensed a purpose in him that was somehow frightening. But just when she feared he would press home his advantage, he released her.

She scrambled back against the wall and clutched the covers to her breasts. He said nothing, but propped himself up on an elbow, still holding her in the vise of his gaze. Cassie’s heart bounded wildly. She did not trust him, for his mind turned in ways she did not understand. And he made her nervous, lying there, watching her when she was so obviously naked.

“Our marriage,” he said suddenly. “It has not been consummated. An annulment could still be had—by either of us. It occurs to me the matter should be rectified before we reach England.”

Cassie blanched. Her mind churned, like the turbulent seas. Surely he did not mean to…Her lips parted. “But…you promised. You said we need not…you promised you would leave me be!”

“It occurs to me I spoke too rashly.” His tone was iron-hard. “I will have no one question the validity of this marriage, Yank.”

Her eyes were huge. “Your father, you mean?”

“Especially my father.” His lips barely moved as he spoke.

Cassie’s heart was pounding wildly. He stretched out a hand. She went utterly still, shocked when a brazen fingertip traced the thrust of her breast beneath its covering. “I am not an inattentive lover, Yank,” he said softly.

“You’ll be no lover of mine!” Blindly she struck out at him.

He snared her by the wrists. All at once this exchange was less a matter of consequence than it was a battle of wills. “My kiss gave you pleasure, Yank. Do you deny that I pleased you?”

Her chest was heaving as she sought to avoid further contact with his muscled chest. “I was neither pleased nor pleasured!”

But it was a lie, through and through. His kiss had wrought a peculiar sweetness, but she had no doubt that the eventual conclusion would prove disgusting and degrading.

A glint of anger crossed his features, yet his voice was smooth as fine brandy. “Forgive me, Yank, but I cannot believe I am truly such a beast. Why, there are women in London who would give a king’s ransom to take your place in my bed.”

Oh, the arrogant lout! “And I would gladly give them my place,” she cried.

His expression tightened. “Unfortunately, that is not possible. And I fail to see why you cling to your stubbornness, for what am I but one more man?”

He pushed away the covers. Cassie trembled beneath his scrutiny as his eyes boldly evaluated all that lay revealed to him, feminine charms bare and unbridled.

“And I fail to see why you persist in taking what should be freely given,” she choked out. “Have I no say in this? No choice?”

He merely shook his head and pressed her wrists down upon the side of her head. His nearness was overwhelming; his body lay heavy and hard upon hers. And there was an extra hardness, prodding the softness of her belly…

Her breath came in a desperate rush. “You said you had no wish for an heir! What if I should get with child?”

For one terrifying moment it was as if he had not heard. Then all at once, he rolled from her abruptly and rose from the bunk.

Still stunned by the encounter—but immensely grateful for his withdrawal—Cassie huddled in the bunk. She scarcely dared to breathe as he dressed. His movements were quick, almost savage. She sensed he was fiercely—violently—angry.

She knew it for certain when he turned. His jaw was clenched tight, his expression as frigid as his voice.

“This changes nothing, Yank. Should the question arise, you will confirm that our marriage has been consummated.”

Cassie’s head came up. Her breath wavered. “What?” she murmured. “You mean you would have me lie—”

His voice cut across hers. “I suggest you do exactly that, or else I will have no choice but to see the deed done. And make no mistake—your resistance will not stop me the next time. And do not think to defy me in this, Yank, to my father or anyone else. You must carefully guard the true state of our marriage. For it’s all that keeps you safe,” there was no escaping the determined glitter in his eyes, “—the
only
thing that keeps you safe.”

Cassie shrank back against the wall, stunned and disbelieving. A cold knot of fear coiled hard in her belly. Sweet Lord, had he just threatened her virtue…or her life?

A
week later Gabriel announced they would dock in London within the hour.

Prodded into a jarring wakefulness, Cassie slid the quilts from the bed and arose. Her pulse beat a rapid tattoo of excitement as she hurried to pour fresh water into the basin. She scrubbed her face until it glowed, washed her body quickly, then brushed her hair and twisted it into a heavy knot on her nape. With a sigh she reached for her worn and tattered gown. Only yesterday she had mended one of the seams—yet again. But it was the low-cut bodice she hated even more than its ragged appearance. It had always made her feel cheap and tawdry, but never more so than now.

There was a knock on the door. “Cassie? I thought you might like to go above to watch as we approach London.”

It was Christopher. She had scarcely ventured outside of the cabin this last week. The memory of being nearly swept overboard was still too painfully fresh in her mind to be forgotten easily. Oddly, Gabriel had not insisted. She opened the door a crack.

He smiled at her. “It would please me if you would. And we need not go near the railing, I promise.”

Cassie bit her lip, then nodded. Christopher was kind and gentle and looked so hopeful she couldn’t bear to disappoint him. Perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad after all. “Let me just get my shawl,” she murmured.

On deck the air was bracing but not overly chill. Christopher stood several feet away, near but not touching her. Cassie’s heart began to thud. Now that the time was upon her, she didn’t know if this was the moment she dreaded—or longed for with all of her being! Gabriel soon joined them, though he had little to say. She craned her neck to catch her first view of the city, unaware that both men watched her, one with an indulgent half-smile, the other with his thoughts carefully hidden from view.

Cassie stared out where warehouse after warehouse stretched along the shoreline. The port was teeming with the loading and unloading of ship after ship. Beyond, plumes of smoke drifted into the sky. The captain guided the ship into its berth; the anchor was dropped.

There was a hand at her elbow. Her husband’s voice rushed past her ear. “Wait here while I see to the unloading of the cargo.”

Christopher had gone below for his belongings. He returned, a portmanteau in his hand, his hat slanted jauntily atop his head. He stopped before her.

“It seems it’s time to say good-bye,” he said gently.

Uncaring that her husband might be watching, Cassie pressed a kiss upon his cheek. “Thank you for everything, Christopher. I—I shall miss you.”

He gave a hearty chuckle and lowered his portmanteau to the deck. Reaching out, he clasped both her hands in his. “Oh, you’ve not seen the last of me, Cassie.” Gently he squeezed her fingers. “I shall catch up to you and Gabriel very soon.” With that he reclaimed his portmanteau, then turned to amble down the gangplank. At the bottom, he turned and waved briefly, then was gone. Try though she might, an endless weight of sadness pressed heavy on her breast. Besides Bess, Christopher had been her one true friend.

The unloading progressed quickly. It was not long before Gabriel was at her side once more, presenting his elbow. “Ready to greet England, Yank?”

With a bravado she was far from feeling, Cassie placed her fingers on his arm. With that first step upon the gangplank, she feared her heart would burst through her breast. Her nails dug into his arm, but she fixed her gaze on the figures scurrying to and fro on the wharf and concentrated on putting one foot before the other.

She was a trifle pale by the time she was on solid ground once more. The air was chill and damp, far cooler than Charleston. Only then did she note the carriage which awaited nearby. The driver jumped down and hurriedly swung open the door for her. Cassie hesitated, unsure how she was expected to proceed. Was she to enter on her own power, or wait for someone to assist her? Mercifully, the choice was taken from her. Gabriel handed her
inside, then climbed in after her. He did not sit near but chose to sit opposite her. With a whinny and a word from the driver, they started forward.

Cassie peered curiously out the small window, eager to see London. She was silent as the carriage began to zigzag through cobblestone streets. From a distance came the sound of noisy vendors hawking their wares at every street corner. But it was not long before the man across from her claimed her attention once more. He remained as elegantly aloof, as distant as ever. None but the mere necessities of speech had passed between them of late. He sat across from her, a commanding—and disturbing—presence.

Nervously she smoothed her skirts. As anxious as she’d been to be rid of her past, she had scarcely dared to think of the future, for it still held so many uncertainties.

She broke the silence that had settled between them. “Do you have a house in London?”

Cool gray eyes slid to her. “I have a townhouse in the West End. But we will not be staying the night there.”

Cassie folded her hands in her lap. She was not sure she liked the sound of that. “Then where will we be staying?” She hated the timidity of her voice, but she could not help it.

His regard was so piercingly intent she grew uneasy. “At Farleigh Hall, the family estate in Kent,” he said at last. “But first we will make a slight detour,” his brows rose when he glimpsed her uneasiness, “to visit a
modiste
.”

A dressmaker. So. He had not lied. Unfortunately, he read her mind far too accurately—and with
far too much ease. A faint smile curled his mouth. “You need not look so surprised, Yank. I did promise to see you garbed appropriately, after all.”

Lilliane Willison’s creations were all the latest rage in London, though Cassie was hardly aware of it. A woman with sharp, dark eyes who had passed the first blush of womanhood, Lilliane was still very attractive.

“My wife is in need of an entire wardrobe, Lilliane—and I do mean everything. And Lilliane,” his smile was breathtaking, “I’ll certainly make it worth your while if you keep the extent of my wife’s needs in strictest confidence.”

Only through the most strenuous of efforts was Lilliane Willison able to conceal her shock. The handsome lord was a favored customer, for when choosing a gift for his paramours, he spared no expense. But…a wife! Of course she would honor his request, for one did not make an enemy of Gabriel Sinclair, but oh! the gossips would be abuzz when they heard of his marriage!

“You’ve come to the right place, milord.” Cherry-red lips smiled demurely. Though her manner was quiet and dignified, Cassie had the immediate sensation that the woman was immensely clever and astute. Would she think it odd—the faultlessly dressed gentleman and his shabby wife? But then even that thought was lost as Lilliane ushered them into another room.

Bolts of muslin, silk, and velvets lined the walls, reaching nearly to the ceiling—in more colors than Cassie had dreamed possible.

The next few hours passed in a blur. Cassie’s face flamed when Lilliane made her strip down.
Gabriel lounged in a chair and looked on; she did not dare to meet his eyes. Cassie found it rather disconcerting that he seemed so at home in these surroundings—and with every detail of a lady’s wardrobe. But a niggling little voice reminded her that he was no doubt just as familiar with a lady’s bedroom…and therefore all that was in it.

It was well into the afternoon before they finally departed. Lilliane had brought out several gowns which another customer had declined to purchase after all. Cassie was thrilled to find they were a perfect fit. Before they left, Gabriel asked that they be bundled into several large boxes. As Cassie watched them being stowed behind the driver’s seat, she hid her disappointment, for she would have dearly loved to exchange her horrid gown for one of the others.

They made one more stop—at a jeweler’s where Gabriel bought her a wedding ring. As he slid the shining gold band over her finger, Cassie could not halt the thought which vaulted through her mind. The ring somehow made their marriage all the more real…all the more binding.

As they left the city behind, Cassie did not know if she were more excited or apprehensive. Her mind was whirling. Gabriel seemed perfectly at ease, long legs stretched out before him. With a sigh, Cassie turned her attention to the countryside sliding by outside. It was so very different from all she had known, for seldom had she ventured outside of Charleston. As far as the eye could see was green, rolling hillside, patchworked with farms and dotted with sheep.

She must have dozed, for the next thing she knew, someone was calling her name. Her senses dulled by sleep, her first sensation was one of warmth and security. Her cheek resided on crisp broadcloth. The heartbeat beneath her ear was steady and soothing. Her lids drifted slowly open…she stared directly into piercing silver eyes.

She nearly sprang from his arms. Gabriel raised a sardonic brow and offered with a faint smile, “You looked most uncomfortable, Yank. I merely thought to save you from a crick in your neck.”

Cassie folded her hands in her lap, willing her fingers not to tremble. Why was it she always seemed to find herself in his arms—the last place she wanted to be—the last place
he
wanted her?

Gabriel gestured toward the window. “We are nearly there, Yank.”

Just then they passed through tall stately gates, flanked by a small brick gatehouse, down a long, pebbled lane. On either side, lush, landscaped lawns undulated gently. So stunned was she that she was only vaguely aware of the carriage rolling to a halt and Gabriel swinging her to the ground.

“The family estate, Yank.” Gabriel’s smile did not quite reach his eyes. “Farleigh Hall.”

Cassie had never seen anything like it. Graceful pillars of stone dominated the center of the house. Massive wings stretched out from each side. She found herself overcome by awe, for never had she imagined such grandeur. But her husband allowed her no time to gawk. Quickly he ushered her up the wide stone steps.

The doors were swept open. A white-haired, stoop-shouldered butler ushered them inside. To
the right, portrait after portrait lined the length of the gallery. To the left, a set of intricately carved double doors stood tall and imposing. Straight ahead rose a wide staircase, angling in either direction at the landing. Though the butler did not smile, his eyes were frankly warm. “My lord! ’Tis good to see you again.”

“Thank you, Davis. Is my father in the drawing room?”

“No, my lord. He has gone out riding with the duke of Warrenton. I expect they will return shortly.”

“Excellent,” Gabriel murmured. He reached out to capture Cassie’s arm. “Davis, I would like to present my wife.”

Surprise flared, but the man was so well trained he recovered in a heartbeat. He bowed low, his manner formal but not stiff. “Madam, allow me to welcome you to Farleigh Hall.”

“Thank you,” she murmured. She summoned a tentative smile, feeling small and unimportant amidst such surroundings.

“Davis, would you see that our bags are brought in? Oh, and I’d like a chamber prepared for my wife. The yellow room, I think.”

“Very good, milord.”

His hands linked behind his back, Gabriel turned to his wife. “Well, Yank, I trust this meets with your approval?”

Her smile withered. He appeared rather pleased with himself, and there was a gleam in his eyes that made her distinctly wary. “Did you think I doubted you?” She posed the question very quietly.

His laughter was hearty—and false. “Ah, no, Yank, that I did not! Indeed, I suspect you’d never have consented to my proposal if you didn’t stand to gain a great deal from it.”

Cassie’s nails cut into her palm. Must he make her sound so—so greedy? The man was ever ready to believe the worst of her. But she was saved from having to make a reply by the arrival of a maid.

“Milady, your room is ready,” the girl said timidly. “I’ll show you to it if you wish.”

She leveled a burning glare at her husband, then pointedly turned her back on him. Her spine was rigid as she followed the girl up the grand staircase. Near the end of a long corridor on the second floor, the maid opened a door and paused. She smiled tentatively. “By the way, milady, I’m Gloria.”

Cassie felt her anger drain from her. “Thank you, Gloria.” It seemed so strange, to be called
milady
. She had to stop herself from looking around for someone else.

She stepped past the girl, then caught her breath in sheer delight. The room was huge, larger even than the taproom at Black Jack’s. Pale yellow satin hangings draped an enormous four-poster. A delicately flowered washbasin topped the washstand. There was a wide dresser and spindle-legged dressing table with brush and comb and a silver-edged hand mirror spread across the top. Two low-backed chairs done in white velvet were drawn up before the fireplace.

She found herself tiptoeing across the floor, scarcely able to believe she was really here.

Gloria was looking at her anxiously. “I hope the room is to your liking, milady.”

“It—it’s lovely.” It was all Cassie could think to say, so choked up was she. Filled with sunlight and warmth, the room was all she had ever dreamed of and more.

A sweet-scented breeze drifted in through the open window. Cassie pushed aside the frilly white curtain. Was it wrong to feel this giddy rush of happiness? All at once she felt immensely selfish. She thought achingly of Bess—sweet Bess, who would have cried for sheer joy at the privilege of having even a glimpse of such extravagance.

“Would you like me to help you change, milady?” She turned and saw that Gloria had laid out one of the dresses on the bed—an emerald-green evening dress, Lilliane had called it.

“Thank you, I—”

“That won’t be necessary, Gloria.” A familiar voice cut across hers. Gabriel strode into the room, as supremely masculine and arrogant as ever.

“Please ring for me when you need me, milady.” Gloria dipped a curtsy and fled.

“Come, Yank. Your presence is required downstairs.”

Cassie’s hand fell from the curtain. Her gaze slid longingly toward the gown. “Please.” Her voice was barely a whisper. “Is there no time to change—”