Shackles of Honor (49 page)

“Music is not necessary in this dance, Bliss,” he whispered provocatively.

She stiffened in his arms as she felt his lips at her neck. Ever so slightly
,
she felt his body begin to sway, urging hers to follow.

“You toy with me, sir,” she whispered, as a delighted mist filled her eyes. He said nothing, but as his lips brushed her neck once more
,
she felt him inhale deeply.

“
‘
Breathe breath of me
,’” he quoted in a low intonation
.
“
‘P
erfumes on her skin so fair, of her sigh
,
the fragrance there
.
’
” Cassidy tipped her head, forcing his mouth from her neck. It was too torturous to feel his kiss there, to crave his lips with her own
,
and
to
have him deny her again. But his eyes met hers, and as his hands left her waist and took her face firmly, he spoke, “You wear the scent of heaven.” He kissed the corner of her mouth lingeringly, yet lightly, and she melted to him as he added, “And your mouth has the flavor of some fairy’s confection.”

His mouth was open, moist
,
and heated when, in the next moment, the playful tenderness was gone from him and in its place was the fierce, demanding, thirsty kiss that was Mason Carlisle’s. Cassidy’s mind was oblivious to everything…to the world. All that existed was Mason
—h
is arms embracing her tightly, his kiss magnificently thorough and euphoric. The perfectly masculine aroma of him filling her lungs, the feel of the muscles in his back working to embrace her fully,
and
the abrasive caress of his whiskers as his jaw and mouth endeavored to weave a spell of rapture about her were sublime! One of his hands was lost in her hair
;
the gold of the bracelet he wore was cold against her neck, a blissful reminder that he was hers. If not in spirit or in heart, he did belong to her, and the knowledge gave her courage. Enough that she was able to let herself be lost in her own love for him, to return his kiss wholeheartedly as she had always dreamed of doing. After long moments, his mouth left hers as he paused, letting his eyes study her face for a moment.

“You…you take my breath away, sir,” she whispered, suddenly embarrassed at her own unguarded willingness and unsettled under his scrutiny.

“I am your breath, Cassidy. You will learn to breathe me,” he answered.

Cassidy’s attention was drawn to his mouth, the perfect shape of his lips. Her lips parted, an unconscious invitation to her dream lover’s kiss. With a triumphant grin, Mason’s head descended toward hers again to meet her anxious lips with impassioned affection.

“Mason LaMont Carlisle!” Lady Carlisle exclaimed from the doorway. “How dare you? Making love to the girl just here! In the library? For anyone to see who should simply happen by?”

Gasping and immediately blushing crimson, Cassidy struggled to escape Mason’s embrace
,
and he let her go, save he put one hand to her cheek, resting his thumb on her lips for a moment before turning to address his mother.

“I have simply kissed her, Mother, as you yourself have instructed me to do on so many occasions,” he stated.

“
I am not a
verse to the kiss, son…and well you know it! It is the lack of privacy that concerns me. Your skills in seduction are no doubt at least as powerful as your father’s were at your age, and knowing a woman’s inability to resist them, I will not have you giving anyone reason to doubt the validity of Cassidy’s good reputation.” Lady Carlisle fanned herself nervously with her hand, obviously uncomfortable about having to reprimand her son about such an incident.

“Point taken, Mother,” Mason said, striding toward the door. “From now on I shall ravish Miss Shea only in the privacy of her bedchamber…or mine.” With a nod of triumph to his mother, whose delicate mouth gaped open in astonishment, he retreated.

“Milady…I…” Cassidy began.

“Now, now,
d
ove. No worry. I simply
have
to reprimand him. Propriety demands it! At the same time, do not think I truly intend to deprive you of his affections,” the lady said with a wink. “You should retire, my darling. It has been a long day
,
and I have received word that your brother will arrive tomorrow for a brief visit. You will want to be well rested so you can lovingly banter with him, will you not?”

“Yes,” Cassidy said, smiling as Lady Carlisle kissed her affectionately on the brow.

But so weakened was she still by Mason’s kiss, she wondered if her own legs could carry her to her chamber. Once in bed, however, she enjoyed reflecting on the moments in the library with Mason. Oh, he was divine! In every manner! And she could not help but think that he favored her somehow. Perhaps there was hope. He could not have kissed her so were he entirely loath toward her. Could he?

Chapter Fourteen

Cassidy was relieved when the presence of Mathias in her chamber at night stopped the distressing incidents. Her spirits were also lifted in the knowledge that Ellis would soon join her at Carlisle Manor.

Ellis would arrive in the late afternoon, his message to Lady Carlisle had stated. Since Mason was nowhere about, Cassidy made busy in various endeavors when she arose the next morning. At last, and as always, however, she found herself on the banks of the lake in the afternoon. She informed Havroneck where she was bound and was not so startled as she may have been to see Mason approaching after awhile. Her heart began to beat madly as she watched him stride toward her. All the physical and euphoric sensations, which blissfully drowned her the night before as he held her in his arms, returned anew
, and she nearly turned from him
as the heated blush of delight at the memory rose to her cheeks immediately.

He offered no greeting but simply said, “He arrives at any moment then?”

“Ellis?” Cassidy stammered.

“Is someone else due to arrive of whom I am ignorant?” he asked, his tone heavy with sarcasm.

“No. No, of course not,” Cassidy answered. It was clear his defenses against being flirtatious or otherwise amiable were as solid as granite this day.

Rain had fallen in the night and left in its wake a large muddied area close to where Cassidy stood. “It’s wise you would be to be careful so near to such muck,” Mason mumbled. “You wouldn’t want to taint your pristinely polished slippers.”

“Why do you make to be so cruel in your tone toward me?” she asked. He truly tortured her in toying with her emotions.

“You mean after my less than torturous exhibition toward you last evening?” he teased, turning from her and looking back toward the gardens.

How Mason did vex her at times! He was completely spoiled. So entirely sure of himself and used to his every whim being adhered to, he thought he could simply manipulate her daily. He had held her in his arms and given up a passion to her from which she would never recover. He held her in his complete control
,
and the knowledge of it angered her. Without thought to further consequence, Cassidy reached down and drew up a handful of the mossy, mucky mud at her feet. Before she could think, she watched her own arm betray her good sense and send the mess hurling through the air to land solidly at the back of his neck.

The splatter the muck created was even worse than she could have imagined. It soaked his neck, stuck in his hair, spotted his shirt
,
and ran down his collar onto his back. He stopped, not turning at first to look at her, and raised a hand to the back of his head. He looked at his mud-covered fingers casually. He turned, slowly, glaring at her with intense, angry eyes. “This is my favorite shirt, girl!” he growled, stomping through the mud toward her.

“Hold there, sir!” Cassidy warned, bending and filling her hand once more with the liquefied earth. “You’re a spoiled brat of a boy! How can a man with seventeen
thousand
shirts to his name deem one his favorite?”

He stopped cold in his tracks and looked daringly at the handful of mud she held.
“I will take you down in this mess, girl. You need a mud bath to squelch that high opinion you have of yourself!” he shouted.

He took two steps more toward her
,
and she let go of the slop in her hand. It hit him squarely in the chest, soaking his perfectly white shirt and splattering into his face. His chest rose and fell heavily as he glared at her and stripped himself of the soiled shirt. Throwing it down into the mud behind him, he began to walk toward her.

“Hold your ground, sir!” Cassidy screeched, though a giggle born
e
of the sight of him in such a state threatened to escape her lips. Bending down, she began flinging mud at him with both hands, screaming as he then lunged at her, pushing her back into the muck. She laughed as she felt her hair soaking up the slop. The back of her dress was soaked the full length of her body
,
and she heard Mason’s amused chuckle as he slipped and now sat beside her fully covered in mud from his waist down.

“I told you it was my favorite shirt,” he chuckled.

Cassidy pushed at his hands as he began smearing mud all up and down the front of her skirt and bodice waist. “Stop!” she cried out, still laughing. But he only chuckled, and she felt cool, gritty mud as he wiped it on her face and throat. “You are two times my size. You are not playing fair!”

“It would do you well, my little mud pie, not to pick on the big boys then,” he laughed.

Cassidy sat up, pushed hard, and sent him backward into the sludge as well. Her clothes were heavy with mud
,
and she awkwardly struggled to her feet, lifted her skirts, and quickly ran from him. Almost immediately she felt his arms around her waist, pulling her up short of her escape. He held her back against his chest as she giggled and struggled to get away.

“You shall pay for my favorite shirt, imp,” he chuckled softly into her ear. The feel of his warm breath on her neck sobered her a bit
,
and she ceased her struggles. Mason released her
,
and still laughing, she turned to face him. He was smiling, white teeth flashing through the brown mess of mud that covered his face. “You
are
a mud-coated treat,” he noted.

“And you are unclothed and uncouth,” she giggled.

“Really?” he mumbled. Reaching out, he tugged lightly at the shoulder of her bodice
,
which had somehow torn severely in the pother. Cassidy looked down at the destroyed shoulder seam and gasped as the back of Mason’s mud-caked hand caressed her shoulder slowly, smearing mud on her pristine, soft flesh.

“Oh, sir! May we join in your game?” Martin and Gregory asked, stepping from behind the hedges with small ships tucked neatly under their arms.

“Well,” a familiar voice spoke
,
and Ellis suddenly appeared as well
,
“I’m glad to see the two of you have found means of relieving your frustrations.” He too tugged at the limp piece of cloth at Cassidy’s shoulder. “At least you did not murder, maim
,
or molest one another. Mud—a good moral choice, though I do have to raise my brow at finding you both only half attired.”

“I’m fully attired, Ellis Shea, and well you know it!” Cassidy scolded him, her face turning crimson beneath its mask of mud.

“Alas, I fear she is right,” Mason sighed dramatically. “Though as you can well see, Ellis
…
”
H
e pointed to his muddy handprint blatant on Cassidy’s bare shoulder
.
“I did try to remedy the fact.”