The Flame and the Flower (53 page)

Her eyes lifted slowly to regard the face reflected in the mirror, and her body quivered as she remembered his lips upon her breasts, his hand upon her naked flesh.

"Why do I delay?" she asked herself suddenly. "This is what I've wanted and yearned for. This is what I've planned for, worked to have. Must my pride tear us apart like this?"

She rose from her chair as a denial burst from her lips and she began to yank open bureau drawers until she found what she sought, the blue gown of her wedding night. She lifted it from the drawer with loving hands and smoothed it gently upon the bed, then with fevered haste she flew back to the dressing table to prepare herself for her husband's coming.

Brandon closed the door behind him and stood a moment, his mind filled with racing thoughts of the minutes behind him and those ahead. He heard the ashtray thud upon the floor and it was like having the wind knocked out of him, and he slumped wearily against the wall.

"So that's the way it will be. She really has her wind up this time."

He threw his jacket upon the bed in sore aggravation and moved toward that hated resting place, shrugging out of his waistcoat.

"Damn, it's come to rape. There have been a dozen times I could have had her, had I kept my mouth shut or played the lady's man. Even in the garden tonight I could have taken her right then. But hell, what's the good of looking back. I've made my stand and regardless of what passes tonight, at least this damnable waiting is over. She'll fight me again, that's sure now, and I must take her contrary or gentle, holding myself in restraint as much as my body will allow and treating her kindly, though to touch that silken flesh I swear will drive me out of my mind." He sighed heavily. "I had such thoughts of tender tidings sweetly exchanged between us. But now I must lie upon my bed of thorns or none at all and to have nothing of her frightens me more than the battle yet to come. But perhaps this moment yet to be will lead to more fertile ground between us and we might sometime hence share tender passion more bent of love."

He stood now naked before the mirror.

"So, of time she's had enough and of me, well, we'll soon see."

He glanced to the door and in second thought picked up his robe and donned it so the sudden sight of his nakedness would not disturb her further.

"Hell," he thought, "I've dallied long enough. I've set a task and now it must be done."

He strode to the door and paused before it. With all his self-control, his breath came quickly and his heart beat high in his throat. He swallowed and squared his shoulders, taking a deep breath, and pushed open the door. The canopy curtains were half drawn about the bed and Heather was nowhere in sight.

"Oh God, I've pushed too hard," he thought fearfully. "She's gone. She's flown from me."

He took two large paces into the room and some slight movement from the bed drew his attention. He slowly turned in relief and closed the door, draping his robe across a chair beside it, then moved softly toward the foot of the bed and around it to the parted curtains.

The breath caught in his throat as he saw her and his blood surged through his veins in a violent rush as his senses were filled with her presence. His eyes swept her body in one long passionate caress. Her hair fell freely about her shoulders as she lay half reclining on her side among the pillows with the covers drawn out of the way to the foot of the bed. The gown teased him with its cloud of sheer blue, leaving one lovely hip and leg bare as it fell open from her narrow waist to be caught coyly between her thighs. Her breasts pressed against its transparency and lured him with their eagerness to be out, causing his breathing to become labored and hard. She smiled softly and her eyes held a seductive promise as she raised an arm to him. Almost fearing that he was in a dream, he bent over the edge of the bed, and she slipped her hand behind his neck and drew him down to her. Her skin was warm and silky smooth against him, and her intoxicating fragrance encircled him as her arms did. His hands slid to the ribbons on her gown, and her breath whispered in his ear.

"It took you long enough, my darling."

Brandon's world reeled and he grasped her tightly to him, murmuring soft words as his lips sought the tempting flesh of her throat.

"Heather... Oh, Heather," he rasped. "I've wanted you for so long, hungered for you. I couldn't bear it a moment longer."

His mouth eagerly took hers and their bodies strained together hungrily, Brandon's nearly famished for the full draught of love, Heather's just beginning to taste it. She moaned softly under his exploring, practiced hands, his fierce, fevered kisses and clung to him as she gave herself wholly to his passion, becoming so enmeshed in its intensity that she found herself returning it with a wild and free abandon that amazed herself as well as him. She felt his manhood against her, gently searching as he tried not to be rough in his eagerness, and reached down a hand to give assistance. When first she touched him, she almost recoiled with surprise at the warmth and passion he displayed, but at his hoarsely muttered encouragement led him on to his nest and felt that heat and pride press deep within her. Her eyes widened at the sensation inspired and in the soft light she saw her husband's face above her, his features sharp and hardened with his excitement. He seemed to luxuriate in the moment, so intimate, so tender between them. To her he appeared as some splendid, godlike being. Murmuring her love to him, she slid her arms about his neck, pressing her soft breasts into the mat of hair that covered his chest, and pulled his head down to hers. Her kiss was full and inviting, without reserve, flaming under his lips as her small tongue penetrated between. Brandon trembled above her, holding her close, and began to move, gently at first, taking care, but the violence of their passion consumed them both and they forgot themselves in its mounting storm. A startled murmur broke from her lips as she at last found what awaited her.

"Brandon!"

And he gloried in his triumph as they were dissolved in a mutual fire which died slowly, leaving them cinders on the hearth of love.

The candle flame flickered in the gentle breeze that stirred the curtains at the windows and bounced eerie shadows across the ceiling as it illuminated the figures within the bed. Heather lay back against the pillows, wrapped in Brandon's arms, her limbs entwined with his, feeling strangely disembodied as if she floated on a cloud somewhere detached from the world around. Her eyes were closed and a dreamy, contented smile shaped her lips as Brandon lightly traced his finger over her face, caressing her mouth, her eyes and the slanted brows.

"Always before I assumed a great degree of experience was needed for love's play to be at its richest, and now I find in that too I was wrong. I have never tasted joy so sweet before."

"Oh, my darling, you are not alone," she smiled, opening her eyes to gaze at him with love. "Had I known before what it was like I would have demanded my rights." She laughed a little and looped her arms around his neck. "It's a shame we wasted so much time to know each other."

His lips replaced his fingers and he murmured against her mouth as he pressed soft kisses upon it.

"You hated me, remember?"

"Hmm, in the very beginning perhaps I did," she replied, returning his kisses. "Then perhaps I didn't. I just know you frightened me more than I could stand."

He laughed and rolled over with her and sank his lips against the warm flesh of her throat, enjoying the feel of her unclad softness against him.

"I frightened myself too. I was afraid I'd lose you completely."

She rose up on his chest and thrust out her bottom lip sullenly. "You were as mean as a rutting boar, Brandon Birmingham, and you know it."

He half smiled as he idly ran a finger from her shoulder downward across a breast and around the pink peak thrusting forward impudently.

"Being forced into marriage went against my grain," he murmured. "And having your aunt treat me like a boorish clod from the colonies did not help my disposition. Then having to spend my wedding night under the scrutiny of Lord Hampton tested my temper more. But when you said you hated me, my anger found full bloom and since you were the only one there I could lash out against, my anger sought you. Beware, my pretty. Revenge is not a double-edged sword at all. It is purely single-edged. I found myself astraddle the sharp edge and whenever you rocked it I felt the bite."

Her eyes grew innocently round. "Whatever did I do to injure you?"

He dropped his head back against the pillow and putting his hand across his brow, closed his eyes and laughed with a sigh. "Oh, tell me what you didn't do, my love. That would indeed be simpler. You played the woman as if you created the part, and I had to stand by, the helpless male, and watch you feast upon my heart. You bared your breasts before me and swung your full ripe cheeks to tease the very eyeballs from my head, and were so damned tempting I nearly took you by force at least a thousand different times."

She giggled and laid her cheek against his shoulder and ran her fingers idly through the hair on his chest as she fell into deep thought. "Do you know, Brandon, I almost feel sorry for Aunt Fanny. She never knew what it was to be loved or to even have a friend."

He smiled and opened his eyes. "Don't feel too badly about her, pet. She's probably living quite contentedly on the money I gave her."

Heather sprang up with a start and searched his face. "You gave Aunt Fanny money?"

He nodded. "A handsome amount it was too. It went to pay a debt she said I owed her for taking care of you the two years you lived with them."

"And you paid her!" she cried indignantly. "Oh, Brandon, she was well paid in advance when she sold all my belongings. And besides, I worked for my living those two years. She had no right to claim that debt to you. I feel so ashamed. You must have thought we were all money grabbers."

He laughed with amusement, drawing her close again. "I gave it to her for more than that one reason, my love. She might have tried to make a claim upon you and my child, guessing that I had the wealth to care for her in a luxurious fashion, and I had no wish for her constant presence around me nor around you. It's one thing to have a reluctant wife but quite another to have an offensive in-law complicating matters. The next time she would have laid a hand on you I probably would have killed the hag anyway. So not wishing to commit mayhem upon that bovine beast I gave her the money without an argument. In fact, I gave it to her so quickly I fear she was shocked."

"Oh, Brandon," she laughed gaily. "You are so wonderfully impossible."

He chuckled as his hand swept her body. "Well, we are rid of her, aren't we, sweet?"

Heather's smile faded swiftly as she suddenly remembered the lifeless form of William Court sprawled upon the floor, and she threw her arms about her husband and clung to him tightly.

"I hope we are rid of her, Brandon. I hope we are."

Brandon smoothed her hair from her face, and when he spoke it was most gently. "Will you tell me why you are afraid, my love? Will you let me help you?"

She rolled away and closed her eyes, frightened of what might happen to them if he found out that she had slain a man. She shook her head, managing a laugh.

"It's nothing, my darling. Truly, there's nothing."

She opened her eyes to find him above her, waiting, his eyes searching, trying to see within her mind. Then he bent slowly toward her mouth, pressing her back into the pillows.

"I love you, Heather. I love you more than my life, and my love is strong. Trust me, my darling."

His mouth moved over hers and again Heather melted within his arms. A long time later her breath was warm against his ear.

"And I love you, Brandon, my very dearest husband."

Brandon was aroused from sleep by Hatti's voice in the hallway, and as her footsteps neared, he sat up in sudden realization of where he was. His movement roused Heather, and she rolled closer, her eyes unopened, a sleepy smile curving her lips. She reached out a hand to caress his lean, muscular ribs, and he lay back, reluctantly pulling the sheet over them as Hatti flung open the door. The old Negress stopped dead in mid stride as she saw the two of them together in the huge bed, then a broad grin made tiny wrinkles about her eyes and she bustled on into the room as if it were an everyday occurrence. Ignoring Brandon's frown, she went to the windows, throwing aside the heavy drapes to let the brilliant sunlight fill the room. She stood with arms akimbo, chuckling to herself.

"Yassah, it sure is a mighty fine day. Why, I don't think I've seen so much sun in one day in the last twenty years, not since your mammy was in this house, Master Bran."

Heather fluffed the pillows and leaned back against them half sitting, drawing the sheet up over her bosom, and Brandon joined her there, dropping a hand over her thigh as he scowled from under his brows at the Negress. Heather's eyes sparkled with suppressed merriment as she watched Hatti sweep about the room, throwing clothes over her arm and straightening things here and there.

"I suppose you all be wanting your breakfast soon," the old woman rambled on. "I ain't never known you to be a late riser before, Master Bran. I suppose Master Jeff is eating his heart out wondering where you is. Hee-hee-hee."

She chuckled, unable to contain her happiness and then grew serious as she picked up Heather's blue gown from the floor beside the bed and spread it carefully on a chair close at hand. She continued onto the wardrobe where she found a robe for her mistress and laid it beside the gown.