You Belong to My Heart (26 page)

“Make love to me now,” he said softly, persuasively, “before you go to the hospital.”

“Don’t be absurd,” she managed, but with little conviction.

“Is it? I don’t think so. And I don’t believe you think so, either.”

She studied his smug handsome face, and a small measure of her innate good sense returned. “What you mean is you don’t believe I
think
at all. Isn’t that it?” She began to pull from his embrace. “What happened the other night was a mistake. A terrible mistake for which I take full responsibility. But I guarantee you it will not happen again.”

“It will, Mary. You know it. I know it.”

She pulled completely away from him, and her dark eyes narrowed. “No, it will not. You vainly suppose that all you need do is touch me and I’m rendered incapable of intelligent thought.” Her ire was rising swiftly, steadily. She put her hands on her hips, smiled sanguinely, and, hoping to sting him, said, “You’ve forgotten who you’re dealing with, Captain Knight. While your questionable charm may work wonders on an occasional female, may I remind you its effects are short-lived on me.” Her smile widened as she drove her point home. “Why, I once went right from your arms into Daniel Lawton’s without giving you a second thought!”

Mary Ellen hoped to see at least of fleeting flicker of pain cross his handsome face. But she was disappointed. His expression never changed. His silver-gray eyes maintained their usual calm. To her dismay he just smiled at her, reached out, and toyed with the decorative piping on her sleeve as if he hadn’t heard a word she said.

Angered, Mary Ellen brushed his hand away, pushed past him, and stormed from the room, saying over her shoulder, “Stay away from me!”

T
HE CHASE CONTINUED.

The able aggressor was coolly resolute, and he was also imaginative and resourceful. Tactically trained, he was ever careful. He did not attract the attention of anyone other than the beautiful opponent he meant to capture and conquer. He kept his moving target always in sight, never allowing her to stray too far outside the realm of his reach.

The anxious quarry was fully aware she was being shadowed. Nobody’s fool, she was well aware of her pursuer’s clever strategy and took extra precautions not be caught anywhere alone if at all possible. She could do nothing about his watching her incessantly, but she could and would foil his plans to pounce on her when no one was looking.

And the chase continued.

Captain Clay Knight pursued Mary Ellen with a cold determination that both frightened and flattered her. He had her so effectively fenced in, she couldn’t possibly escape. He was everywhere at once, watching her, taunting her, waiting for her to fall into his arms.

Despite all her best efforts to keep the Captain from catching her alone, he was ingenious at devising methods of doing just that.

He single-handedly surrounded her.

And when he had her alone, he kissed her until her head spun, embraced her until she was weak in his arms, and told her in low, caressing tones all the shockingly intimate things he meant to do to her. He spoke graphically of all the ways he would make love to her.

Appalled, Mary Ellen swore repeatedly she didn’t want to hear his disgusting talk, would not listen to such lewd language. But she found—guiltily—that it was incredibly arousing to hear the strikingly handsome Captain promise her forbidden erotic pleasures she could never have even imagined.

His animal appeal was too potent. She had been lonely for too long. As the hot summer days—and hotter summer nights—marched listlessly by, Mary Ellen knew she was weakening, knew she couldn’t fight him much longer.

So did the Captain.

He sensed when her capitulation was at hand and planned accordingly.

On a sticky hot evening in early July, Mary Ellen, arriving home later than usual, saw no blue-coated men on the grounds of Longwood. Curiously, none were lounging about on the front gallery. Nor were there any inside the quiet mansion. She circled through the drawing room, moved on through the dining hall War Room, and went into the kitchen.

Not a single Yankee in sight.

Mary Ellen smiled.

Longwood was deserted.

If they were off on some kind of maneuver or contraband exercise, that meant their menacing commander was also absent from Longwood. Which afforded her a few hours of blessed peace.

Titus and Mattie were not in the kitchen. Mary Ellen started to call out to the old servants, then changed her mind. No hurry. She had all evening to see about dinner and a bath. First she’d go to her room and get out of her hot stockings and petticoats.

Back out in the marble-floored corridor, Mary Ellen looked up the grand staircase and saw that old Titus had lighted the frosted globe wall sconces leading up to the second floor. She blessed him silently for remembering. He’d been awfully forgetful of late.

The summer twilight was turning to full darkness as Mary Ellen languidly climbed the stairs. How pleasant it was not to be in a rush. What a luxury not to feel as if she had to get quickly inside the safety of her room.

Mary Ellen reached the second-floor landing, and her brief sense of well-being vanished.

Captain Knight, looking oh so threatening and darkly appealing in a pair of neatly pressed white uniform trousers—and nothing else—stood just outside the open door of the master suite.

In the muted light from the wall sconce above his head, he was a study in light and shadow. Black and white. White trousers. White teeth. White towel draped around his neck. Black hair. Black silk robe over his arm. And through the white trousers, under which he obviously wore no underwear, the thick blue-black hair of his groin was a shadowy reminder of his virility.

Mary Ellen looked at him silently.

The harshly handsome face. The beautifully configured body. Captain Knight was surely one of nature’s most perfect works, and she could have spent the rest of her life doing nothing but admiring his extraordinary masculine beauty.

At the same time, she resented him for being so irresistibly handsome. Damn him for being so gorgeous! Why should he possess a body so splendid she was constantly tempted to run her hands over the beautifully carved planes and angles?

Wishing to high heaven he were not so physically flawless and dangerously fascinating, Mary Ellen purposely kept her features composed. She gazed at him impassively without speaking. Until he held out his hand to her.

Sarcastically she said, “What do you want from me, Captain Knight?”

Unsmiling, he said, “Isn’t it obvious?”

“No, I mean besides that. What are you after this time? Surely just making love to me isn’t your main goal. Now, when I was a girl you wanted—”

“Your body is all I want, Mary,” he cut in smoothly. “Nothing more, believe me.”

“Well, how very flattering,” she said bitingly. “And you suppose I’ll just hand myself over for your…your…use.”

“It works both ways. You seem to be temporarily without a lover, so—”

“I don’t take lovers!” she snapped defensively.

“No? When did you change? As I recall, you took Daniel Lawton for your lover the minute my back was turned.”

“Your back wasn’t turned, Captain!” she said angrily. “It was gone!”

“Ah, well, I’m here now and so are you.”

Bristling, she said, “I do not have lovers!”

“All the more reason for us to—shall we say—accommodate each other. We’re both available, convenient, and no one ever need know.”

“You vile, low bastard,” she said acidly, “I really do hate you, do you know that?”

Unruffled, he replied, “So you’ve mentioned. But then how we feel about each other has little to do with lovemaking, wouldn’t you agree?” He stepped closer. “Don’t fight it any longer, Mary. What’s the use?”

What was the use? she wondered wearily. She hated him, but still she wanted him. Why couldn’t she be as detached and sophisticated and blasé as he about having a brief affair? Why not enjoy a few nights of forbidden ecstasy in a world that now offered little joy?

After all, it would only be her body he toyed with, not her heart.

The Captain read the indecision in her expressive dark eyes and again lifted his hand, extended it to her.

“No,” Mary Ellen said, barely above a whisper, knowing as well as he did that she really meant yes.

“Mary,” he said quietly in his most even, self-assured voice. “Come to me, Mary.”

Still she hesitated.

If she took his outstretched hand and went inside his suite, she would be spending the rest of her nights with him for as long as he wanted her. Until he tired of her and tossed her aside as he’d done once before.

But, Lord, she was so very tired of fighting her intense attraction for this coldhearted, hotblooded man. His chilling indifference could inflict great pain. But his warm touch could afford unbelievable ecstasy.

“Give me your hand, Mary,” he commanded, his voice remaining low, soft.

Mary Ellen laid her fingers atop his warm palm and said inanely, “I…I…need a bath.”

“I know,” he said, and gently drew her to him. “And I’m going to give you one.”

A
ND SO HE DID.

The bare-chested, white-trousered Captain ushered Mary Ellen into the master suite and locked the heavy door behind them. His hand enclosing hers warmly, he led her through the shadowy sitting room to the bedroom and dressing room/bath beyond. In the marble-walled bath lighted only by tall white candles in gleaming silver candlesticks, the white marble tub was brim full with steaming water and rich perfumed suds.

“My lady’s bath awaits,” he said, and tossed the black silk robe on a long velvet chaise.

He slid the white towel from his neck, looped it around Mary Ellen’s waist, and pulled her to him. He sat down on a tufted velvet vanity stool. With the towel he reeled in the unresisting Mary Ellen to stand between his spread knees, facing him.

He released the towel, let it drop to the plush white rug.

With the easy deftness of a man who had undressed his share of beautiful women, the Captain leisurely disrobed Mary Ellen, refusing to let her help. As he removed each article of clothing, he kissed the pale flesh he’d exposed. And as he undressed her and kissed her, he told her he’d do everything he could to make the evening a pleasant one for her.

Mary Ellen had no reason to doubt him. The cruel things they had said to each other were forgotten as she surrendered to the sensual pleasure this man so effortlessly provided.

When she was totally naked, Mary Ellen made a move toward the waiting tub and he said, “No, wait, Mary. Just for a moment.”

Mary Ellen felt the heat of his silver gaze as he held her at arm’s length and studied her intensely as if she were some interesting work of art.

The man staring fixedly at her was thinking that the Almighty had surely fashioned no more perfect female than the one standing before him. At least physically. Mary was tall for a woman, but she wasn’t large. She was appealingly slender, and the long, clean lines of her pale body spoke of both strength and grace. Her breasts were not heavy, but pleasingly full and well-shaped, the nipples still the shy pink hue of a young virgin’s. The arch of her hips was ideal in their sheer physical beauty, and while neither hips nor pelvis was wide and generous like those of some of her more voluptuous sisters, she was clearly fashioned for fucking.

He knew how perfectly their bodies fit together, remembered with vivid clarity how tight she was, how sweet and hot. Recalling the smallness, the snugness, of her gripping him, he was struck by the idea that she’d have a hard time delivering a child.

The senseless thought was gone as soon as it came, and Captain Knight rose to his feet, gently cupped Mary Ellen’s face with his hands, and kissed her. Then he lifted her up into his arms and carried her to the tub. Mary Ellen clung to his neck as he leaned down, dipped his fingers to check the water’s temperature, then lowered her slowly into the sudsy depths.

“Mmmmmm.” She sighed with pleasure and leaned her head back against the tub’s small cushioning pillow. “Wonderful,” she murmured.

Standing above, looking down at her, he said, “Stay just as you are; I’ll be right back.”

Nodding, Mary Ellen closed her eyes, felt her tense, tired muscles starting to relax beneath the surface of the hot, bubbly water.

When he returned from the bedroom, Mary Ellen’s eyes were closed and she was almost dozing. He spoke her name softly. She opened her eyes and looked up at him. He held a clean white washcloth in one hand, a couple of white towels in the other. She lifted her arm, reached for the washcloth.

“Allow me,” he said, and laying aside the towels, he knelt beside the tub.

Supposing he must surely be teasing, she nonetheless said, “No, I…Really, no…I can—”

“Shhh,” the Captain warned as he dipped the cloth into the water and reached for the new bar of perfumed soap.

Mary Ellen lunged up anxiously when he pressed the soapy cloth to the base of her throat. But she sank back against the tub rim’s cushioning pillow when his lips covered hers and he whispered into her mouth, “Mind me now, Mary.”

In no mood to argue, Mary Ellen minded him. She was as submissive as a small child being bathed by a parent. But she was no child and he was no parent, and soon she was experiencing the most memorable bath of her entire life.

He started with her shoulders, then had her sit forward while he washed her slender back. It was wonderfully sensuous to have him guide the soapy cloth gently up and down her spine as if she were made of priceless porcelain. Mary Ellen bent her head, put her face on her raised knees, and sighed with the enjoyment of it. When her back was clean and fragrant from the perfumed soap, he instructed her to raise her head and lean back again.

She did.

And she felt her face flush with heat when his strong brown hand generously soaped her slippery breasts. The wet nipples instantly became taut under his gentle touch and hot silver gaze. He reached in the tub, scooped up rich bubbles, and deposited them on her tingling nipples. Then he bent his dark head and blew them away.