A Perilous Attraction
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Taking no notice of her pique, Caldbeck lifted her hand to his lips, his eyes on hers. “Until later, then.”
After stalking around her room for fifteen minutes, muttering about men who thought they could order one about as soon as one married them, Catherine began to ask herself why this particular man insisted so firmly that she nap. The answer to that followed so closely on the heels of the question that she stopped dead still in the middle of the room, eyes wide.
A fierce tingling in her stomach dropped suddenly into her pelvis, creating a most disturbing sensation.
Tonight she would know.
Tomorrow she would be curious no longer.
Good heavens!
Catherine tried to lie down for a few minutes, but her agitation would not let her rest. Reading proved to be out of the question. She stared unseeing at the pages of a usually thrilling romance until, in annoyance, she tossed the book onto a table. When Sally appeared to help her dress for dinner, she heaved a sigh of relief.
Joining Caldbeck in the family dining room, Catherine tasted not one morsel of the food that passed her lips. The chef had completely wasted his skill on her. Caldbeck made polite conversation, as though she were no more than a casual acquaintance, but Catherine responded with monosyllables. Richard, the secretary, did his best to hold up his end, but excused himself and fled as soon as they finished the meal.
As the party included no other gentlemen with whom Caldbeck might drink his port, and no ladies with whom Catherine might drink tea, they each retired very early to their respective bedchambers. Catherine arrived at hers to discover a tray with brandy and glasses on a table near the sofa and a pitcher of mulled wine on the hob. She took a deep breath and tried to rub the knot out of her stomach.
She stared into the middle distance, her mind a blank, while Sally brushed her brilliant curls and pulled them up to the crown of her head, tying them with a satin ribbon. She didn’t question Sally’s choice of gown and negligee, but slipped her arms into the soft, creamy silk without comment.
The smooth fabric molded over her breasts and skimmed down her body, causing her to shiver. She was adjusting the lace edging the robe when a tap sounded on the door to the adjoining room. Sally quickly straightened the dressing table and looked inquiringly at Catherine.
“That will be all, Sally. You may go.” As Sally departed, and Catherine turned toward the door, a second knock sounded. Caldbeck stepped in, and the sight of him took Catherine’s breath away. He had removed his coat, his cravat and his shoes. His breeches clung to muscular legs, and the top few buttons of his shirt were unfastened, revealing the strong column of his neck. Sleeves turned back at the cuff showed sculptured forearms. As usual, he bowed.
“Will you take a glass of wine with me, Kate?”
Catherine nodded silently, suddenly acutely aware of the revealing neckline of her gown and diaphanous robe. The telltale warmth flooded her face and breasts, and she quickly turned and walked to the sofa. The clinging fabric whispered around her legs and generous hips, and she could all but feel Caldbeck’s gaze on her bottom as he followed.
Catherine sat, and after pouring the warm wine for her and brandy for himself, Caldbeck sat beside her. She kept her eyes on her glass and searched in vain for something to say. Caldbeck showed no sign of unease. He sipped his brandy comfortably and studied the fire. Catherine leaned into the sofa cushions and took a long swallow of the hot wine. The comforting heat seeped through her, spreading into her limbs. After several more swallows had warmed her, Caldbeck turned to look at her.
“Tomorrow, if you like, we shall ride, and I shall show you some of the estate.”
“Oh, yes. I love to ride. But…what happened to my horses?” She had had no time to think about them, but held little hope that they had survived her uncle’s fall from grace.
“I redeemed them. They arrived this morning. That is a very fine chestnut hunter.”
“Indeed she is.” Catherine always warmed to a discussion of her horses. “I have not tried her in the field yet. I’ll ride her tomorrow.” The wine and the fire began to have their effect. She relaxed a little more and leaned toward him. “And thank you so much for thinking of my horses. So much has happened.”
“Yes, we have been much too occupied. I have had no opportunity to give you this.” He reached for a small, velvet box on the wine tray and handed it to her. Catherine set her glass down and took it. Slipping the ribbon from it, she removed the lid and stared in wonder at the contents.
“Oh, how beautiful!” She lifted out a delicate necklace of deep blue sapphires set in gold. Catherine looked into Caldbeck’s face. “I—I don’t know what to say. You are too generous. You have already given me the lovely pearls.” She rocked her hand so that the jewels caught the light of the fire. “It’s gorgeous!”
“Pearls are for a bride. These are for my wife.” Leaning forward, Caldbeck took the necklace from her. He circled her with his arms and deftly fastened the necklace. Resting his hands on her shoulders, he gazed at her for several breaths. “Yes,” he said finally, “they are just the color of your eyes.” He stroked her slim shoulders, pushing the silk of the negligee off onto her arms. “And breathtaking against your exquisite skin.” He drew her toward him.
Catherine could not see that his lordship’s breath had been taken, but hers certainly had. She opened her mouth for air just as his came over it. His hands tightened on her arms as he flicked his tongue over her lips. Without taking his mouth from hers, he shifted and pulled her across his lap, thrusting his tongue into her and pressing her body against the growing bulge at his groin.
The room lurched for Catherine. Sensation poured through her lower body as never before. All of it mingled with the feel of his hand pushing her negligee off her arms, and slipping her gown down to reveal one high, firm breast. He took his mouth from hers to gaze intently as his fingers circled the nipple.
“Ah.” As the rosy crest tightened, he leaned down to cover it with his mouth. His tongue made lazy circles, and Catherine moaned, arching upward. Caldbeck’s hand slid down her, across her stomach to the joining of her legs, and applied a gentle pressure. Her head dropped back, and instinctively she lifted her hips against his hand. All at once he stood, scooping her into his arms and carrying her to the bed. Her robe fell unnoticed to the floor.
Caldbeck set her upright long enough for the gown to follow, and then lifted her onto the bed. Still breathless, she watched as he stripped off his clothes. His erection sprang outward from the thick, night-black curls spreading across his groin. The same dark hair covered his broad chest in a black veil and ran in a V down his stomach. His warm, male scent washed over her.
He lay down beside her, propping his head on his hand so that he could see the length of her body. He touched the sapphires briefly, tasting the skin around them with small kisses. He began to lightly stroke her breasts, her belly and the inside of her thighs, brushing them with his fingertips.
Catherine had never felt anything like this. Every muscle in her body tightened. Heat and sensation throbbed at the apex of her legs. She sighed and stretched her arms over her head against the pillow.
“So beautiful. So much fire.” Caldbeck trailed his tongue over her breasts and kissed one taut nipple. Catherine’s whole body quivered. His mouth moved over her, to her waist, her navel.
Now his hand was doing something between her legs, while his lips tantalized her nipple. Darkness closed in around the edges of her vision, and her world narrowed to the touch of his hand, the warmth of his mouth and the rush of feeling they were creating. Desire grew in her until she thought she must explode.
Suddenly, she did explode.
The world went dark. Myriad tiny lights sparkled across her vision, and every inch of her skin tingled and throbbed. She could hear her own voice gasping and crying out as the flood of sensation engulfed her. She writhed in his arms.
His weight came down on her, and he joined his body with hers while she yet fought for breath. She was dimly aware of pain and pressure and the rhythm of his movements. The world still whirled around her as she heard his hoarse cry, felt his powerful hips pumping his seed into her. Gradually he quieted, and with him, the world settled back into its accustomed place.
Withdrawing, Caldbeck rolled to one side, taking her with him so that her head rested on his shoulder, and his arms clasped her tightly against him. Catherine lay relaxed and drowsy, listening as his breathing and heartbeat slowed.
After several minutes he asked, “Are you in pain?”
Catherine shook her head. She ached and stung a little, but not enough to disturb her lassitude. “No,” she answered, “not to signify.”
“Did you find the experience satisfactory?”
Catherine pulled back enough to smile at him. “Well, my lord, I have nothing against which to judge it, but I should say that I found it entirely satisfactory.” His eyes did not change, but his lips softened a little, and for a moment she thought he would smile.
Then he pressed her close again. “Your passion is quite as wonderful as I imagined.”
Catherine waited for more words—an endearment, perhaps?—but none were forthcoming. She sighed. At least, thus far, the earl seemed pleased with his bargain. She was foolish to wish for more.
Another woman. Now his lordship had brought one into the dale. He had seen her. The earl had lifted her out of the carriage, his hands on her body. Her body! A shudder convulsed him. The hateful warmth spread across his loins, and he struck at it with his fist, wailing his anguish. Pain burst over him, but the heat was not cast out. She glowed in his memory. Burned like a flame against the black sky. Like a demon, screaming in his soul. He could endure the evil no longer! It was claiming him. He must drive it out! Out of all of them!
Chapter Four
Catherine wakened in the curtained bed to the sound of hot water cans scraping against the hearth, and the refreshing smell of lavender. Apparently Sally was preparing a bath for her. That was strange. Catherine hadn’t ordered one. She rolled over and winced, every part of her stiff and aching. Little wonder! She had spent several hours, with very short periods of rest, either twisting and moaning in ecstasy under his lordship’s expert hands and mouth, or caught up in the rhythm of his hard body against hers. A small, delicious shiver of remembrance took her. However icy his features and manner, the frost clearly did not extend to his blood!
She was no longer curious.
She sat up and cautiously peeked under the covers. Oh, yes. A largish red smear definitely stained the bedding. She groaned silently. Now there was no doubt at all that the whole staff would shortly be apprised of the change in status of their lord’s and lady’s relationship. How could she look Sally in the eye?
And what had happened to her nightgown?
She found it lying across the foot of the bed. Caldbeck must have placed it there when he arose, leaving her to sleep on. She gathered up his empty pillow and buried her face in it. Yes, she could still smell the smoky, masculine fragrance. It sent another shiver through her.
She pulled the gown over her head and slipped her feet out of the covers. Sally turned as she heard the rustle of the drapes, and hurried to help Catherine pull them back. The maid was all cheery nonchalance.
“Good morning, my lady. Hardraw gave me your message to prepare your bath.”
Hardraw? Oh, yes, Caldbeck’s valet. That explained the bath—the earl’s instructions, no doubt. A twinge of annoyance swept through Catherine. What did he think he was doing, ordering her bath? She pushed the irritation aside and decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth. She needed that bath.
“I hope you slept well, miss. It’s another lovely day.”
Sally bustled about pouring hot water into the copper tub. When the temperature satisfied her, she motioned to Catherine, who stepped into it. Ahh! She slid down until the hot water lapped at her chin.
“Mrs. Hawes suggested I steep the lavender first. So refreshing it is.” Sally handed her a face cloth.
Catherine resisted making an unladylike grimace. Another person minding her business. She replied with noncommittal murmurs until the warm water and soothing herbs had soaked away her discomfort.
An hour later, feeling quite renewed, Catherine made her way to the breakfast parlor and found her husband—yes, truly her husband now—finishing his breakfast. He stood as she entered the room.
“Good morning. I trust you rested well?” Caldbeck’s cool gaze took in the flush that Catherine could feel burning in her face.
“Uh…yes.” She decided to be gracious. “Thank you for ordering the bath. You are very considerate.”
“The mark of a gentleman.” His eyes never flickered, but this time Catherine was sure she detected the slightest change in his voice. Was he teasing her? It seemed so unlikely, yet…
“I see you are attired for riding. Are you certain you still wish to do so this morning?”
Catherine could feel her face positively flaming. “I believe I do. I…I do not ride astride.”
“A fortunate circumstance.”
Catherine cast him a suspicious glance. There it was again—that minute change of tone. He was teasing her.
Wasn’t he?
“Indeed.” She put a touch of ice into her own voice.
His lordship, of course, did not react to it. “Then when you have eaten, let us be on our way.”
They rode in the crisp fall air across the rolling dales, Catherine’s new hunter and Caldbeck’s dapple gray cantering along companionably. The hills, crowned here and there with autumn woods and dotted with white sheep, rose green against an indigo sky. Small watercourses raced down from the heights, cutting into the soil and plunging over outcrops of stone in diminutive waterfalls. A hint of wood smoke prickled their nostrils.
Catherine flung a quick look at her husband. He sat ramrod straight in the saddle, his shoulders square, his muscular thighs expertly guiding his mount. The superfine of his coat fit smoothly across his back, and his hat rested at what could only be called a dashing angle. How could she ever have missed that bold physical aspect of him? Now she could see nothing else.
Her happy mood expanded to encompass the whole landscape. To her, all the colors glowed with unusual brightness, and the breeze blew soft and caressing. “Oh! This is so beautiful.” Catherine’s gesture took in a complete circle. “Is Yorkshire always so lovely?”
“The Dales are well known for their beauty,” his lordship replied with his usual moderation.
Today his tone did not dampen Catherine’s spirits. “I have always loved visiting in the country, though I wanted more opportunity to do it. My uncle always lived in London.”
“I much prefer the country.” Caldbeck drew rein. “I especially wish to show you an old manor house on a piece of land I am thinking of buying—known as the old Buck Manor. It might make just the headquarters for your children’s relief work. It has plenty of room to house orphans, also. Like Wulfdale, it has some very old sections, plus some newer ones, and a home farm.”
“Oh! That would be wonderful. I would love to see it.” Catherine restrained herself with difficulty from bouncing excitedly in her saddle. “A farm would be perfect. Children need chores to teach them responsibility—but not all the time, mind you. They need some time to play. In some of the institutions for homeless children the conditions are so strict as to be abusive. Even in the foundling hospitals so many of the babies die. I don’t want mine to be like that. I want them to have a home.”
Caldbeck nodded his head to the west, and they cantered off in that direction. “And were you assigned chores, Kate, as a child?”
Catherine wrinkled her nose. “Oh, yes. Or, at least, while my parents were living. My aunt and uncle never bothered. They let me do pretty much as I wished, as long as I stayed out of their way. But when I was little, I had to sort and wind all Mama’s embroidery silks and yarn, and to walk her little dog and read to my grandmother when I grew older. I never minded reading to Grandmama, though. She was such a dear.” Her face clouded a little. “I missed her very much when she died.”
“You have a tender heart.”
“Do you think so?” Catherine pursed her lips thoughtfully. “I never thought of myself that way, nor has anyone else, apparently. Everyone talks only of my terrible temper.”
The earl glanced at her again. “So I have been told.”
She rolled her eyes skyward. “You are very calm about it now. I wonder how you will feel when you encounter it.”
“An interesting speculation, indeed.” Caldbeck reined in his mount and pointed down into a little valley. “There is the house, and just beyond it is the byre. Shall we inspect it now?”
“Certainly!” Catherine nudged her horse, and Caldbeck followed her down the hill.
The house was, in fact, quite large. Four wings enclosed an old courtyard, and numerous chimneys made their way to the roof to stand out against the blue of the sky. The mildewed gray stones needed mortar in places, and shrubbery grew over the few windows that were visible.
“Why are most of the windows filled in with stone? Did they do it for defense?” Catherine turned to her husband.
“More likely because of the window tax. It should be no great task to uncover them.” Caldbeck evaluated the structure with narrowed eyes. “The house is defensible, however. The windows were probably added long after the house was built.”
Squinting dubiously, Catherine urged her chestnut through the portal into the courtyard. Following her in, Caldbeck dismounted and lifted her from the sidesaddle. As Catherine scanned the yard, a shudder ran down her spine. She stopped in her tracks. “My lord, do you feel that someone is watching us?”
“No.” Caldbeck looked around. “And I don’t see anyone.”
Catherine’s gaze followed his around the enclosure. “I…it’s odd. Probably I am just being fanciful.”
He looked down at her and took her arm. “You do have a lively imagination, Kate, but also a strong intuition, I should think. But there does not seem to be anyone here.”
Catherine nodded, gratified by his seriousness. Her uncle had always declared her notions to be foolish past permission. Together they entered the largest door opening onto the yard. The hall smelled musty, but not damp. As they wandered from room to room through lopsided doors and up and down odd little staircases, Catherine’s enthusiasm for the house increased.
“This is a delightful place! One never knows what lies beyond the next door. Children will love it.”
“Very well, then. If you like it, I shall complete the sale.”
“You believe it can be restored?”
Caldbeck examined the plaster near him. “Yes, it’s sound enough. We can begin with the newer portions and leave the very old ones to the end.” He pushed open a door and stopped in the doorway. “That must certainly be removed. It’s a wonder the place has not burned to the ground.”
Catherine squeezed past him to look and giggled. Hay filled the room. “Oh, my. Someone has used it as a hay barn.” She kicked at a pile of hay. “But not recently, I think.”
“No, the hay is old.” Caldbeck came up behind her and circled her waist with his arms. “It is dry, however.”
He bent to kiss the back of her neck. A tiny quiver ran through Catherine. The familiar melting sensation started in her stomach as he touched his tongue to her ear. His hands slipped, one upward and one downward, cupping her breast and stroking her belly. Catherine relaxed against him.
Just as Caldbeck turned her toward him, they heard a rustle in the hay, and something darted across Catherine’s foot. She shrieked. Caldbeck tightened his hold and swung her quickly away from the pile of hay.
“There are rats!” She shrunk back against him.
Caldbeck ushered her toward the door. This time she was certain he sighed. “Yes,” he agreed, “there are rats.”
Riding homeward, Catherine discoursed on her plans for the orphanage. Her husband listened indulgently, occasionally offering a comment or suggestion. She rattled on about tutors and a matron and a manager for the farm. She describe her vision for the interior. She debated what livestock would be suitable and how the children should be dressed. “And we shall call it the Buck Orphan Asylum.”
“I believe,” his lordship interjected, “that the Lady Caldbeck Home for Orphans would be more appropriate.”
“Do you think so? I would love that!” Catherine launched anew into her vision for her charges.
At last the earl threw up an arresting hand. “Enough. I can see that you are going to bankrupt me in a twelve-month.”
Catherine looked quickly to see if he were in earnest. Of course, she could not tell. Annoyed by that fact, she looked at him archly. “Worrying about your investment, my lord?”
“Not yet.”
“Very good, then. I shall race you back to the stable.”
Without further warning she kicked her mount and tore away at a gallop. She could hear the thunder of hooves behind her as the gray responded to her challenge. Laughing, she leaned into the wind and urged the hunter on. The stable could be seen across a gentle hill, and she made for it, easily clearing several dry-stone walls as she came to them.
Her mare came from fine stock, but the earl’s stallion was both larger and stronger. Inexorably the gray head began to pull alongside her. As she coaxed the chestnut to greater speed, she realized that it was Caldbeck’s superior knowledge of the terrain that was going to bring about her certain defeat. He was veering off to the right.
Seeking the reason, Catherine spied, hidden in a fold of the land, a small watercourse with a low stone wall on the other side. She would have to turn to the right, also, and that would throw her far behind her husband. She considered her options.
If she followed the earl and avoided the barrier, she would never catch the faster horse. The ravine, however, extended too far for an easy jump, and the wall on the other side might conceal a yet unseen hazard. It was a dangerous obstacle. Apparently, Caldbeck did not want to make the attempt, and he knew the land. Or perhaps he thought that she could not manage it and thus led her away.
Suddenly Catherine fervently wanted to win.
She did not want to lose to this icy, enigmatic man who had taken control of her life. She eyed the ravine, gauged the narrowest spot and put the hunter straight at it.
The hunter was a good horse. With a mighty lunge she sailed over the ravine and cleared the wall, her hind hoof just clipping the stones. As the chestnut landed on the rough ground, her speed carried her too far forward, and she broke stride to regain her balance. The change of rhythm, added to the momentum of the leap, jarred Catherine’s knee free of the saddle, and she parted company with her mount.
She fell hard. The breath knocked out of her, she sat up gasping like a landed fish, her skirts around her waist. She vaguely heard pounding hooves coming toward her. Caldbeck had come around the end of the ravine and had his horse at a dead run. He pulled in a few feet from her, vaulted out of the saddle before his mount had stopped moving, and ran to where she sat.
“Kate! Are you hurt?” For once she could actually hear urgency in his voice.
“N-no. I’m fine. I think.” She became able to breathe again. “‘No fence you can’t get over with a fall’,” she quoted, trying to grin carelessly. She looked up into her husband’s face. He did not wear a comforting expression, and she hastily looked elsewhere. The small tingle of fear returned as he looked coldly down at her. The fall had shaken her worse than she wanted to admit, and she didn’t feel up to bravado.