Читать книгу A Perilous Attraction - Patricia Frances Rowell - Страница 12

Catherine’s vivid carriage ensemble splashed emerald against the silver-gray of the traveling coach, contrasting brightly with the few glowing curls revealed by her bonnet. Caldbeck, as usual in immaculate dove-gray, handed her up while she yet called instructions to Sally. Her maid, nodding her understanding, climbed into the coach she would share with his lordship’s valet, Hardraw. Gray-liveried footmen found their places, and the postilions set the powerful team of matched grays in motion.

Catherine, excited to be starting on the longest journey she had ever made, yet felt sad to be leaving London. She had lived in Town all her life, as did all her friends. When might she see Liza again? Yorkshire was much too far away from London for a casual visit. It might be months or even years.

How she would miss her! Liza’s veneer of outward silliness covered a shrewd mind and a kind heart. She had been Catherine’s confidante for all the lonely years since Catherine had lost her parents. And lucky Liza had a husband who adored her!

Catherine, one cheek resting against the window, watched the passing scene as they swept through the busy streets. In spite of herself the warmth of a tear trickled down her face. She surreptitiously blotted it away with her scrap of a lace handkerchief. A second tear followed the first, and soon the handkerchief became a soggy mess. Catherine dropped it into her reticule, sniffing as quietly as she could manage. A flicker of white from the far side of the coach caught her eye. Turning ever so slightly toward it, she discovered a large, white square of linen being offered to her.

Catherine took it, choking out her thanks. As she blew her nose, she felt the warmth of a large hand on her knee. Caldbeck said nothing, but did not move his hand until they had left London behind. At last her sobs grew silent, her eyes were again dry and her nose ceased running. He then began to point out items of interest along the road, calling her attention to the rich colors of fall and the beauty of the countryside.

“And the roads, so far, are better than I had hoped. I’m afraid that the farther north we get, the worse they will become. We’ve had a very wet summer followed by a dry autumn. The ruts will be hardened into stone.”

“How long do you expect us to be on the road?”

Caldbeck shifted to lean comfortably against the velvet upholstery in his corner, facing her. Catherine followed his example in her own corner.

“Ordinarily four days. If we encounter very bad roads, it will take another day, and if you like, we might take a day of rest near the Peak District. It is quite a pleasing sight at this time of year.”

A pleasing sight. Catherine smiled to herself. His lordship was hardly given to hyperbole. Thinking back, she remembered that the strongest word she had ever heard him use was “beautiful.” At the time she had thought it only a gentlemanly compliment, but she begin to hear a different significance.

“You seem to have a great appreciation of beautiful sights.”

Caldbeck considered a moment. “Yes. I have.”

Silence fell. So much for that conversational gambit. Catherine tried again. “Is Wulfdale very lovely?”

“I consider it so.”

She waited a moment, then sighed. “Tell me about it.”

After a thoughtful minute, Caldbeck nodded. “The house is very old and has been enlarged in many stages, some of them more attractive than others. It began in the twelfth century as a pele tower. Then a hall was added, and it continued to grow from there. The Tudor portions are a veritable maze, but the recent sections are more tasteful. The Georgian front was finished in 1750, and is quite impressive. I think you will like it.”

Well, thought Catherine, that’s some progress. “Are there gardens?”

“Yes. Several, in fact.”

Did she hear a bit more warmth in his voice? Catherine pricked her ears, but could not be sure.

“We have a knot garden, and one for roses, but my favorites are the natural garden and the woodland. You should find them very pretty in their autumn foliage.”

Sudden perception dawned on Catherine. He wants me to like the place. He should, after trapping me into this marriage! In spite of the annoying reflection, the thought touched her.

“I’m sure I shall like it very much.” She smiled. “And tell me…does Wulfdale have a ghost?”

“A ghost?”

“Yes, of course. A house that old must surely have at least one ghost?”

His lordship appeared to consider. “Nothing much. Unless you count the headless bride. She is very seldom seen.”

Catherine, who loved ghost stories, clapped her hands over her mouth in delight. “The…the what?”

“Headless bride. But she carries her head, of course, with her veil draped over her arm.”

“Oh.” Catherine felt a little thrill slide down her backbone. “And how…?”

Caldbeck viewed her levelly. “How did she lose her head?”

Catherine nodded.

“She displeased her husband, the first earl.”

His frigid voice blew over her like a winter storm, quenching her enjoyment of the story. For a moment Catherine sat silent with horror. What did that frozen countenance hide? She looked more closely at her new husband. She could see no change in the chill eyes, but felt something….She couldn’t quite put her finger on it….She spoke uncertainly, eyes narrowed.

“My lord, are you teasing me?”

Caldbeck’s silvery eyes regarded her without expression.

“I?” asked his lordship.

Taking stock of her new husband, Catherine decided that she did know more about him than she had when she married him. But not much.

He was quite ruthless. She still felt very cautious with him. He had not hesitated to kick her door in, and the way he had orchestrated her acceptance of his proposal was as masterful as it was infuriating. Catherine still chafed at having been so manipulated. Nonetheless, her faults did not include repining. Having agreed, she would do what she could to make the best of the situation.

Her curiosity regarding the marriage bed increased in direct proportion to the time spent with him in the close confines of the carriage. A subtle scent surrounded him, warm, almost smoky, mixed with wool and starch. It stirred her senses. She found herself casting furtive glances across the width of the carriage. Caldbeck sat as coolly as ever, one booted leg propped on the opposite seat to buttress himself against the lurching of the coach.

As he had predicted, the roads had gotten steadily worse. Catherine rocked back and forth in the seat, clinging to the overhead strap and bouncing against the wall of the narrow space. By the fifth day, having slept—alone—in several inns, in varying degrees of discomfort, she felt decidedly buffeted and bruised. Her long legs would reach the far seat, and unladylike though it might be, she was on the verge of steadying herself as he did.

As though he read her mind, Caldbeck turned his gray gaze on her and held out one hand. “Come here, Kate.”

Startled, Catherine looked at him in question. Surely he would not choose such a moment to make love to her!

“You are being unmercifully battered by this infernal jolting. Here…No, turn, so.” Following his guiding hands, Catherine found herself leaning across his lap, her breasts against his chest, her feet drawn up onto the seat. One strong leg, knee bent, now braced her back, and an equally muscular arm gripped the strap and supported her head. “Is that better?”

She looked up shyly to answer and found penetrating eyes looking intently into hers. Her breathing faltered, and her loins flooded with warmth. Without taking his eyes from her face, Caldbeck untied her bonnet ribbons with his free hand and tossed the confection onto the opposite seat. Liberated, her bright hair flared into a nimbus around her face. His fingers threaded through the glowing cloud and lifted her head.

His eyes might be cold, but his lips were very warm. So was his tongue. He brushed it along her mouth, inviting her to open. After a moment’s hesitation she did so and felt an intriguing tickle on the inner side of her lip. She gasped for breath, and his tongue slid farther into her. Catherine went suddenly weak.

At that inopportune instant the coach hit an especially deep pothole, jerking her face away from his. She lifted her eyes and found him gazing into them. She thought that, perhaps, he sighed.

“Try to sleep, Kate. I believe we should push on to Wulfdale tonight, and it will be quite late before we arrive.”

So, protected by his strong body, she did.

It was indeed late when the carriage turned onto better-kept roads and made its way across Wulfdale’s rolling hills to the lights of the looming gray-stone mansion. At the sound of wheels in the drive, the old house came to life. Footmen in gray livery hastened down the front steps, and grooms came running from the stables. Catherine shivered with fatigue and cold as Caldbeck lifted her off the coach steps into the chill night air.

With great dignity a portly, silver-haired man descended the steps and bowed. “My lord, welcome home. My lady.” The butler’s appraising glance rested on her only a moment before he bowed again. “It is a pleasure to welcome you to Wulfdale.”

Before Catherine could answer, a plump woman hurried down the steps and curtseyed. “Welcome! Welcome, my lord! We were sure you would be here by tonight. You have brought us a bride at last! Do come in, my lady.” The housekeeper extended an inviting hand. “You must be perishing of weariness.”

Caldbeck nodded at the couple. “Allow me to present to you Hawes and Mrs. Hawes, Lady Caldbeck. I’m sure Mrs. Hawes will see to your comfort immediately. I must confer with Hawes for a time, but I shall show you around your new home tomorrow.”

“Right you are, my lord.” Mrs. Hawes guided Catherine up the steps. “It’s very happy we are to have you here, my lady.”

The housekeeper led her into a hall of grand and impressive proportions and up two pair of graceful, curving stairs to the second floor. They crossed an elegant salon to the door of a huge bedchamber decorated in feminine fabrics and soft greens. A Dresden clock graced the mantelpiece, along with several dainty china ornaments. Catherine was torn between collapsing on the bed, half seen in the shadowy corner, or on the cushiony sofa before the cheerfully crackling fire.

The sofa was closer.

“Now, my lady, don’t you worry about a thing. I shall help you this evening myself. I’m sure your young maid will be as done up as you are. She’ll be shown right to her room.”

A twinge of guilt assaulted Catherine. She had hardly spared a thought for Sally. The girl must indeed be exhausted.

“Good, here’s Betty with the tray. There’s cheese and biscuits and some mulled wine. I knew you would be chilled. Just let me help you off with your pelisse and pretty bonnet. Now…You have a little taste of wine while I see to getting your dressing case and trunk up here.”

Mrs. Hawes bustled out of the room, and Catherine took a grateful sip of the mulled wine, too tired to do more than nibble at the cheese. But she found the wine sweet and strong and warm. She had almost dozed off when the housekeeper returned with footmen carrying her baggage.

As soon as the men had been shooed out of the room, Mrs. Hawes set about laying out Catherine’s nightgown and brushes, and before she knew it, Catherine found herself tucked up in the big curtained bed, drowsily watching the flicker of the fire through the drapes. It seemed that her husband, once again, would not join her, but that was just as well. She was too tired to have even a shred of curiosity left.

Catherine awoke shortly before noon the next morning, as Sally pulled back the bed curtains. The welcome smell of hot chocolate wafted to her from the bed table.

“Good morning, miss…oh!” Sally giggled. “I mean, my lady. Have you had a look at this house? Did you see your very own drawing room? Grand, miss, very grand! I believe his lordship’s room is through the dressing rooms. That door leads to his, and that one to yours.” She waved a vague hand and turned to open the window curtains. “And a fine day it is, too. Chilly a bit, but fine.”

Catherine sat forward while Sally arranged her pillows. “I must have slept half the day.”

“Very nearly, mi—my lady. And I slept till a sinful hour myself. So kind as Mrs. Hawes is, she told them to let me rest. I wouldn’t have waked you yet, but his lordship is to take you around the place himself. I know you’ll want to look your best.” Sally giggled again.

Catherine viewed her henchwoman through a half-open eye. Speculation must be running riot among the staff. Sally could not help but know that she and his lordship had not yet shared a bed, and if any member of a household knew something, everyone knew it. Catherine groaned to herself. Heaven help her the morning after they did take that step!

By two o’clock she had breakfasted and—dressed in a deep purple morning dress, her fiery hair subdued with many pins and a pair of gold combs—set forth to find his lordship. After asking directions twice, she discovered him in his library. He came quickly to his feet as she stepped through the door.

“Good day. I hope you slept well?”

“Yes, thank you. Sally let me sleep an unconscionably long time. I hope I haven’t kept you waiting too long.”

“No. I wanted you to rest. I did not arise at my usual hour myself. Are you ready to meet your staff?” He offered her his arm.

They spent the next two hours in a tour of the reception rooms and introductions to every member of the staff, from Caldbeck’s secretary to the bootboy. Catherine found it astonishing that Caldbeck knew them all. Her head swam with names and faces. Without a guide, she might never find her way from the formal dining room to her bedchamber.

Caldbeck’s secretary, Richard Middleton, was the younger son of the local vicar. A slender young man with a shy expression, he greeted Catherine gravely, welcomed her to Wulfdale and quickly returned to his duties.

Caldbeck did not take her through every part of the mansion. “I’m sure you will find the older sections interesting, but you will likely enjoy exploring them at your leisure.”

Catherine looked sideways at him. “Is that where I shall find the headless bride?”

“Of course.”

“Then perhaps you’d best escort me.”

Caldbeck paused for a minute before answering. “That might be best,” he finally agreed.

Catherine eyed him suspiciously, but he made no further rejoinder.

They toured the gardens until the late-afternoon nip in the air sent them back inside.

“We dine at seven o’clock here. I trust that is acceptable to you?” Caldbeck paused at the foot of the stairs, but did not wait for an answer. “You have time enough for a nap.”

Catherine smiled, but shook her head. “I slept all morning. Besides, I am not accustomed to sleeping in the afternoon.”

“Nevertheless, it is advisable that you do so today.”

Catherine lifted her chin rebelliously. She was just opening her mouth to explain to him that she was not a child, when she looked into a countenance so chilling, the words froze in her throat. “Oh…oh, very well. I shall at least go to my room for a while.”

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!