Captive of Sin (21 page)

He cleared his throat and shifted his gaze above her head. “I’m sleeping in the parlor. I think…I think it’s best.”

With unsteady hands, she grabbed a shawl and slid out of bed. Ignoring the resistance in his face, she stepped close enough to read ravaging torment in his dark eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous, Gideon. It’s cold and uncomfortable.”

He looked at her. “After Rangapindhi, it’s the height of luxury.”

“Oh, my dear, Rangapindhi is over,” she said in a low voice. It seemed a sign of progress that he mentioned his captivity without prompting. She extended one hand toward him, then let it drop to her side. “You’re free.”

His smile held no amusement. “I’ll never be free.”

This acceptance of his fate angered her. “If you don’t fight, you won’t.”

His tall, lean body vibrating resentment, he stalked across to the fireplace. He tossed back his brandy and set the glass down sharply on the mantel. He focused a furious glare on her. “Don’t talk about what you don’t understand.”

She mustered her fading courage. She couldn’t fail at the first hurdle. Worse difficulties awaited before she gained what she wanted for him. A chance at happiness. Liberation from his past.

Her mind filled with a sudden memory of the stark desire in his face as he’d looked at her body last night. Had she nerve to use that weapon to break him?

With excruciating slowness, she let the beautiful shawl slide down. Her new nightdress was silk, and while far from immodest, had been designed by Madame Claire with a honeymoon in mind.

Color lined his slanted cheekbones as his eyes followed the slipping shawl, then returned to trace the dip of the neckline over her breasts. She shivered under that heated gaze and was suddenly overwhelmingly aware that sheer white material clung to hips and buttocks and swirled around her bare legs. The strange hot weight, familiar from last night, settled in her belly. Her heart set up a rapid tattoo of excitement.

“I understand you’ve decided to wallow in self-pity for the remainder of your days,” she said, knowing she wasn’t fair. But this wasn’t about fairness. This was about ripping at his control until his memories lost their grip.

“You have no right to say that.” A muscle jerked erratically in his cheek. He was close to losing patience.

“I’m your wife. I can say what I like,” she said defiantly, standing straight, so her breasts pressed against the delicately embroidered bodice. The cool brush of silk on her nipples teased, built the damp heat between her legs. Her breasts swelled, yearning for his hands.

“This is a marriage of convenience,” he said, sounding strangled. He was taut as a drawn bow. His gloved hands opened and closed convulsively at his sides.

“It’s more like a marriage of inconvenience,” she shot back, taking a step in his direction and tossing her thick plait behind one shoulder.

Feverishly, his eyes clung to her. “We had a bargain.”

“Yes, my safety in return for a lifetime of unhappiness.” She fought to keep her voice steady. Difficult when every reaction she achieved from him stoked the heat inside her. “Forgive me if I seek to renegotiate.”

He turned away and closed his eyes as if he couldn’t bear to look at her. One unsteady hand curled over the edge of the mantel.

“I won’t forgive you if you make this more a nightmare than it already is.” He flung his head up and glared at her like he hated her. His furious black eyes threatened to incinerate her where she stood. “Why the hell would you want to repeat last night’s farrago? Damn it, Charis, I hurt you.”

“It doesn’t have to be like that,” she said in a ghost of her usual voice.

“For us, it does.” He sounded heartbreakingly sure.

Doubt frayed her resolution. What if she was wrong? What if her plan to help him only damaged him further? She lifted her chin and shored up her courage. “I’m not giving up, Gideon.”

His mouth thinned with anger, but when he spoke, his voice was frigid. “You will. This is a war you can’t win.”

She spread her hands in helpless bewilderment. He had so much strength. Why didn’t he enlist it in his own cause? “Don’t you want a real life?”

His short laugh was so harsh, it flayed like flying shards of glass. “Of course I do.”

She fought the impulse to retreat. She’d known when she chose this path that her greatest enemy would be Gideon himself. “Your memories aren’t always in control,” she said hoarsely. “I saw you in Portsmouth. You knocked down any man within reach. You weren’t afraid to touch people then.”

“Yes, I find relief in violence.” His voice roughened into sarcasm. “Are you suggesting I beat you?”

She blinked back hot tears. How easy to make optimistic promises when she lay alone in her bed. Less so facing his stubborn intransigence.

He was so angry and lost, and he defended himself the
only way he could. She knew he acted for her sake. He firmly believed he wasn’t worthy of her love. He believed living with him would destroy her. Limitless self-loathing was one of the toxic fruits of Rangapindhi.

Could she change his mind? Did she have the power to reach him? “Gideon…” she protested huskily.

He stiffened and glared at her. “Don’t be a fool. I’d never hurt you.”

She bent her head. “You’re hurting me now.”

She glanced up to see his face darken with remorse. He made one of those strange truncated gestures she’d noticed from the first. “Charis, don’t.”

She shook her head and twined her arms around herself. She was cold with a chill of the soul more than the body. If only he’d take her in his arms and warm her. “I can’t help it,” she whispered.

He stepped close enough for her to feel his living heat. How could he consign himself to a cold tomb of isolation?

“I’ve done you a great wrong,” he said with a regret that made her want to cry.

“No.”

“Yes, I have. I hoped to preserve your freedom by tying you to a man who made no demands. Instead, I’ve only brought you pain.”

“I want to be your wife,” she said obstinately.

“You are my wife.”

“Not in any way that counts.”

He sighed heavily and ran his hand through his hair. “Charis, you ask too much.”

“Better than asking nothing at all,” she snapped back.

His eyes flashed, and he swung away. She knew it was unjust to berate him over what he couldn’t change.

Something women always said when they made less-than-satisfactory marriages.

He looked tired, discouraged. Her demands couldn’t be easy. He’d come to an unknown woman’s rescue and adopted responsibilities that took over his life.

Except she didn’t believe he felt like that. In her heart, she believed he could love her. Sometimes, she caught him staring at her with such hunger, her heart skipped a beat.

“All I can promise is once we’ve established our marriage’s legality, you can set up home anywhere,” he said with a coldness she knew was meant to put her at a distance. “You need never see me again. This interlude will become only an unhappy memory.”

“You think that’s what I want?” she asked bitterly.

“You must make it what you want.” He stepped away with an ironic gesture of one gloved hand. “Now go to bed.”

Her temper had stirred distantly as she’d listened to his self-sacrificing statements. Now it sparked. Her jaw tensed. “Are you going to sleep by my side?” she asked in a dangerous tone.

He looked surprised. He needed to learn she wasn’t an obedient hound to leap to his slightest command. He asked her to leave him alone to go to perdition. But she wasn’t allowing him his way. The determination that had gripped her before he appeared returned full force. She wouldn’t let him settle for this barren half-life he mapped out.

“No, of course not.” He frowned. “Haven’t you heard a word?”

“I’ve heard everything, and I agree with none of it.”

“We’ll talk in the morning.”

Her lips tightened. “I’m sure we will.”

“So good night.” He turned toward the door, then must have realized she hadn’t shifted. He confronted her with a frown of irritation. “Do you want something before I go?”

“I want you to come to bed.”

His lips quirked in a sour grimace. “After what happened there, any normal woman would run shrieking.”

She flinched at the
normal woman
remark but didn’t budge. “I’m not asking you to do…that again.” Hot color rushed into her cheeks.

“So you want a chaste bedmate?” His voice dripped derision.

She drew a harsh breath. “I want you with me, Gideon.”

“No.”

“All right. I’ll sleep in the parlor.” She folded her arms and stared at him implacably.

“Don’t be absurd,” he said with the beginnings of real anger. She realized until now he hadn’t taken her seriously.

Of course he didn’t. He thought she was a fragile young thing who needed protecting. Before they were done, he’d learn his wife possessed a will at least as strong as his. And a heart as valiant. She meant to fight for her marriage. She meant to fight for his future.

“Get into that bed now,” he growled.

She shivered although the room wasn’t cold. “Make me.”

He straightened, and she watched rage war with frustration on his face. “You’re acting like a child.”

She shrugged and scooped the shawl from where it lay at her feet. “Shall I take the chair tonight?” She spoke with a nonchalance she didn’t feel.

His jaw moved as he ground his teeth. Another shiver rippled through her. There was forbidden excitement in taunting him.

“Devil take you,” he grated out, taking a step closer.

She wrapped the shawl around her shoulders and hoped to heaven he didn’t take her at her word and make her sit up all night. The bedroom was warm, the parlor wasn’t. She’d be blue within an hour, and after the last two nights, the prospect of stretching out in a soft bed was alluring.

She angled her chin and sent him the haughty stare she’d employed on a hundred importunate suitors. “Do you mean to herd me into the bed, Gideon?”

“You…”

She raised her eyebrows. “Yes?”

“You damned witch.” His eyes glittered with fury.

Her belly quivered with nerves. And something far more powerful. “Hardly polite.”

“Oh, hell!”

He lashed out and grabbed her around the waist. In one
furious movement, he swept her off her feet and bundled her against his chest.

She’d waited for this, prayed for it. Even so, the shock of his arms holding her high, the heat of his skin through his shirt, his sheer vibrating fury made her gasp.

His hands tightened, and he stared straight ahead. “You asked for this,” he snarled, marching toward the bed.

Yes, she had. Thank the Lord, she’d got it. Tentatively, she slid one hand behind his neck, tangling her fingers in the silky hair at his nape. He didn’t seem to notice.

“How dare you use brute force against me?” She wanted to sound outraged. The best she could manage was a dull sulkiness. While all the time, her heart danced.

“You should have thought of that before,” he bit out.

The distant courtesy he cultivated before the world was gone. Instead, he was big, angry, commanding and breathtakingly male. A thrill sizzled through her right to her cold toes.

He reached the edge of the mattress. “Good night, Charis.”

Unceremoniously, he dropped her to the tumbled sheets in a tangle of legs and arms and silky white nightgown.

For a moment, she lay winded, staring up at him. He’d had no difficulty carrying her. For all his leanness, he was very strong. The thought sent another thrill rocketing through her.

“How…” She paused and sucked in another breath. “How are you going to keep me here?”

“I could tie you up.” He still sounded angry.

“You wouldn’t.”

“And gag you. Gagging seems a capital idea.”

She pressed down into the mattress, wondering why the idea of her husband binding her made her belly tighten with excitement. “I’d bite you,” she said breathlessly.

He closed his eyes as if praying for strength. “Devil take you, Charis…”

He turned away. Her heart sank as she waited for him to head for the door. After all her efforts, she’d lost. She ached with weariness. The day had been long and difficult for her
as well as him. If she gave up tonight, would she have the will to fight again tomorrow?

Desperately, she scrambled for some argument to stop him retreating into the lonely fortress of the parlor. But she’d reached the limits of her persuasion. He’d touched her, and logic fled. All she knew was she’d do anything to make him touch her again.

He veered left before he exited the room and dropped onto a stool near the door. Violently he began to tug at his boots.

Relief welled. And wild rejoicing. She could hardly believe it. He stayed.

More, he confirmed her theory that at heights of emotion, he escaped his affliction. He’d touched her, carried her. He hadn’t trembled or flinched. He’d been too furious to remember Rangapindhi.

Could a fever of desire achieve similar results?

The light was strong enough for her to see he was still annoyed. It was clear in his jerky movements and the flat line of his mouth.

“Do you want some help?” she asked in a shaky voice.

“Don’t push it, Charis,” he said grimly. He stood up on his bare feet and prowled across to the bed, umbrage bristling from every line of his long body.

She moved to give him room and snuggled under the blankets. The intimacy of his presence tonight seemed more intense than yesterday’s reluctant consummation.

He slid into the bed and stretched out on his back. No part of his body touched hers.

“Aren’t you going to undress?” she asked, although the question was inane. He lay next to her fully clothed. Clearly he meant to remain that way.

“No.”

Heavens, he even kept his gloves on. She realized with a shock she’d never seen his naked hands.

That abruptly struck her as significant. Gentlemen wore gloves as a matter of course, and it was winter. But Gideon didn’t feel the cold, and she’d seen him without neckcloth
and in his shirtsleeves, both far greater faux pas than forgetting his gloves. It seemed odd he was punctilious on this one matter of dress.