Dark of the Moon (31 page)

"Oh, my." Those were the first words that she said when she came back to earth. They were breathed close to his ear and surprised a laugh out of him. He still lay atop her, gasping for air as was she, but this made him raise his head and look at her.

"Oh, my?" he echoed, lifting his brows quizzically.

She smiled and said nothing more.

"Well, at least that beats 'It wasn't so bad.' I think."

She smiled again, demurely, and lowered her eyes.

"Caitlyn ..."

She flicked a look up at him.

"If you don't expand on that fascinating statement, I'm likely to wrap my hands around your lovely neck."

She grinned then, hugely, like a cat who has just enjoyed a large saucer of cream.

"I think I'm going to quite like being your mistress. I knew I would."

He frowned. "You're not my mistress. You're my affianced wife, which is a very different thing. We're to be wed. There's no shame attached to you for what we did."

Caitlyn studied him. To be his wife was her every dream come true, and yet she found she could not trap him into matrimony. She loved him too much. "You don't have to wed me, you know, Connor. Not because of this."

"What, and would you have me endanger my immortal soul?" He grinned suddenly, lightheartedly. "I'll not spend eternity roasting in Hellfire over the likes of you, you devil's imp.

I'd much rather spend eternity making love to my lawful wife, and not a whiff of sin about it. So will you or nill you, we'll be wed as soon as I can arrange it. And I don't want to hear further argument on the subject."

He was more than half teasing, but Caitlyn detected a note of seriousness beneath the banter. He had not said he loved her, yet Caitlyn was content. If he did not love her as she loved him, why, he would. She would see to that. As she had told him earlier, she meant to be a very good wife. Then she bethought herself of something.

"I'll have no more of your visits to Meredith Congreve," she told him, scowling.

He looked down at her for a moment, then grinned, all traces of seriousness vanishing.

"But, cuilin, I thought you knew: all married men keep a mistress on the side. 'Tis quite the thing. And after all, 'tis you who'll be my wife."

She doubled up her fist and hit him squarely in the shoulder, though she knew he was but teasing her.

"I'll not share, Connor," she told him with mock fierceness. He bent his head to kiss her.

"Nor will I, my own, so I'll be warned if you will. When we wed, we cleave to one another, for life."

"I'd never play you false, Connor."

"Aye, I know it. You haven't a false bone in your luscious little body." He rolled off her and got to his feet in a single lithe movement, moving purposefully away in the darkness. She rose on an elbow to watch him.

"What are you doing?" she asked, mystified, when he came back with a towel.

"I'm going to give you a bed bath, button you into your nightgown, and carry you back to your own bed. Until we're wed, you'll sleep alone. I'll have no scandal about this marriage."

"Marriage," she said dreamily, hitching herself up so that her back rested against the headboard, oblivious of her nakedness. He came around the bed and bent over her, wiping her face with the towel, which he had wetted at the washstand in the corner. She spluttered, and when he would have proceeded with the impromptu bath, she snatched the towel from his hands.

"I can bathe myself, thank you. If you'll turn your back."

"Still shy, after all we've shared? I'll have you cured of that before the ink's dry on the marriage register."

"We're not wed yet," she said positively. "And some things require privacy. Now turn your back."

He met her adamant look for a moment, grinned suddenly, and capitulated, handing over the towel and turning his back.

"You'll lead me quite a dance, won't you? But be warned: I mean to be master in my own house."

"And I mean to be mistress in mine." Caitlyn spent just an instant admiring his powerful back and taut round buttocks, then turned her attention to her impromptu bath. She washed her body quickly but thoroughly, getting out of bed to wet the towel again after a peremptory order to Connor not to turn around. When at last he did, with her permission, she was clad in her nightgown, demurely doing up the buttons. His eyes moved over her, and he grinned.

"That is the most seductive garment I've ever seen in my life. The last time you wore it in here 'twas all I could do to keep from tearing it from your body."

"I fear you're easily seduced."

He chuckled. "Not easily. Just seduced. And very thoroughly, too."

He was still naked, unashamedly so, and her eyes feasted on that tall, powerful body. The darkness of the room still veiled most details, which she regretted. Now that she no longer feared it, she was quite eager to see the man-thing. He reached for his breeches, stepped into them.

"Why are you getting dressed?"

"I told you I meant to carry you up to bed. I do."

"Don't be daft. There's no need. I can walk perfectly well."

He finished fastening the breeches, then scooped her up in his arms despite her protests.

"You'll have to learn that I mean to be obeyed. I'll not have a headstrong wife who's forever arguing with me."

"And I'll not have a domineering bully for a husband. Connor, put me down. Do you hear?"

"I hear, my own. What a bossy little wench you are! Take care that I don't take a stick to your hide once we're wed."

"You can try. Though you may end up going to your heavenly reward rather sooner that you expected."

He chuckled at that and bent his head to kiss her, right there in the hall. Caitlyn wound her arms around his neck and kissed him back with abandon. So involved was she that she never heard the door open at the end of the hall. The first she knew of Cormac's presence was when she looked up and saw him. He was standing in the doorway of his room, leaning against the jamb, a quilt hitched around his waist and a dumbfounded expression on his face. Realizing how they must look, with her in her nightgown caught high in Connor's arms, cradled against his bare chest while he kissed the life out of her, Caitlyn blushed. Connor, who had become aware of Cormac's presence a scant moment before she had, scowled at his brother over the top of Caitlyn's head as Cormac's brows lifted in an uncanny replica of the quizzical expression Connor wore at times.

"We're to be wed," Connor Said abruptly to his brother, without putting Caitlyn down.

Surprise crossed Cormac's face, to be followed by another expression that was difficult to decipher.

"Thank the lord. Maybe then things will get back to normal around here," Cormac said, then turned back to his room and closed the door. Connor and Caitlyn both stared at that closed door for a moment. Then Connor grinned and started walking again.

"Do you think he thinks my disposition will improve once I'm wed?"

' 'It could hardly get worse. You've been a bear lately."

"I've been fighting a battle with my conscience. 'Tis glad I am to report that my conscience lost."

"Oh, did it now?"

His teasing made her smile and press a kiss to the side of his face. His stubbled cheek felt rough beneath her lips. She discovered she quite liked the sensation, so she put out her tongue to test it further. At that provocation he stopped where he was, halfway up the narrow stairs to the attic, and kissed her so thoroughly that she thought she might suffocate if she didn't die of bliss first.

"A week," he said as he entered her room moments later and laid her down on the bed, deftly whisking the covers from beneath her and tucking them over her. "It shouldn't take more."

"What shouldn't take more?" Her mind was barely functioning after that dazzling kiss.

"To arrange the wedding. Of course, I'll have to explain to Father Patrick that, far from getting behind me, Satan climbed all over me before having her wicked way with me, but. ..."

Caitlyn swatted him. He grinned, planted a lengthy kiss on her mouth, and turned to go. As he started for the door she remembered something.

"Connor."

"Hmm?" He looked back at her.

"What does 'cuilin' mean?"

"Mickeen told me you didn't know your Gaelic. Ah, well, that's something else you'll soon learn. It means you, my lass with the beautiful hair." With a crooked smile he took himself off.

Caitlyn was still smiling foolishly as she fell asleep.

Connor informed his brothers of his future plans before Caitlyn came downstairs the next morning. No doubt aware of his brothers' bawdy humor, he had hoped to spare her the full brunt of their comments, but her own excitement had gotten her up early. When she appeared, a huzzah went up from the younger d'Arcys. Not having expected such a reception, she hesitated in the dining room door, eyes wide as they moved from one grinning male face to another. She had taken extra pains with her appearance that morning, brushing her hair out until it snapped with electricity and shone like Connor's best boots. Then she had secured the silky cloud at her nape with a blue velvet ribbon that exactly matched the shade of her favorite woolen gown. The dress was a trifle faded (she hadn't had a new one in some months, and washing was hard on clothes) but the color became her, and the sleeves of her shift were a pristine white. She had dressed with Connor in mind, but now, under his brothers' eyes, she feared the care she had taken must be painfully obvious. Blushing at their loudly vocal enthusiasm, she looked rather beseechingly at Connor. He rose and came to meet her, looking a trifle self-conscious himself as he smiled into her eyes.

"That's enough from the lot of you," he said, taking Caitlyn's hand in his and surveying his brothers with half- amused, half-rueful eyes.

" 'Tisn't every day we stand to gain a sister, Conn.

Especially such a one as Caitlyn," Rory pointed out, grinning.

"Should we rise at her entrance henceforth, do you think? Of course we should! Why, she's going to be a Countess!" Cormac nudged Rory and got to his feet, sweeping Caitlyn an elegant, if grossly exaggerated, bow. Rory rose and bowed too. Only Liam remained seated, looking faintly disgusted at his brothers' foolery.

"Let the lass eat in peace," Connor said, drawing her to the table and pulling out her chair for her. Caitlyn sat, put out of countenance almost as much by Connor's unprecedented courtesies as by the others' raillery but warmed by them too. The men sat when she did. A bowl of steaming porridge was slapped down before her by a stony-faced but mercifully silent Mrs.

McFee. Caitlyn could only assume from the woman's unvoiced disapproval that Connor had paved the way for her there as well. Probably he had threatened Mrs. McFee with instant dismissal if she did not keep a still tongue in her head, whatever her feelings about her employer's betrothal.

"When's the wedding to be?" Cormac inquired as they all watched Caitlyn lift a spoonful of porridge to her mouth. They had finished their breakfast, and Caitlyn realized that she was the focus of their attention. She swallowed the porridge with an effort.

"As soon as can be arranged. I've sent Mickeen with a message for Father Patrick."

Liam frowned. "Is that wise?"

Connor shrugged. "Wise or not, we'll be wed in the Church. Secretly, of course, but no less binding for all that. The official ceremony will be performed by a magistrate in Dublin. We'll be spending a se'ennight there afterward."

"Oh, a honeymoon!" Cormac nodded wisely, while Caitlyn, in the act of swallowing another bite of porridge, looked at Connor in a considering way. He had not consulted her wishes in formulating any of these plans, but she was too happy to be betrothed to him to remind him that she might have her own ideas about how she wished to be wed. Thinking the matter over, she decided that as long as it was Connor she was marrying, she didn't care a fig about the details. After the wedding would be soon enough for her to remind him that she didn't mean to be an entirely conformable wife.

Liam cleared his throat. His blue eyes met Caitlyn's fleetingly before moving on to Connor.

"That should give us sufficient time to remove ourselves to other quarters. By the time you're ready to set up housekeeping here, we'll be out of your way."

Four pairs of eyes riveted on Liam. Caitlyn put down her spoon, frowning.

"What are you blathering about, brother?" Connor echoed her unspoken sentiments as he stared at Liam with as much amazement as the rest of them.

"Now that you're to be married, you'll be wanting to be private with Caitlyn. We can easily find lodgings in the village, or—"

"Don't be daft, Liam," Connor interrupted. "We're a family. We stay together."

"You haven't thought. You'll be setting up your nursery—

"Nursery or not, this is your home."

"We're grown men now, Connor. You don't have to feel yourself responsible for us any longer."

"Are you saying that you don't want to stay on here after the wedding?" An ominous note had crept into Connor's voice. His eyes were fixed on Liam.

"I want you to stay, Liam, please," Caitlyn intervened hastily. His brothers were close to Connor's heart. He would be deeply hurt if anything came between them. She didn't want it to be herself. "You—all of you—are the only family I've ever known. I love you all. If you feel you can't live here with me as Connor's wife, why—why, then I won't marry him at all."

The disparate sets of eyes that had been fixed on Liam swung to Caitlyn. She met them with a determined lift of her chin.

"And then Connor will be mad as hell and take it out on us, and our lives won't be worth living," Cormac summed up with a dawning grin. "Take a damper, Liam.

Conn don't want us to leave, and Caitlyn don't either. If Conn can learn to dandle babies on his knee, then we can too. 'Twon't be so bad."

"Are you sure, Conn? We won't take it amiss if you want to be private with your bride, you know." Liam looked searchingly at his brother.

"I hope to have a fair amount of privacy with my bride with the three of you in residence.

Unless you're planning to take up sleeping in my chamber sometime in the near future?"