Gregory, Lisa (20 page)

"Look
at me," he said quietly.

She
raised her head and stared defiantly into his face. His eyes were bright and
his face flushed. He had removed his coat and partially unbuttoned his shirt against
the warmth of the liquor, revealing a V-shaped patch of his chest, hard and
brown and covered with crisp, curling brown hair. Her stomach dropped
peculiarly, and she primly averted her gaze from the sight of his bare chest.

"I
want you," he said baldly. "And I will have you. There's little point
in your struggling; I can overpower you. And I think you'll find it much easier
and more pleasant if you don't fight."

"I
am sure
you
would much prefer it," Katherine replied scornfully,
the color rushing into her cheeks. "But I am not the sort to acquiesce in
my own shame and dishonor. I promise you I shall fight you to the utmost."

"Somehow
I suspected that would be your answer," he said wryly. "You're a
damned difficult woman."

"Because
I have the temerity to oppose your base plans for me?" she sniffed.

He
reached out to touch her face and she jerked away. He rose and came toward her;
she dropped her book on the table and backed away from him. Suddenly she darted
toward the door, but Hampton was too quick for her, and he grabbed her wrist
and pulled her back against his chest. His arms imprisoned her like bands of
steel; she struggled wildly, but to no avail. Holding her with one hand, he
tore out the pins from her hair with the other, so that her hair tumbled down
wildly over her shoulders. Shoving his hand into the luxuriant mass of her
hair, he held her head immobile. Fiercely his mouth descended onto hers,
forcing her lips apart. His tongue took possession of her mouth and his lips
crushed hers against her teeth.

Katherine
brought her foot down hard on his instep, and he gasped in pain, loosening his
hold on her. She tore away and darted toward the door, but he was on her before
she reached it. With one hand he tore down the front of her dress, ripping the
bodice apart. She gasped and tried to cover herself, but he pulled her hands
firmly away and to her sides.

"Lovely,"
he murmured, staring hungrily at the swell of her creamy breasts above her
chemise. Then he bent to kiss the top of each ripe breast. Slowly his lips
roamed over her neck and chest, his breath softly tickling her skin. Backing
her against the door, he kissed her again, a burning, consuming kiss, grinding
his body into hers. His hands released her arms to slide up and cup her breasts.
She kicked and screamed and struck out at him, but it had no effect.

Suddenly
Katherine simply went limp; her shift in weight caught him off balance and she
managed to slide away from him. He grabbed for her and the rest of her dress
came away in his hand. She dived for the bed, reached into her muff, and turned
to face him, a tiny silver gun in her hand. He stopped in mid-step, stunned.

"Don't
come one step closer. I promise you I won't hesitate to shoot, and at this
range, I can hardly miss."

"Exactly
what do you think you will accomplish?" he said, keeping an eye on the
gun. Guns in the hands of women made him very nervous; in some ways a novice
was more dangerous than an expert. "Are we to remain like this all night?
Who do you think will relax his guard first, me or you? You can't watch me
every second; you will get tired, sleepy; you'll blink. And I shall take it
away from you. Or suppose you manage to kill me. What then? You would be fair
game for all the men. Do you enjoy the prospect of being passed around from man
to man, of being raped over and over, until you scream for death?"

Suddenly
he dived at her; a bullet whistled past his ear. His shoulder slammed into her
at the waist, sending them both to the floor and knocking the breath out of
her. He grabbed her wrist with both hands and slammed it against the floor,
sending the pistol flying from her grasp. Unceremoniously he hauled her to her
feet and shook her until she felt her head would separate from her spine.

"Never,"
he hissed fiercely, "never try anything like that again."

He
flung her away and she fell onto the bed, gasping for air. Savagely he ripped
away her multitude of petticoats and her hoop. They were damn nuisances at any
time, he thought, but with her squirming and struggling, they were almost
impossible. The last straw was her stays; corsets were as effective as armor.
Exasperated, he pulled his knife. At the sight of it, she paled and scrambled
across the bed away from him and flattened herself against the wall.

He
grinned wickedly and said, "Ah, a little more compliant now, aren't
you?"

With
one swift stroke, he sliced her laces neatly. Her eyes narrowed. What a brute
he was to scare her so, knowing he only meant to cut her laces. Furiously she
sprang at him, scratching, biting, and kicking; it was all he could do to
subdue her. It was like trying to hold a twisting wildcat in his arms. Finally
he managed to pull her back against him and wrap his arms around her, pinning
her arms to her sides and holding her still. She was able to do no more than
kick backward at him and turn in his grasp. He held her thus until finally she
exhausted herself with struggling and stopped, limp and trembling like a horse
after a hard race.

Quietly
he nuzzled her hair and neck, while one hand roamed freely over her body,
caressing her breasts and traveling down her stomach and abdomen to come to
rest at the joining of her legs. She gasped and flinched at the intimacy of his
touch.

"Hush,
little one," he murmured. "Soon you'll come to know the feel of my
hand."

She
felt tired, numbed, drained of all emotion, even fear or anger. She felt only a
deep, still hatred for him like a cold lump in her stomach. Her eyes closed and
she steeled herself to endure her humiliation, choking back her tears—she
refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing her reduced to tears. His arms
relaxed around her, then released her altogether. Quickly his obviously
experienced hands unfastened and removed her thin chemise, pantalets, and
stockings, until she stood before him completely naked. Desperately she tried
to cover herself, but he gently pulled her hands away.

"No,
I want to look at you," he said, his voice husky with desire.

Good
God, what a magnificent creature she was! Her skin was velvet smooth, creamy;
her breasts ripe and firm, deliciously rosy-peaked. Her slender waist flowed
into a flat, satiny abdomen, down to the soft triangular tuft of hair, and into
her long, shapely legs. And what a delightfully rounded, squeezable little
derriere!

He
could feel desire rising in him, pounding along his veins. Hastily he began to
disrobe. Katherine crept into bed and pulled the covers up to her shoulders to
hide her nakedness. She huddled up against the far wall and buried her face in
her arms. Soon she felt the bed sink and then felt Hampton's warm presence
beside her.

"Here,
little one, come here." His voice was soft. Gently he pulled her to him
and turned her on her back. He began to kiss her, his lips traveling over her
face and neck and returning to her mouth, until she was breathless. All the
while his hand cupped and caressed her soft breasts, his fingers circling her
pink nipples until they hardened. Then his hand drifted down over her stomach
and in between her legs. She stiffened, and he gave an odd little laugh.

"No,
darling, do not close against me." Teasingly his fingers opened her legs,
stroking her soft inner thighs, then crept up, finding and entering her, while
his mouth lazily kissed her breasts and stomach, his tongue making little
circles on her skin. A treacherous warmth spread through Katherine as his lips
and hands explored her, and gradually she relaxed under his expert caresses.
Hampton rolled over on top of her, his weight pressing into her. Suddenly he
entered her, and she felt a searing pain. She cried out and tried to scramble
away from him, but he held her firm. He murmured unintelligibly against her
cheek and then took her mouth in a fierce kiss as he began to move within her.
The pain was intense, and she stiffened against it, struggling ineffectually.
At last he jerked spasmodically, then collapsed on her. Softly he kissed her
face and caressed her gently. Katherine bit her lip, trying to hold back her
tears, but when he rolled away from her, she could no longer restrain herself
and burst into loud sobs.

"There
now, hush, little one," he whispered, taking her into his arms. He held
her tightly against him and smoothed her hair and stroked her back
comfortingly, murmuring quiet endearments into her ear. Illogically she clung
to him and cried her heart out against his chest.

Matthew
awakened the next morning with his arms still around Katherine. Looking down at
her tousled head, he smiled. Last night she had fought him to the limit—cursed
him, struggled against him, even tried to bring his life to a premature
close—and now she lay snuggled against him, soft and innocent as a kitten.
Lightly he touched her hair, then drew back their covers to look at her.
Lovelier, if anything, in the daylight. He felt desire stirring in him and
reluctantly turned away. He needed to be up and about his work.

Katherine
woke at the sudden absence of his body heat. For a moment she could not
remember where she was, but her scattered wits came back together in a rush
that almost made her cry out. Oh, yes, she remembered all too well. She was in
the bed of a Rebel seacaptain, shamed, humiliated, and ruined. I wish I were
dead, she thought miserably. Was wedded bliss as gruesome as that? Surely it
wasn't always so painful.

And
yet she remembered how soft and gentle he had been when she cried, how he had
whispered to her and comforted her. Yes—after he had what he wanted! She blazed
with anger, remembering his exploring lips and hands. Never had she imagined
that anyone would do such things to her. How low his opinion of her must be!

Surreptitiously
she glanced across the room at him. Immediately she closed her eyes at the
sight of his nudity, but they soon crept open again in curiosity. She had never
seen a man undressed before; even last night, it had been dark and he too close
and she too scared. He was lean and well-muscled, emanating lithe power. And
well she knew that power, she thought wryly.

She
had never realized before that there was a sort of animal beauty to a man's
body. Covered with clothes, they did not reveal that sleek, supple grace
reminiscent of a wild cat. She remembered the hardness of his body against
hers, and then she blushed, remembering that extra hardness.

Feeling
her gaze, he looked over at her and grinned, totally without embarrassment.
Katherine felt embarrassment enough for both, however, at being caught looking
at him, and she turned her face away.

"No,"
he laughed, "go ahead and look. I don't mind, and it will advance your
education."

"Thank
you," she replied tartly, "but I had just as soon receive no further
education at your hands!"

He
smiled. This girl was certainly no milk-and-water miss. She had the tongue of a
termagant; he felt sure that she had frightened away many an eager lad. But he
found her tartness refreshing and rather piquant, coupled as it was with a
succulent body. He had felt guilty this morning that his anger and desire had
led him to rape a gently reared virgin. Had she been tearful and passive now,
his guilt would have increased, but his ardor would soon have been quenched.
But that bravado of hers piqued his interest and made him feel, somehow, that
she deserved better than what she had gotten.

"Katherine,"
he spoke her name, liking the sound of it in his mouth.

She
raised her eyebrows haughtily. "I was not aware that I had given you permission
to use my Christian name."

Matthew
burst into laughter. "You mean we haven't been formally introduced?"
How enchanting she looked, all prim and Boston-proper in her tone, with her
hair tumbled about her shoulders, clutching a bedsheet to her bare breasts. He
felt desire rising in him, and he started toward her.

Katherine
immediately regretted the quickness of her tongue. She recognized that look in
his eyes. In terror she scrambled to the far side of the bed. He stopped,
pulled up short by the real fear in her eyes as she cringed against the wall.
He felt a pang of remorse and pity.