Judith E. French (11 page)

He pulled her hood up over her hair. “You’re getting wet,” he replied.

His deep voice sent ripples of excitement down her spine, and she found it hard to breathe. “I’m fine,” she protested.

He smiled. “I’d not want you sick for your first Christmas in Maryland.”

“I don’t take ill from a few flakes of snow.” She pushed her hood down again. “What I am sick of is this boat and those infernal women in my cabin. Even your wilderness will look good to me.”

He nodded. “And to me. Smell this air. It’s so clean.”

She sniffed. “I smell salt and wet canvas.”

“Close your eyes. What else do you smell?”

She did as he bade her. “Tar. No, there’s something else. Pine. I smell pine trees.”

“Yes! Pine and oak, beech and—”

She laughed. “You can’t tell the scent of beech trees from oak, not this far away.”

“Maybe not,” he agreed, “but they’re there. Chestnut and cedar, willows and poplar. More trees than there are fish in the sea. I’m home, Cailin. God help me, I never thought I’d feel like this. I can’t wait to set foot on land.” He swallowed and she saw the raw emotion flickering in his eyes. “Because of you, I’m home.”

And I’m not,
she thought. A wave of sadness swept over her, bringing bittersweet memories of the familiar scents and sounds of Glen Garth.

“We’ve reached Maryland, but we can’t set out for my land in midwinter,” he continued. “There’s nothing there. No shelter for us or our animals. We’ll start in the spring. For now, I’ll seek lodging for us with Lord and Lady Kentington. The old earl is a distant cousin to my father. I’m sure we’ll be welcome in their home. They were kind to me after my mother died. The captain tells me that they were both alive and in good health when last he anchored in Annapolis.”

“Would this great English lord be so generous if he knew that your father had disowned ye?” Cailin asked. Her brief stay at Sterling’s father’s estate still rankled, and she had no wish to go somewhere else where she was clearly not wanted. “He may not be pleased to learn that your
wife
is a Scots rebel.”

Sterling grinned. “I doubt that will bother Lord Kentington or his lady. I have been away for many years, but one thing I can tell you. Maryland is not England. Things are done differently here. Ties of blood, even distant ones, are taken seriously.”

“As they should be anywhere,” she agreed.

“Lord Kentington is nearly my father’s age,” he continued, “but he’s nothing like him in disposition or behavior. And his wife, Leah, the Lady Kentington, is half-Scottish. I’m certain you will like her. Everyone does.”

A red-haired sailor caught Cailin’s attention, and for a few seconds, she stared at him, completely losing track of what Sterling was saying. The seaman looked so much like Alasdair from the back that her heartbeat quickened. Then reality caught her up short. It could not be her big, brawny cousin, the man who had single-handedly thrown the three MacDonald brothers into the loch; he was long since dead.

“... Kentington ships some of the finest tobacco in the Colony. I know I can benefit from his advice.” Sterling touched her arm. “Are you listening to me?”

“Do as ye please then,” she murmured. “You will anyway.” Tears gathered in her eyes as the image of Alasdair’s freckled face formed in her mind’s eye. What would I give for an hour with him again? she thought. Alasdair had never failed to make her laugh or to raise her spirits.

Sterling took hold of her shoulders and gave her a long, searching look. “Have I treated you so badly, Cailin?”

“Nay,” she admitted.

“You’ve a shell as tough as a hickory,” he said. “But crack that shell, and the meat underneath is sweet and tender. I mean to be the one to find that tender center.”

“Unless ye smash your fingers in the trying,” she warned. “For I’ve not a mind to be swallowed up by a Sassenach, whole or piecemeal.”

But later, as she followed Sterling down the gangplank and onto solid ground, a strange thing happened. The sailor she had taken for Alasdair passed close to them, and he was laughing, a full-blown roar of mirth so like her cousin’s that she stopped and looked at the man in astonishment.

And then, inside her head, she heard Alasdair’s booming voice repeating the words he’d said to her at her mother’s funeral.
Dead’s dead, Cally. Love her, remember her, but dinna crawl into that grave wi’ her. For if ye dinna savor every bite of life that’s left to ye, ye mock your Maker. Heaven or hell waits fer each o’ us. Today, our duty lies in livin’.

Sterling took her arm and hustled her out of the way of a team of horses. “Cailin? Are you all right?”

She nodded, hurrying to keep up with him. Alasdair was right. When she’d stepped off that ship, she’d cut the cord to her past. There would come a time to cross the sea again and return to all who waited for her. But for now, she must live as best she could. If she didn’t, she’d face Alasdair’s scorn and tempt God’s wrath.

Hell might wait for her, she mused, but for today, she must savor every bite of life.

 

As Sterling had predicted, they were offered hospitality at Lord Kentington’s grand plantation on the Chesapeake. Neither the earl nor his lady wife was in residence, but their youngest son, the Honorable Forrest Wescott, and his bride, Lady Kathryn Wescott, received them like long-lost kin.

“You just missed Father,” Forrest said, clasping Sterling’s hand with genuine warmth. “He sailed for England not a fortnight ago. It is my brother’s last term at Oxford, and Father wanted to tend to some legal matters before he saw Brandon get his sheepskin.”

Forrest was tall and well-favored, with curling brown hair and brilliant blue eyes, a gentleman that Cailin supposed would be as comfortable in the saddle of a blooded horse as here in the hall of this richly furnished mansion.

Somehow, in less time than it would have taken to tell, Cailin found herself sitting before a fire in the great hall of the manor, her feet on a stool and a cup of Christmas punch in her hand. Her hostess, the young Kathryn Wescott, was a red-cheeked colonial lass whose obvious pleasure at having unexpected guests for the holiday could hardly be contained.

Cailin didn’t have to talk; Kathryn chattered on as brightly as a sprite, asking questions about the ocean voyage, ordering servants to prepare a chamber for Sterling and Cailin, patting her two spaniels, and laughing at her husband’s jokes.

“Did your mother go to England as well?” Sterling asked when he could get a word in.

Both Forrest and Kathryn—Kate, as she asked to be called—seemed intelligent, friendly, and greatly suited to each other. Often, one would begin a sentence and the other finish it, whereupon the first would seize the storyline and run with it. Cailin liked them at once, but decided she had never before met anyone who could talk as much as this pair of newlyweds.

“Mother? To England?” Forrest laughed and winked at his wife. “Not—”

“Likely.” Kate giggled. “She’s off to visit her family. We were married—”

“—In October,” Forrest said. “Then they both said we should be alone here. But—”

“—Christmas isn’t Christmas without guests,” Kate put in. “We have my sisters and their families, and Papa and Mama, and the neighbors coming tomorrow for—”

“—For dinner,” Forrest added. “But it isn’t the same as having houseguests. You must consider this your home until the weather breaks and you can leave for the frontier.”

“Cailin is welcome to stay until you get your house up, or whenever it suits,” Kate said breathlessly. “She must stay. The frontier is no place for—”

Cailin held up a hand. “We couldn’t impose on ye,” she said. “Not for so long. We just—”

“But it’s not an imposition,” Kate insisted. “At home, I had four sisters and two brothers, and the cousins. Forrest is such a dear, but this house is too big for the two of us. Servants don’t really count. I know how homesick my cousin Mary was when she came from Dublin last year. Annapolis seemed the end of the world. Now, she loves it, and you’ll soon feel the same, Mistress Gray.”

Sterling waved away a maid offering him another drink. “If your father was here—”

“Nonsense,” Forrest said. “You came to learn about tobacco, didn’t you? I don’t know as much as Father, but our foreman taught him most of what he knows. Whatever you need to learn, Jock can show you.”

“Lord Kentington left Forrest in charge of the plantation and all his affairs,” Kate said. “You are family, and there are four—no, five bedchambers standing empty. And we have all this staff to look after the two of us. My father-in-law would be greatly offended if we showed you less courtesy than he would himself.”

“Your parents were good to me when I was a boy,” Sterling explained. “I only thought—”

“I will consider it an insult of the gravest kind if you do not accept Kate’s invitation,” Forrest said. “Do stay, at least through Christmas and Twelfth Night. You can hardly take Mistress Cailin to a public inn. They are all mobbed. In a few weeks, if you’re bored with us, we can help you make other plans.”

Since it was snowing harder than it had been before, Sterling was in no position to argue. An hour later, after they had eaten and shared another glass of wine with Forrest and Kate, a footman showed Sterling and Cailin upstairs to a spacious bedchamber and adjoining parlor.

“Shall I send one of the girls up to help the lady, sir?” the boy asked.

Sterling glanced at Cailin.

“No.” She shook her head. All evening he’d been devouring her with his eyes. His message was very clear. His patience had come to an end. “I ... can manage for myself tonight.”

“Very good, m’lady.” He left the room, pulling the door closed after him.

Sterling sat down on the bed. “It feels somewhat softer than my bunk aboard the
Galway Maid.
” He patted the satin coverlet. “Join me,” he said. “Unless you plan to sleep in a chair.”

Goose bumps rose on her arms. She could not resist a smile as she went to the hearth and held out her hands to the crackling fire. It was time and past time for this marriage to be consummated. She wondered when she’d made the decision, and decided it didn’t matter. She wanted him as much as he wanted her.

She turned to look around the elegant chamber. The room was large, with windows overlooking the bay; at least the view would be of the water in daylight. Tonight, snow piled on the sills and sleet tapped against the glass panes.

She sighed and smiled at him. “Your cousins live well for colonials,” she said, stalling for time. She didn’t know what sleeping with Sterling would do to her plans for returning home. She was tired of fighting him and her own desires. Despite the chasm between them, Sterling was a very, very attractive man.

And she had slept alone for a long time.

“Do you intend to demand your rights as a husband?” she asked him teasingly.

“Cailin.”

He was looking at her with that gaze that seemed to penetrate her deepest thoughts. She could not stay still. She left the fire and went to a window. She could see nothing but swirling snow and darkness.

“This game is played out between us,” he said.

“Aye,” she agreed. “It is.” Her skin seemed too tight for her body. Her breasts tingled; her palms felt as though they were burning up.

“And now ...”

“Now what?” Excitement made her giddy. She was stone sober, but the floor seemed to sway beneath her feet.

“Now it’s time to clear the board and set up the pieces for a new game.” He crossed the room and stood very close to her.

“What are the rules?” She swallowed. Her heart was racing; each breath was an effort.

“We make them up as we go along,” he said. He touched her cheek, and she shivered.

“There must be rules,” she whispered breathlessly. He brushed his forefinger along her lower lip. “A new game,” he repeated.

The husky tremor in his voice made her weak.

His face softened in the firelight. “We are the first to play.” Lowering his head, he brought his lips to within inches of her own and slid his fingers into her hair. “Cailin,” he murmured.

With a low cry, she flung her arms around his neck and kissed him full on the mouth.

H
er crumbling resistance melted away in the incandescent flame of that fevered kiss. Warmth suffused Sterling’s body as he lifted the weight of her red-gold hair off her nape, and his lips trailed hot kisses down her neck and throat.

“Cailin,” he whispered hoarsely. “I want to see you ... all of you. Let me undress you.” For months, he’d dreamed of this moment, imagined her rosy and bare in the firelight. Now that his dream was about to be fulfilled, he wanted this consummation to be perfect. “Cailin?”

She made a muffled sound that might have been a protest, but she didn’t stop him as he began to undo the tiny buttons at the back of her neck.

“Take down your hair,” he said. He wanted her so badly that he was already in agony. The scent of her ... the feel of her warm, soft curves was enough to bring him to a fever pitch. Raw instinct bade him throw her down on the floor and drive his cock into her sweet, wet cleft, but he forced himself to maintain control.

If he rushed her, he’d lose her willingness. And he wanted to please her nearly as much as he wanted to satisfy his own powerful urge.

She looked up into his face.

“Please. You have such beautiful hair.” He kissed her bare back and undid another button. “Take out the pins. Let your hair fall, Cailin.”

She shivered.

He brushed her neck with the tip of his tongue, and she inhaled sharply. “Oh.”

She smelled of violets. He sucked in a deep, shuddering breath. “I want to see you in nothing but that glorious hair.”

Trembling, she reached up to pull an ivory hairpin loose. And when her necklace tangled in her curls, she jerked it impatiently. The worn silver chain snapped in two, and the pendant she always wore slid down to rest against the hollow between her breasts.

He touched the amulet. To his surprise, the metal felt hot enough to scorch his fingers. “Your necklace broke,” he murmured.

She yanked the pendant away and threw it across the room. “I don’t want it anymore,” she said. “Little luck it’s brought me. It’s nought but superstitious nonsense.”

He turned her in his arms, and she lifted her face to meet his kiss. He knew he should be tender with her, but when his mouth touched hers, flames leaped between them. He ground his lips against hers fiercely, thrusting his tongue deep inside her willing mouth and closing his mind to everything but the physical pleasure of taste and texture, and the woman scent of her.

He crushed her so tightly that he could feel the heat of her body through the layers of her clothing. He ran a hand down her back and clasped her closer, molding her to him as his burgeoning shaft throbbed with aching.

She clutched his shoulders and whispered his name. He kissed her again and again. Her breath came in ragged gasps.

He fumbled with the last button. There was a little pop as the thread parted. The button hit the wide plank floor and rolled away. Cailin didn’t seem to notice. She was thrusting into his mouth with her tongue and tangling her fingers in his hair.

He slipped her gown off one shoulder and then the other. She gave a small cry, deep in her throat. He tore at her petticoats and clasped one round buttock as the heavy material pooled around her ankles.

“Sterling ...” she whispered. The sound of his name on her lips nearly undid him.

In an effort to slow the pace, he caught her hand in his, turning it over so that he could kiss the pulse at her wrist. “I love you, Cailin. God knows why. You’ve given me little cause ... but I do.”

Half-laughing, half-crying, she held out her arms to him, and he drew her into another embrace. He kissed her mouth again, and then turned his attention to the soft hollow between her breasts. He flicked his tongue against her bare skin, and she moaned with pleasure.

She reached up and took his face between her hands, running her fingers over his chin, his nose, and the high, sharp lines of his brows. And all the while, he stared into her eyes and savored the sweet frissons of sensation that settled in the pit of his stomach.

God knew that gentling Cailin had taken time, and more endurance than he’d ever believed he’d possessed. But this was worth every lonely night that he’d lain awake wanting her. She was his. His. And no other man would ever touch her again.

He tugged at the silken cords that held her stays and pulled the stiff garment free. Now all that lay between them was her linen shift.

Sterling dropped to his knees and buried his face in her full breasts. His hands cupped and squeezed them: his fingertips teased her nipples to hard nubs. “Ah, woman,” he murmured. There was an innocence about her that drove him wild. And yet, at the same time, he sensed a depth of passion he’d never found in another woman’s arms.

She closed her eyes and whimpered with longing. “You have beautiful breasts,” he whispered. “Beautiful nipples.” He kissed first one, then the other, drawing each taut bud between his lips and sucking until she writhed with desire.

The throbbing of his swollen phallus grew ever stronger. He gritted his teeth and willed his body to obey. Never had he experienced such exquisite torture. Never had he been so determined to give his partner a gift of complete fulfillment.

Firelight flickered, casting a golden glow over her lightly sheened skin. Her breasts were high and thrusting, the perfect nipples pink and swollen. He cupped one soft globe in the palm of his hand and lifted it to his mouth. She shuddered and arched against him. Her hands fluttered like birds, touching his face and hair and brushing against his shoulders.

Dropping to his knees, he caressed her back and stroked her small, round buttocks. He’d dreamed of this, but his dream hadn’t matched the woman in his arms. He groaned as waves of white-hot desire flooded his veins. He wanted to fill her with his seed ... to mark her as his own forever.

Cailin gave a little cry, and her fingers tangled in his hair. Whispering love words, he continued to tease her breasts with his tongue until she covered his hands with her own, urging him on.

“Harder, harder,” she moaned.

He lowered his head, nipping her gently with playful love bites across her belly and the curve of her hip. She gasped as his lips grazed the soft red curls above her cleft.

“Please,” she murmured. “I ... can’t.”

“Can’t what?” He touched her love-swollen folds and nestled his face against her moist heat.

“Can’t stand up ... if ye ...”

He slipped a finger inside her. She was wet and ready for him. “Sweet Cailin,” he said, delving deeper.

Shamelessly, she opened to his exploring fingers.

“Oh,” she gasped. “How can I ... If ye ... Oh!” Bright sensations rippled through her, and she felt suddenly faint.

“Does that feel good?” he asked her. “I’ve something for you that will feel better than that.”

She felt her cheeks grow hot with shame, but she did not stop him. Could not. She dug her nails into his shoulders as shudders of hunger shook her body. She was out of control. Never ... never before had she felt like this.

“I want to taste your sweetness,” he said.

In desperation, she glanced toward the bed. His lips brushed her cleft, and she gasped. “No,” she cried suddenly. It felt good—it felt wonderful, but ...

His hot tongue caressed her most secret spot. “Devil take you,” she cried. “I’ll reach a climax before ye ever get me to the bed.” Her fingers clutched at his bulging biceps.

He threw back his head and let out a roar of laughter. Then, standing, he gathered her in his powerful arms. “I was afraid you meant to tell me no again,” he said. “I am not a man to force a woman, but if you’d refused me this night, I swear I could not—”

“Nay,” she answered, laughing with him. “I’ll not tell ye no. But if ye don’t pleasure me soon, I may kill ye.”

“Then we must remedy that,” he answered, carrying her to the bed.

She held tightly to his neck as he dropped her against the heaped pillows and covered her face with teasing kisses.

When he pulled away, she felt a sense of loss and held out her hands to stop him. “Don’t leave me,” she begged. “Not now!” God in heaven! She was a strumpet. No whore had ever demanded a man’s lust so brazenly.

“Shhh, shhh,” he whispered. “I’ll not go far.” His back was to the fireplace, his craggy face in shadows as he deliberately began to undress.

Boldly, she watched his every movement. And when he stepped out of his breeches, she drew in a deep, ragged breath, but still did not take her eyes off him.

“Do I pass muster?” he asked.

“Aye,” she replied after long seconds. He was more than well-endowed, a great broth of a man, long and thick, in perfect proportion. And he was definitely aroused. “Come to bed, husband,” she whispered hoarsely. “I want to see if it works as good as it looks.”

She wanted to touch and taste him ... to run her fingertips over his naked thighs ... to feel the iron sinew beneath his bronzed skin. She wanted to trace the swell of his shoulders and caress the ridge of his collarbone. And she wanted to stroke his taut belly and savor the nest of dark hair below. She wanted him to fill her with his erect member.

He must have read the desire in her eyes. “You are a caution, woman,” he said.

But she knew that he was pleased. She laughed softly as a new understanding passed between them, but her passion had not dwindled. His next touch proved that.

I’m lost, she thought as he pressed his hard palm against her most sensitive place. Desire flared and set her blood aflame.

“Where was I?” he asked. He slid his hand provocatively up her leg beneath her shift, and she could not hold back a whimper of delight.

“Sterling ...”

“I like the way you say my name.” He lowered his head and kissed the inner curve of her thigh. “Nice,” he whispered as he moved his fingers between her damp folds.

“Oh ...” She buried her face in his thick, clean hair and stroked his bare shoulders. His black hair was so soft and silky ... not coarse ... His skin was as smooth as raw silk. And the scent was his alone.

Sterling thrust two fingers deep inside her.

Cailin tossed her head from side to side and tried to control the surge of emotion that coursed through her. “Ye do this like you’ve had experience,” she said breathlessly.

“Do I?” Without warning, he threw himself over her, seizing her wrists and pinning her to the mattress. For the space of a heartbeat, she felt unreasonable fear, but then he rolled over onto his back, pulling her atop him, and the terror receded.

This is Sterling, she told herself urgently. He won’t hurt me. No matter what I do or say, I’m safe with him.

“It’s your game, Cailin,” he said lazily. “Your move.”

If she said no now, if she pulled away, he’d not force her. She knew it in her heart, and the knowledge gave her courage.

“Must I make all the moves?” she dared. Leaning over him, she kissed him with slow, exquisite pleasure.

He groaned with arousal and clasped her around the hips, urging her to move against him. “Don’t stop,” he said. “Touch me.”

Cailin laughed. Sitting astride a man was a new sensation, and she liked it. The sweet aching between her thighs was driving her wild, and knowing that he wanted her so badly made her excitement all the stronger. She wanted him to kiss her breasts again ... but this time without the shift between them. Slowly, she wiggled out of the garment and tossed it aside.

He touched her bare breast.

“That feels good,” she said, leaning down so that he could reach her with his mouth. His swollen shaft throbbed hot against her leg. She arched her back. “Kiss me,” she begged him. “Kiss my breasts.”

He tongued her nipples until she writhed and cried out with desire, then drew a hard, erect bud between his lips. Bright colors danced behind her eyelids, and she felt herself being swept up into a swirling vortex.

“Now! Now!” he cried, lifting her hips with his powerful hands.

She took him deep inside, and he filled her with a love and satisfaction that she had never known existed. Slowly, he withdrew and plunged into her with wild, sweet abandon. She met his tumescent power thrust for thrust as her hands clasped and caressed his sweat-sheened body. Together, they rose and fell in a primeval hymn of life, giving and seeking fulfillment, locked flesh to flesh and soul to soul in an eternity of rapture.

And when the earth fell away beneath them, she clung to him, so that the wind carried them through the abyss and dropped them, as lightly as thistledown, back into reality.

“Cailin, sweet Cailin,” he groaned. “God in heaven, woman ... you are .. you are ...” His words trailed away, lost in the damp kisses he bestowed on her face and throat.

She laughed and curled beside him, laying her head on his chest and listening to the slow, steady beat of his heart. “You’ll do, Sassenach, you’ll do,” she teased.

“I love you,” he said hoarsely. “More than my own soul ... I love you.”

She sighed and closed her eyes. She did not want to think about tomorrow. She only wanted to savor the moment ... the utter peace and joy of being held like this.

“I’ve never met a woman like you.” Carefully, he wound a strand of her hair around his finger. “Our married life begins here,” he said quietly. “Here, this night.”

“Shhh,” she answered.
Dinna ask me to promise what I cannot give. Tonight is ours ... Tomorrow ... Who knows what tomorrow will bring?

“I’ve spent a lifetime running from you,” he admitted. “But now that I have you, I-”

“Shhh,” she said, putting her fingers over his lips. “Don’t talk, Sterling. Just hold me. Just hold me like this forever.”

And he did hold her through the long, cold night, until the first rays of purple dawn spilled across the gray waters of the Chesapeake and the first call of a wild goose echoed across the winter fields.