Just One Touch (15 page)

“Caroline.”

She winced. Rogan’s voice, stern and uncomfortably patient. As if he were her parent or her priest. Well, he wasn’t. Enough of that. A woman had to take a stand if she didn’t want to be treated as a helpless twit for the rest of her life.

She turned to face him, unnerved despite her resolve by his austere visage. Nonetheless, she managed a look of polite inquiry. “Yes, Rogan?”

He swept an arm toward the parlor. “A word, if you please.”

Her stomach knotted at that quiet, controlled tone. She’d rather he raged; at least then she knew what he was truly thinking. Feeling much like a chastised schoolgirl, she slipped past him into the parlor.

He closed the door behind them, and the quiet
snick
of the latch echoed like the clang of a cell door.

“Sit down.” He indicated the settee, and she sat, folding her hands in her lap out of sheer habit.

Rogan sat down in the chair across from her. He looked at her for a moment with a troubled frown on his face. Then he loosely linked his fingers together and said, “What the devil did you think you were doing this morning?”

The words, though soft, struck with the force of multiple pistol shots.

“I was breaking up your fight with your brother,” she answered calmly. “And you will note that my method was quite successful.”

His lips thinned. “This is no laughing matter, Caroline. When I am…like that, you need to stay away from me.”

“I’m not laughing, husband.” His patronizing tone grated. She stiffened her spine, preparing for battle. “I do not take violence on the part of males lightly, as you will recall. And I will not let you ruin your business when you are not in your right mind.”

“That’s not your responsibility,” he said. “I’m supposed to protect you, not the other way around.”

“Well that’s just nonsense!” Her own temper flared. “I’m sick to death of the men around me treating me like I’m a brainless ninny who has no sense of self-preservation! Do I need to remind you of what I’ve survived?”

“I know what you’ve been through.” He leaned closer, his eyes narrowing. “Do I have to remind you what that did to you?”

She sucked in a sharp breath. “I’m aware of my problems, Rogan. But hiding from them isn’t going to help me solve them.”

“This isn’t a negotiation,” Rogan said, frustration showing for the first time on his handsome face. “When you see me lose control, you get away. No discussion.”

“There
will
be discussion!” She got to her feet and propped her hands on her hips. “You talk about yourself like you’re some kind of wild animal who will devour me if I get too close. And that’s just ridiculous, Rogan. You’re my husband, not some lunatic.”

“Damn it, Caroline, you must listen to me!” He jerked to his feet and took her by the shoulders. “When I’m like that, I have no control. I fear I will inadvertently hurt you. Please, do this for me.”

She raised a hand to his cheek. “You will never hurt me, Rogan.”

As if in pain, he closed his eyes and turned away from her touch. “Please, Caroline. Promise me.”

“What demons haunt you?” she whispered. He opened his eyes, and she saw a familiar torment in that gray gaze. A torment she had seen too many times in her own mirror. “Tell me, Rogan. Let me help.”

“This is madness.” He pushed away from her and strode to the other side of the room to lean an elbow on the mantel, his face hidden from her. “Your father and his machinations be damned, I should never have married you.”

Her stomach seemed to drop to her knees. Her mouth went dry. “What…what did you say?”

“I said I shouldn’t have married you, blast it!” He spun to face her, his handsome visage twisted with suffering. “I am a penniless second son prone to uncontrollable raving, and you are an heiress haunted by the ghosts of your ravagers.
We should have known this wouldn’t work. I’m no good for you.”

She took a deep, calming breath. “I think you have been very good for me.”

He gave a harsh laugh. “You’re in danger every time I lose my temper. And you won’t heed me when I tell you to run and hide. Dear God, Caroline,” he whispered hoarsely. “I live every day in fear that I will harm you.”

“What makes you think that?” Slowly she began to inch toward him.

He closed his eyes. “I’ve done it before.”

She stopped. “Done what?”

“Isabel. I killed her.” He clenched the hand resting on the mantel into a fist, pounded it against the marble. “I was furious at her for betraying me. And I killed her.”

“Rogan.” She waited until he met her gaze. “Who was Isabel?”

“A woman I knew during the war. I thought I loved her.”

“What happened?”

“She was using me, pretending to love me to get information for the enemy. When I found out, I confronted her. She laughed,” he added softly.

“Then what happened?”

“We argued.” Anguish roughened his voice. “I lost all control. I couldn’t see clearly, couldn’t think clearly. There was yelling, and she shoved me. I pushed her back. She tripped and hit her head on the hearth and died.”

“Oh, Rogan.” She came over and rested her
hand on his arm. “It was an accident. You mustn’t blame yourself.”

He shrugged her off. “Don’t you see? No one is safe from me, not even the people I love.” His hard expression wavered as tenderness touched his gaze. “I couldn’t bear it if I hurt you.”

“I trust you,” she whispered.

He stroked his knuckles down her cheek. “You shouldn’t.”

“Rogan, has it ever occurred to you that we can help each other? That maybe two damaged people like us might actually belong together?”

“Damaged.” He nodded. “That’s how I feel. Defective. Wrong somehow.”

“No more than I do.” She took a step toward him, and this time he didn’t pull away. She laid her hand on his chest. “Before I met you, I would never have had the courage to do this small thing. You’re helping me, Rogan, even if you don’t realize it.”

“Caroline.” He closed his hand over hers, holding it fast over his pounding heart. “You astonish me.”

She colored. “Nonsense.” She dropped her hand, her own heart skipping around in her chest. Standing so close together, she could smell the citrusy scent of his body, practically feel the warmth coming off him. To her shock, she could barely resist turning back and smoothing both hands along that broad chest with wanton abandon.

“You have such faith.”

“It’s all I have.” She raised her eyes to his. “Without it, I would be lost.”

“I was lost before you.”

The gentleness in his voice melted her insides like butter in a skillet. She could only stare at him mutely, undone by the growing desire in his eyes. He was so handsome, and he was
hers
, and she could barely stand the fact that terrors within her kept her from being a true wife to him. And she wanted to. All she had to do was reach out and touch him…

He seemed to sense her response to him. His mouth curled in a lopsided grin that made her knees weak. “What are you thinking, love?”

Unable to answer in simple English, she stepped forward, stood on tiptoe, and kissed him, wrapping her arms around his neck.

For an instant he didn’t move, and her heart sank. Then his arms clamped around her, and he crushed her to his body, taking over the kiss with an ardor even she couldn’t deny.

Hot desire flooded her in a rush. Every detail swamped her senses: his scent, the heat of his body pressed chest-to-thigh with hers, the obvious hunger of his mouth. She waited for the fear, expected it even. But it didn’t come.

All she felt was glorious need as it crashed inside her like an ocean wave.

“Caroline.” He whispered her name between kisses, dipping his head to nibble at her neck. “Caroline, are you sure?”

“Yes.” She tangled her fingers in his hair as he brushed his lips over a sensitive spot beneath her ear.

He swept his hands down to her hips and held them as he once more captured her mouth with his. His tongue touched hers, and she opened gladly, eagerly kissing him the way he’d taught her.

Long moments later, he broke the kiss. “I was supposed to be chastising my wife,” he murmured with amusement.

“I admire your methods.” She studied his face, his mouth glistening from their kisses, his hair in disarray from her hands. His gray eyes looked almost black and glittered with pure male hunger. A twinge of alarm rose in her mind, but she squelched it. Rogan was her husband. He wouldn’t hurt her. “Kiss me again, Rogan.”

He complied most readily, scooping her into his arms even as his mouth descended. Her mind blurred and her heart raced as she let herself be swept away by his embrace.

His strong arms made her feel protected, not trapped.

“You are so beautiful,” he murmured, nuzzling her hair. He pressed a kiss to her temple, to her cheek, then settled on her mouth again. She returned the long, slow kiss, her body aching for something she couldn’t name. She stood on tiptoe and curled her arms around his neck. He pulled her tightly against his body.

The warning bell rang again, and once more she pushed it aside. She wanted to be in Rogan’s arms, wanted to feel like a woman.
His
woman.

He clamped one arm around her waist and cupped the other hand around the back of her head, holding her still while he plundered her mouth. His breath came in harsh pants as he came up for air, then descended right back into passion.

He stumbled forward, and her back hit the wall near the mantel. She gave a squeak of alarm and clamped her fingers in his shirt as he settled heavily against her. Cupping her bottom in both hands, he tilted her hips into his, pressing his hard erection into the softness of her belly.

She was trapped. Pinned to the wall.

He rubbed against her slowly. His hardness fit snugly into the vee of her thighs, rigid and insistent. Her heart skipped in her chest. Alarm shot through her like an icy sword. He was too close. It was too much. Always before she’d been able to escape his embrace. Had the room to step away if need be. But this time…

She was trapped. Helpless. Crushed against the wall. No!
No!

“No!” she rasped, ripping her mouth from his. “No, please, no!” Her caressing hands turned to claws as she raked at his shoulders.

“Caroline!” She struggled in his arms, terror seizing her in its relentless grip. He tried to pull her closer, but she shoved at him, desperate to be free.

“Let me go!” she cried. “Please let me go!”

He set her down and took a step backward, keeping his hands lightly on her shoulders. “Caroline, you’re free. It’s all right. You’re free.”

She sagged back against the wall, folding her arms around her middle and curling into a defensive posture. Her sobs shook her entire body.

She would never be free.

R
ogan stood by helplessly, uncertain what to do. The panic had come on her so suddenly. He wanted to comfort her, but he didn’t want to make the situation worse.

“Caroline,” he said quietly, “it’s Rogan. You’re at home, Caroline. Do you hear me?”

She sniffled and took a deep, shuddering breath that tore him up inside.

“It’s me, Caroline.” He gently cupped her cheek. She tried to turn away. “No, look at me. Look at me, love.”

She opened her eyes and looked at him, her big dark eyes rife with torment. Tears clung to her spiky lashes as she continued to hug herself.

She nearly broke his heart.

“That’s it.” Gently he stroked her hair. “It’s
Rogan, love. You’re not in that terrible place anymore. It’s just me, just your husband.”

Awareness slowly brought the sanity back into her eyes. “Oh, God,” she choked. “Will I never be free of this?”

“Shhh. Calm yourself.” He continued to stroke her hair, kept his touch gentle. “It’s all right, love. I went too fast.”

“No.” She sniffled and slowly straightened from where she huddled against the wall. “It was…I couldn’t escape…I was pinned to the wall. Always before I could escape.” A strangled sob escaped her throat, and her knees buckled. She staggered backward.

Rogan swept forward and gathered her into his arms, pulling her clear of the wall.

“No,” she whispered, weakly shoving at his shoulders. “No more.”

“I’m just holding you, love, so you don’t fall down.” Rogan kept his touch light, one arm around her waist to support her. He caressed her face with gentle fingers. “Come back to me now, Caroline. Leave those monsters behind.”

“I thought I had.” Misery made her lips tremble as she looked up at him. “I thought I could. I’m sorry, Rogan.”

“None of that.” He tried to smile. “What’s important is that you’re safe. You need to understand that. Believe it.”

She swiped at her teary eyes with the back of her hand. “I haven’t felt safe in years.”

“You’re safe with me. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

“I want to believe that.” She closed her eyes, rested her forehead against his chest. “I liked kissing you,” she whispered into his shirt. “It felt nice. And then…monsters.”

“No monsters here. Just me.” He cradled her against him, dropping a kiss on top of her head.

“They’re always waiting for me,” she sighed.

“We’ll beat them. Look at us. I’m holding you, and you’re all right.”

“Mmm.” She cuddled closer to him. “You’re right. Just don’t hold me too tightly. And no more walls.”

“I won’t. We’ll stay just like this.” He kept his embrace loose, and she stayed in his arms. “I like to hold you, love.”

“I like it, too.” She nuzzled her nose into his chest, then glanced up at him. “It’s fading away.”

“Good.” He smoothed his hands up and down her back, his hands trembling with the effort to keep his touch nonthreatening. He pressed another butterfly-soft kiss to her temple. “We’ll take all the time you need.”

“I hate this.” She laid her cheek against his chest. “I wanted to be a wife to you, Rogan. It felt normal to kiss you, to want to touch you. I didn’t expect this to happen.”

“Thought you were cured, hmm?”

She sighed. “Yes. And look at what happened.”

“Yes, look at what happened. You kissed me—
most passionately, I might I add. I held you, and you weren’t frightened.”

“No, I wasn’t,” she realized, her voice full of wonder.

“A few weeks ago just one kiss would have had you fleeing in terror,” he pointed out. “Look how far you’ve come already.”

“You’re right.” She pulled back so she could look into his face. “I can kiss you, and it doesn’t bring back the bad memories.”

“Progress. You also let me hold you, and there was no panic.”

“True.”

“So when did the fear take over?”

“When you—” She halted, her face flushing red. “When you pinned me against the wall.”

“Then I’ll take care not to do that again.”

She shrugged with impatience. “That part doesn’t concern me as much. It’s…well…” Her voice trailed off, and she glanced away, cheeks bright red.

“You have to tell me, Caroline. Else how will I ever be able to prevent it from happening?”

She closed her eyes and gestured toward his groin. “When that gets…um…hard. That frightens me.”

“I see.” He gave a sigh and cuddled her a little closer. “I’m not certain what to do about that, love. I get excited whenever you’re around, and that’s the result.”

“What?” Her eyes popped open. “You told me
that’s a natural state for a man. That it had nothing to do with me.”

“And so it is. But alone in a room with you, and you kissing me—” He lowered his voice. “That had everything to do with you.”

“Good heavens!” She pulled out of his embrace.

He coaxed her back with an arm around her waist and cupped her chin in his hand. “I want you, Caroline, make no mistake. But I’m no blackguard to be forcing you. We’ll do this in your time.”

Her lips curved, and she touched a finger to his chin. “Your Irish accent is showing, husband.”

“It happens when I’m emotional.”

“I take it you’re emotional now.”

“Of course I am.” He took her fingers from his face and brushed a kiss across them. “I’ve a beautiful woman in my arms.”

“A damaged woman.” She sighed, resting her cheek against his chest. “I so wanted to be a true wife, Rogan. But I’m afraid. And I hate being afraid.”

“You’re not afraid now.”

“As long as we stay like this.” She stroked her palm down his chest, paused over his thundering heart.

“We can stay like this as long as you want. You can be the leader.”

“I can?” She glanced up at him, clearly intrigued by the idea.

He smiled down at her. “I’ll stay still, and I’ll
keep my hands here.” He rested his hands on her hips.

She pursed her lips and considered him. “You won’t move?”

“Not a muscle.”

“You’ll let me do anything I want?”

One side of his mouth curved in a rakish grin. “Absolutely.”

“I can touch you…” She stroked her hand down his chest again, watching him from beneath her lashes, “and you will stay where you are?”

“Yes.” The end of the word came out in a hiss as she smoothed a hand along his waist.

She had the ability to arouse him. The notion fascinated her. Intrigued her.

Curious, she again trailed her fingers along his side, following the waistband of his trousers. He stiffened, but his hands remained safely on her hips. She slanted a look at him. “Do you like this?”

“Very much.” His gray eyes glittered with male hunger, but he kept to his word and didn’t move.

“What about this?” She took a step closer to him, leaning her body lightly against his.

He swallowed hard. “Yes.”

Dizzy from her ability to affect him, she trailed a finger along his lower lip and down his chin. His hands clenched, then relaxed again. She pressed a soft kiss on his lips, her questing hands continuing to explore his torso. “You are a very handsome man, Rogan. I find myself thinking very unladylike thoughts when I see you.”

“Indeed?” His eyes slid closed as she nipped at his throat.

“Indeed.” She experimentally closed her teeth on his shoulder. “See?”

“Very unladylike,” he agreed with a low growl.

Her hands hovered near his flat stomach. “I want to be with you, Rogan. I want you to teach me what loving is all about. Not what I learned from…them.”

“Dear God, Caroline,” Rogan groaned, burying his face in her neck. “You’ll drive me mad, to be sure.”

To her surprise, this brought a smug little smile to her lips. “Good.”

He raised his head and caught a glimpse of her face. Then he chuckled. “Discovering your power, are you?”

“Apparently.” She tilted her head back to look at him, and he took the opportunity to nibble her neck. She gave a husky little laugh and let her head fall back farther to give him better access. “I thought you were supposed to stay still.”

“I did. My hands are still on your hips.”

“But your mouth—” She gasped as his teeth raked along her throat. “You’re not playing by the rules.”

“I’m making new ones.”

Caroline laughed for the first time in a long while and let her husband kiss her.

Rogan walked up the stairs, leading Caroline by the hand. He glanced back at her, and she
smiled at him, her lips swollen from his kisses, her dark eyes alight with discovery. His fingers tightened around hers, and she squeezed his back.

They wandered down the hall, fingers entwined, Caroline leaning into him slightly. He stopped outside her bedroom door.

She sighed and turned her face into his shoulder. “Home at last.”

“In a sense.” He tilted her face up with a gentle finger beneath her chin and searched her eyes. He saw no panic there, no fear. Just contentment and affection. “I think it’s time for the next step.”

Wariness darted across her face for an instant. “What’s the next step?”

“I think you should let me hold you tonight.”

She shifted, putting a few more inches between them. “It might be better if you tell me exactly what you mean by that.”

“I mean that you should get ready for bed. Put on your night rail, brush your hair. Then come to my room and let me hold you while you sleep.”

“That’s all?”

He chuckled at her skeptical tone and traced a finger along the slope of her cheek. “That’s all. I’ve come to the conclusion that the best way to deal with your fears is for us to become used to each other.”

“Perhaps you’re right.” Her gaze met his, her eyes dark with worry. “I’d like to sleep in your arms tonight. But are you certain you can…um…refrain?”

“I’m a grown man, not some stripling wet
behind the ears.” He gathered her closer, dropped a kiss on her temple. “Holding you in my arms tonight would give me great pleasure, love.”

She relaxed against him. “All right.”

He stroked a hand down her hair. “Go on, then. Marie is no doubt waiting for you.”

“No doubt.” She slowly pulled out of his embrace, her expression apprehensive but resolved. “I’ll get ready for bed.”

“And then you’ll come to me.” It wasn’t a question.

She nodded, her lips curving. “Then I’ll come to you.”

Hope lightened Caroline’s heart as she went about her duties the next day.

She had passed the night in blissful slumber, curled up against the warmth of her husband throughout the night. She hadn’t realized a man’s body gave off so much heat, and she’d awakened toasty and comfortable with Rogan’s arm slung across her waist.

He looked so young while he slept, she thought now with a smile at the memory. Perhaps it was because those fierce eyes were closed. But the important thing was that she had spent the whole night with him wrapped around her, and she’d slept as peacefully as a babe.

And she would do so again tonight.

Humming softly, she had decided to attack the pile of correspondence congratulating them on their nuptials, which waited to be addressed.
With Rogan gone to the village to see his solicitor, she had applied herself to the task on this dreary, rainy day. The project had taken hours, as Caroline often found herself staring into space and reliving some sweet memory from the night before.

Once she finally managed to plow through the pile of letters, cards, and invitations, she discovered herself to be out of sealing wax and went down to Rogan’s study to obtain some. As she pushed open the door to the masculine sanctum, the heavy wood furniture and bold colors seemed to discourage the presence of a female. She hurried to Rogan’s desk, feeling for all the world like a thief.

She found the wax immediately, but even as she clutched it in her hand, she found herself standing still, absorbing the familiar, citrusy scent of her husband that lingered in the room. Heat swept through her as surely as if he had touched her, and with an amused little smile, she sat down in his great leather chair and let herself absorb the vestiges of her husband that infused the room.

Besotted, that’s what she was. As surely as any schoolgirl.

She giggled, a sound that had not passed her lips in more years than she could count, and then spotted the day’s post piled on the desk. She pulled the stack toward her and flipped through it, setting aside those social letters and invitations to which it was a wife’s duty to respond. She set the rest back where they had been, and as she
pulled her hand back, she knocked a book off the desk.

The volume landed on its edge, and the pages exploded open, expelling several folded pieces of paper that she assumed Rogan used to mark his place. Sliding from the chair, she crouched down on the floor and began to gather up the papers.

A name on a partially open paper caught her attention: Randall Althorpe. Puzzled, she unfolded the letter the rest of the way and scanned it, but the contents only bewildered her further.

Why would Rogan have hired an investigator to look into cousin Randall’s background?

The question continued to plague her, long after she had set things back to rights and left the room.

Something was afoot, she determined as she dripped wax on her letters to seal them. And given Rogan’s tendency to protect her, she doubted he would tell her about it. It was time to stop being afraid, to look around her and see what was truly there. To make her own discoveries and decisions.

The best way to gain information, she knew, was through the social whirl. And what better place to start than Lady Jayton’s upcoming dinner party?

Jayton Hall glittered with lights and swelled with music. Caroline clung to Rogan as they
approached the dance floor, trying not to think about the dozens of people who jammed the ballroom.

“This is no intimate dinner party,” she whispered to him.

“Apparently not.” He smiled down at her. “You’re doing very well, love.”

“Well, I haven’t fainted yet,” she said with a wry grin.

“I’ll catch you if you do,” he promised as they took their places on the dance floor. He rested his hand at her waist and took her other hand in his, his gray eyes gleaming with humor and affection. “Don’t step on my toes now.”