Prince Charming (27 page)

Lucas opened his eyes and found Taylor staring at him. She didn't say a word, and neither did he. He simply put the telegram down on the table, then reached for her. She didn't resist. Lucas lifted her into his arms, stood up, and carried her to her bed. He settled her in the middle of the sheets, then stood by the side to undress. Taylor wasn't watching him disrobe. She'd closed her eyes, rolled onto her side, away from him, and curled herself up into the blankets.

He wasn't going to let her withdraw from him. She needed to let her pain out, to weep without holding back . . . to begin to mourn.

Lucas got into bed and took her into his arms. She fought him but only for a second or two, and then she put her arms around his waist, buried her face in the crook of his neck, and started shaking almost violently.

He comforted her the only way he knew how. He stroked her back with his hands while he whispered words he hoped would soothe her.

He held her close, and even after he was certain she'd fallen asleep, he continued to keep her in his embrace.

He never wanted to let go.

 

He woke up on top of her again. It was the dead of the night, almost four in the morning. Awareness slowly eased up on him. He was nuzzling the side of her neck and trying to wedge his knee between her thighs when he realized what he was doing. He had already worked her nightgown up around her hips. She wasn't wearing anything underneath. She wasn't fighting him either. Her legs were entwined with his, her arms were wrapped around his neck, and Lucas, still more asleep than awake, thought she must be having the same kind of erotic dream he was having because she was kissing his neck the very same way he was kissing hers.

He didn't want to stop. His hand moved up, under her gown, stroking, caressing. He cupped the underside of one breast. His thumb brushed across her nipple. She let out a low moan against his ear and tightened her hold on him. He suddenly needed to taste her. He became rough in his quest. He grabbed hold of the back of her neck and forced her to turn toward him. His mouth sealed any protest she might have made. His tongue swept inside to find and mate with hers. He kissed her ravenously while his hands caressed her neck, then moved lower until each covered her breasts. The heat from her skin drove him wild. Her scent, like flowers, faint but irresistible, wooed him, drugged him, and all he could think about was getting a little closer to her clean, feminine fragrance. Her skin felt silky. He wanted to taste every inch of her. His hands moved lower. They spanned her waist, then moved lower still, until he was touching the very heat of her. Her back arched upward and she let out a low gasp.

Then she started trembling. He tore his mouth away from hers and started to unbutton his pants. He was hard, throbbing now with his need to plant himself solidly inside her.

His breath was ragged with his desire. He couldn't quit kissing her while he was stripping out of his clothes, however, and it wasn't until he tasted the salty tear on her cheek that reality finally set in.

What the hell was he doing? Lucas felt as though he'd just been drenched in iced water. He took several deep, shuddering breaths in an attempt to get his heart to slow down. His first logical thought wasn't a pleasant one. He realized he was taking horrid advantage of Taylor. She couldn't possibly be thinking straight. She'd only just gotten the news her grandmother had died. She needed comfort now, not debauchery.

He tried to get off of her. He pulled her nightgown down and forced himself to roll to his side. It took every ounce of strength he possessed, but he did accomplish the feat. The problem, however, was that Taylor came with him. She couldn't let go of her hold either. Her opened mouth was on his throat, and she was moving erotically against him, urging him without words to come back to her.

He was having none of it. He pulled her arms away from his neck and tried to get her to move back to her side of the bed. She wouldn't leave. She wrapped her arms around his waist and held on for dear life.

She needed him to love her. The second that realization popped into Taylor's mind, she stiffened against Lucas. Oh, God, what was she doing?

She was suddenly overwhelmed with self-pity and desolation. Madam was gone. That fact was all Taylor could focus on. She couldn't imagine life without her. How could she go on, all alone? Madam had become a safety net. If the problems of living in the wilderness became overwhelming, Taylor knew she would have written to her dear grandmother to seek her council . . . and her love. Madam would have told her what to do and even if Taylor hadn't taken the advice, she would have felt that someone else cared. Madam had acted as Taylor's mother in every sense of the word. There was still Uncle Andrew, of course, but he wasn't at all like a father. He was her dear, eccentric, reclusive uncle, her playmate, actually, when she was a little girl and her dear friend now. Who else but Uncle Andrew would have insisted she live in a soddie for a month to find out if she had the gumption and fortitude it would take to live on the frontier if ever she had the chance. Yes, there was still Uncle Andrew she could write to, but it wasn't at all the same.

She missed her mama. The pain was staggering. She thought she'd been prepared to lose Madam. Oh, God, it hurt, so much in fact that she'd deliberately set out to seduce her husband in an attempt to find comfort . . . and love, mock though it would have been, just to ease the horrendous ache in her heart.

“Don't you want me, Lucas?”

He heard the catch in her voice. He couldn't believe she needed to ask the question. He wasn't very gentlemanly in giving his answer. He rolled onto his back, grabbed hold of her hand, and roughly placed it on his groin. Words weren't necessary after that. Taylor's reaction was just as he expected, too. She pulled her hand away as though she'd been burned.

She moved away from him and sat up. “Then why did you stop?”

He stacked his hands behind his head before answering. He counted to ten. He was fully occupied trying to keep himself from tearing his pants off and having his way with her.

“I didn't want you to stop.”

He groaned. His jaw was clenched tight and his brow was covered with perspiration. In the darkness, Taylor could barely make out his expression. Tears were streaming down her cheeks. She wiped them away with the backs of her hands. She felt humiliated and miserable. She wanted to hide and weep and, oh, God, she wanted Madam back.

Taylor didn't say another word. She scooted over to the very edge of the bed, trying to get as far away from him as possible, then pulled the covers up. She squeezed herself into a ball, closed her eyes, and fought to keep herself from openly sobbing.

Several minutes passed in silence. She thought he'd fallen asleep. She wanted to leave the bedroom and go back to the parlor. She'd sleep on the lounge again. She knew she was close to losing her composure, for she could feel it disintegrating even now, and she didn't believe there could be anything more humiliating than breaking down in front of him. It had been many years since even Madam had seen her cry. She would have been appalled and ashamed of her granddaughter. Taylor didn't think she could bear it if Mr. Ross witnessed her grief. He would surely find her lack of discipline and control disgusting. She felt ashamed just thinking about the possibility.

She had to get out of there. She tossed the covers back, sat up, and started to swing her legs over the side of the bed. He caught her before she stood up. Taylor didn't even have time to struggle. Lucas moved with lightning speed. He pulled her across the bed, wrapped his arms around her waist, and flattened her against him. Her backside was snug against his groin. His chin rested on the top of her head. He wasn't going to let her go anywhere.

“Taylor?”

She wouldn't answer him. He wasn't deterred. “You wanted me to make love to you for all the wrong reasons.”

She tried to move away. He tightened his hold. “You did want me, didn't you?”

She wasn't going to answer his question, but then he started squeezing her and she realized he wasn't going to let up until she gave him what he wanted.

“Yes, I did,” she whispered.

“You would have regretted it in the morning.”

She thought about his statement a long minute. Then she whispered, “Probably,” just to appease him. She didn't believe it though. She wanted Lucas tonight with an intensity she'd never, ever experienced before. The way she was feeling terrified her. Taylor always wanted to be in control. She needed to be disciplined with her emotions and her reactions. Fear had done that to her. And Marian. Taylor had learned from her older sister. Marian hadn't just protected her from Uncle Malcolm's lust, she'd also taught her how to take every precaution imaginable, both mental and physical, to ensure that she would never become a victim to any man.

And then along came Lucas Ross. Taylor didn't know how to protect herself from him. She'd done just fine for quite a number of years, even became engaged to William Merritt and planned a wedding, all the while never giving even a part of her heart away to her fiancé. Although she was devastated by his betrayal, the truth of the matter was that the scandal and the humiliation were more appalling to her than the loss of William. She really hadn't been overly surprised, because Merritt had, after all, lived up to her expectations.

Lucas came from an altogether different kettle of fish. He wasn't at all like the other men she'd known. He was kind and caring and considerate, and oh, God, she really wished he'd stop it. Without even trying, he was tearing away all her shields, and she knew if she wasn't constantly on her guard, he'd sneak right in and steal her heart.

“Taylor?” His voice was a gruff whisper.

“Yes?” she whispered back.

“When I take you, you're only going to be thinking about me.”

He rubbed his chin across the top of her head in a gentle caress. “You were thinking about your grandmother tonight. It's all right,” he added. “You need to mourn.”

She shook her head. “Madam told me I couldn't,” she explained. She turned in his arms and rested the side of her face on his chest. “She made me promise I wouldn't wear black. I'm supposed to look to the future, not the past.”

The sob caught her by surprise. Lucas rubbed her back and pulled her closer. “What else did she tell you?”

“To remember her,” Taylor whispered. The tears were falling rapidly now. Taylor couldn't stop the flow. “She wanted me to tell the babies kind stories about her.”

Lucas assumed she was talking about the babies she would have in the years to come. “She'll be remembered,” he said then.

He didn't think Taylor had heard him. She was openly sobbing now and apologizing for her conduct every other minute.

“Sweetheart, it's all right to cry.”

She didn't agree with his opinion, but she couldn't stop weeping long enough to tell him. She didn't know how long she carried on. It seemed forever to her. Then she got the hiccups, and God, she was a mess, crying all over Lucas and making the most horrendous, unladylike noises.

He didn't seem to mind. He got up, found a handkerchief, got back into bed, and handed it to her. After she'd mopped her face with the thing, he took it away from her, tossed it on the nightstand, and pulled her back into his arms. He was being extremely gentle. The kindness he was showing her only made her weep all the more. After a while, he tried to get her to calm down.

“Hush, love. It's all right.”

He must have repeated that promise a good ten times. Nothing was ever going to be all right, she thought. Madam wasn't ever coming back. Taylor was now all alone and fully responsible for two two-year-olds, and Lucas Ross didn't know spit about what was going to be all right and what wasn't.

She was too drained to argue with him. She literally cried herself to sleep while she held onto her husband and let him comfort her. She felt safe and protected. Dear God, she never wanted to let go.

—William Shakespeare,
Antony and Cleopatra

 

 

 

 

T
aylor overslept. Victoria came looking for her friend at half past eight o'clock. She was worried about Taylor and explained in a rush to Lucas the minute he opened the door that Taylor was late meeting her for breakfast. Was she ill or had she forgotten they were supposed to dine together in the Ladies Ordinary a half hour ago?

Lucas didn't tell Victoria about Taylor's grandmother. He shook his wife awake, then took over the task of escorting Victoria to breakfast. He wasn't hungry and therefore only ate a single portion of the sausages, fish, biscuits, gravy, baked apples with cinnamon, poached eggs, and potatoes. Victoria ate a single dry biscuit and a glass of freshly mashed and squeezed apple juice.