Samantha James (12 page)

His lips were cool and dry. There was no time to protest, no time to withdraw. She couldn’t suppress a shiver of distaste. She could never have married him, never!

His boldness did not go unnoticed by Egan. Glenda felt the very instant the tension invaded his
tall body. Simon’s gaze flickered to Egan.

“I trust there are no hard feelings,” Simon said smoothly.

Glenda held her breath and waited. Yet she should have known that Egan’s response would be equally calm, for he was not one to give rise to fits of temper.

“Nary a one. Nay, it simply would not do if we were enemies. You are welcome here, Simon, just as you were before. We are neighbors, are we not? And I suppose now is as good a time as any to tell you that your men need not patrol Blackstone lands at night searching for marauders—we’ve intruded on your generosity long enough. I’ve several men in mind that are quite up to the task. Please be assured, however, that if ever I can return the favor, I pray you will not hesitate to come to me.”

It was a warning. Whether anyone else knew it, it mattered not, for the three of them did. Something leaped in Simon’s eyes, something Glenda feared was anger. Yet it was swiftly masked.

“Rest assured, I will,” he said pleasantly. With a nod to both, he was gone.

In the hour that followed, Glenda’s head began to spin. Egan, however, seemed to be having the time of his life. Ah, but he was in a fine humor! A ready smile curved his lips and never waned, Egan who smiled but rarely! Never had she known a smile could be so grating! The earl returned and claimed the spot next to him. Very soon they were engrossed in avid conversation, as if they had known each other for years! Listening to Egan’s deeply resonant, voice and the earl’s laughing response, there could be no doubt the earl applauded her choice of husband.
Glenda wasn’t sure if she was relieved or incensed! As for Simon, she saw no more of him, and for that she was heartily grateful.

There was a never-ending procession of food from the kitchens—roast peacock with its bright plume of tail feathers intact, capon, goose, a various assortment of meat pies, cheeses and breads. As the dishes were offered and served, she accepted but a few.

Egan leaned close. “Why do you not eat?” he asked bluntly.

“I had a hearty meal this morn,” she murmured.

“You did not. I asked Nessa.”

Caught in the lie, Glenda said nothing. His eyes pinioned her, his regard so unrelieving and so penetrating she grew even more uncomfortable.

“Are you ill?”

“You know I am not one to sicken easily.” As if to prove it, she reached for a portion of mutton and chewed determinedly. Though it was juicy and tender, to Glenda it might have been boiled leather, for all she tasted of it.

He persisted. “Would you like to leave?”

“There is no need.” Though she blanched inwardly, she was outwardly calm. “I am fine. Truly.”

“Very well, then.”

He turned aside, but not before her eyes came to rest on his mouth. Just now the cast of his lips was unsmiling, yet not stern. The shape of his mouth was sensuous, his lower lip slightly fuller than the upper. All at once Glenda couldn’t help but remember how it felt on hers. Warm and smooth and resilient. So firm and relentlessly masculine.

A tight, heavy knot gathered in the pit of her stom
ach. She longed to be able to claim otherwise, but she was hardly unaware of him—a man who aroused feelings she’d never expected she would experience again. His scent was pleasant and clean; it swirled all around and filled her nostrils to the exclusion of all else. The fingers of one hand rested casually around his goblet as he glanced out across the hall at the revelers. His hands were lean and brown, so very much larger than her own. Panic engulfed her. What would happen when they were alone together? Her own curled in her lap. Her palms grew damp.

Jeannine started to pass by, only to be stopped by Egan. He beckoned her close, then leaned forward to whisper in her ear. Jeannine gave a nod, then moved around to Glenda and laid her free hand on her shoulder. “Come,” she murmured with shining eyes. “Come.”

Glenda shot him a fulminating look. Now she understood the reason for his whisper. The merest hint of a smile dallied about his lips, yet within the depths of his gaze lurked a wordless challenge.

Glenda longed to retire unnoticed. But as soon as she was on her feet, someone gave a shout. Her cheeks heated. Trying to close her ears to the bawdy remarks and boisterous laughter, she walked quickly toward the stairs.

Upstairs in her chamber, her clothes were drawn from her and a gossamer-thin gown drawn over her head and twitched into place. The transparency of the gown made her cheeks flush darker. Amidst giggles and knowing glances, the women withdrew. Yet alas, Glenda was allowed no time for sanctuary, no time to scarcely even draw breath, than Egan strolled
through the door, as if it were his due…as if he had every right to be here!

As indeed he did.

The door clicked quietly shut. For a moment he simply stood there, tall and powerful, his shoulders nearly as wide as the door.

Silence prevailed. Their eyes locked. Hers were the first to fall away. Candles burned brightly behind her and Glenda was certain the outline of her body was clearly visible. She fought desperately to slow the frantic throb of her wildly thrumming pulse.

His gaze shifted to the table near the fireplace, where a tray with wine and two goblets had been placed, then back to her.

“Would you like some wine?”

She shook her head.

“Then will you pour for me?”

Glenda hesitated, then moved to comply. As she handed it to him, quickly she withdrew her fingers lest they touch. If Egan noticed, he gave no sign of it. His manner was easy and relaxed, while she felt like screaming from the tension that played like a string upon her body.

“The day was long,” he remarked.

“But no longer than any other,” she returned.

No different than any other
. Though she did not say it, that was what her tone implied. So. This was what she thought of him. Of their wedding day. Throughout the day she would scarcely meet his gaze. He had noticed the paleness of her skin, yet no wounded doe was this! The incline of her chin told the tale only too well. And the slant of her mouth was fairly mutinous.

And indeed, now that they were alone, something
inside her rebelled. She was not yet ready to lay with another man—with Egan! To do so seemed the ultimate betrayal of her love for Niall.

Yet it was just as she’d told herself earlier. She must accept all the responsibilities of a woman…and a wife.

Nay, she would not live in dread of this night—in dread of this moment. It was better to feel nothing. Better to be done with it once and for all.

’Ere the thought sped through her mind, her hands were on the gown, dragging it from her shoulders. In one swift move she let it fall to the floor.

His breath hissed. Cool air rushed across her naked skin as she stepped from the gown. In some far distant corner of her mind, she was appalled at her audacity. What madness was this that she should taunt him so? She couldn’t explain the reckless anger that provoked such daring, yet it was too late to recall it.

Egan’s tone was tight. “What the devil do you think you’re doing?”

Slowly Glenda raised her head. They stood so close he had only to lift a hand that he might touch her. But his hands remained close at his sides. If she’d thought he would be overcome with lust, she was sorely mistaken. His eyes blazed, but not with lust.

Their eyes locked. “I but oblige my husband. Need I remind you this is our wedding night?”

“I need no reminder, Glenda.” The words were clipped and abrupt.

The burning of his gaze seemed to forge twin holes within her. Her chest rose and fell quickly with each breath. “Nor do I, so do what you will. I will not stop you.”

Still he moved not a muscle. The air in the chamber was suddenly stifling and close.

Wildly she said the first thing that came into her head. “What is it? I stand before you naked…naked and willing!”

Egan could not help it. Slowly he looked the length of her, a scorching appraisal that left no part of her untouched. Did she truly think he was so noble that he would not? If she did, then she had woefully underestimated him. Indeed, he was hardly unmoved by the sweetness of her feminine charms displayed in their entirety. Aye, he’d seen her naked before, but not like this. Never so close at hand…the very sight of her made his blood run thick and his heart pound, his loins swell painfully hard and erect.

Her hair hung well below her buttocks, a rippling cascade the color of honey. Her skin was pale and unblemished; in the flickering candlelight, it gleamed with the luster of a pearl. Impudent, coral nipples crowned breasts that were delightfully round and alluring; he yearned to weigh their unbridled fullness in his palms, to taste those budding tips and suck hard and long until she cried out in wanton ecstasy. Her hips flared below the nip of her waist. He longed to thread his fingers through the golden thatch at the joinder of her legs and spread wide the pinkness of her core.

It was agony, knowing she was indeed within his grasp…yet never had she been so disdainfully aloof! He saw the way she swallowed; sensed her struggle as she fought to keep her hands at her sides and refrain from shielding herself. Egan did not touch her, though his hands itched to. He ached to
catch a handful of her hair and bind it around his fist, bringing it to his mouth, to taste it and feel for himself if it was as soft as her lips. But he was neither blind nor a fool. No doubt she had disrobed on her own so that she need not suffer his hands on her body!

His jaw clenched tight. “Willing, is it?” His laugh was brittle and short. He bent, snatched up the bedgown and flung it at her. “Cover yourself!”

Stung by his fierceness, for an instant Glenda gaped at him. Then a rallying anger rose like a tide within her. “What do you expect? The earl demanded that I marry. I have done so. But I do not have to like it.”

“Tell me then, and tell me true: would you rather be with Simon? I saw you when he kissed you, Glenda. You shuddered, and I daresay ’twas not in ecstasy. Yet now you dare to taunt me, with words and with this bold display of flesh! Do you think I do not know what you are about? You think to stir my wrath, to make me take you in anger, that you might then condemn me.” His lips thinned. “’Tis not like you to scheme, Glenda. ’Tis not like you to be so petty!”

“I do not scheme!” she flared. Petty, was she! Why, the oaf! Did he treat bedding a woman so lightly then? Would she have been just another tumble like…like the maids he’d taken at Dunthorpe? Oh, but it was just like him! Bitterly she confronted him. “I might add that ’tis not like you to gloat!”

“I do not gloat,” he said flatly.

“Didn’t you? I watched you. I watched you throughout the day, and you did gloat! You gained
much today, Egan. A wife. Lands aplenty. This keep.”

“Aye, I gained lands, lands whose tenants have fled! And this keep…a keep that needs a goodly amount of repairs and fortification. Oh, aye,” he mocked, “I gained much this day—this keep, and all the burdens that come with it!” Egan was starkly, bitterly furious, and cared not if she knew it! He stepped to the bed and swept the coverlet aside.

“In with you,” he ordered curtly.

“I will not! Aye, you are right—Simon’s kiss did make me shudder—and so did yours! I did not want this. I did not want you!”

Her defiance rankled. “You lie, Glenda.”

“I do not!”

Egan’s response was instantaneous—and uncontrollable. Boldly he clamped her breasts with both hands, raking his thumbs across both peaks until they sprang eager and taut with longing. Dismayed by her body’s involuntary response, she looked up at him with a gasp. The gaze he leveled on her was one of fearsome intensity.

“Will you deny what you are?” he demanded. “What you feel? You are not a woman who is cold as a grave lined in winter’s frost. You are not a woman without passion! I’ve felt it for myself! By God, I feel it now.”

The suddenness of the action—and aye, the possessive hold of strong brown hands upon that part of her—wrung a choked sound from deep in her throat. She tore herself away.

“You pretend to know the secrets of my heart,” she cried, “but you know nothing of me!”

His eyes rained blue fire. “Nothing, is it? I know you pine for Niall. Even after all this time, you pine for him. But Niall is dead, Glenda. Dead. He will never come back. Why can you not see it?”

“No one knows it better than I!” She let loose the storm in her heart. “Damn you, Egan, damn you! Why must you do this? Why must you hurt me? You cannot know the pain I live with, the heartache that cleaves me in two!”

And you cannot know the pain I feel in watching you
, he almost said. Yet something held him back.

She straightened her shoulders proudly. “I do not want to lay with you,” she announced.

“We are wed, Glenda.”

“Aye, we are wed!” The words were fairly flung at him. “But I do not want your seed! Do you hear me?
I do not want your seed
!”

Egan went utterly still, both inside and out. The words scalded him, burning through him like a raw, blistering wind. He could barely check the impulse to snatch her to him, to smother her mouth with his and show her what rubbish she spoke!

Blackness stole over him, a shroud of darkest midnight. That she dared accuse him of hurting her! By God, it was she who dealt a punishing blow to the very center of his soul. But he would not allow her to know the depth of his hurt. He masked his pain with the fury that still simmered just below the surface.

His posture rigid, he gestured to the bed. “Get in,” he said between his teeth.

His expression was all at once so darkly forbidding, she nearly shrank back. Desperately she shook
her head. “Nay,” she said faintly. “I told you, Egan. I will—”

“I heard what you said, Glenda, but you will not make a fool of me. We are expected to share a bed this night, and by God, we will. Oh, you need not worry that I will lay a hand on you. I would not take you for Blackstone Keep and a thousand others like it.”