Wild Hearts (32 page)

Paris spoke up firmly. "We are here to wed, and our time is short."

The chaplain asked, "What are your names?"

"Paris Cockburn and Tabrizia Cockburn," he said steadily.

The priest raised an eyebrow. "There is no impediment?"

Tabrizia cried, "Yes!"

Paris Cockburn said loudly and firmly, "None! Get on with it."

The chaplain cut down on the prayers to get to the essential vows. He wanted to be rid of this couple as quickly as may be. He addressed Paris:

"Wilt thou, Paris Cockburn, take Tabrizia Cockburn to be thy lawful wedded wife?

In a harsh, steady voice Paris said, "I will," and pledged himself for the rest of their lives.

The priest turned to the lovely young bride. "Wilt thou, Tabrizia Cockburn, take Paris Cockburn to be thy lawful wedded husband?"

She held her head high in defiance and in clear, bell-like tones said, "I will not!"

The words pierced his heart. His eyes begged her not to reject him, but she defied him with every breath in her body.

The chaplain was at a loss, uncertain how to proceed:

A great heaviness lay upon Paris's chest that it would have to be a forced marriage. His resolve hardened. Paris took his dirk from his belt and laid it upon the altar. He looked the cleric directly in the eye and bellowed, "Are ye deaf? She answered in the affirmative." His manner was so threatening that the chaplain decided he had better solemnize the union. He lowered his eyes and rapidly said, "For as much as Paris and Tabrizia have pledged their troth before God, I pronounce that they be man and wife together."

Paris pushed his emerald ring upon her third finger and curved her hand so it could not fall off.

Tabrizia screamed her protests, but it was all in vain as both men pretended not to hear her.

The chaplain finally said, "It is customary to kiss the bride."

Tabrizia recoiled.. "You are a devil, and you, sir, are his disciple!"

Paris raked her with an insulting glance that traveled from her eyes to her mouth to her breasts and back up again. "I decline the kiss," he decided with a sneer. He picked up his dirk and replaced it in his belt.

A mixture of anger and fear made her lips tremble, and she thought she might faint. His green eyes froze her with such cold contempt that she stiffened her resolve and promised herself she would not be so weak as to faint at his feet. The thought was driven home to her that even if she ran from the chapel, shrieking her denials, it would all be in vain. She was truly wed to him, legal or no, bound inexorably, willing or not, and there was nothing she could do about it.

Her husband's deep voice at her ear made her jump. "Shall we go, Lady Cockburn?" he mocked as he hurried her out.

CHAPTER 14

Tabrizia felt his firm hand at the small of her back as he propelled her up the staircase that led from the chapel to the main entrance of Denmark House. The moment they stepped outside, a carriage drew up and she saw that its driver was none other than Jasper, with her trunk safely stowed at his side. She cast an accusing glance upon him that was so withering, he squirmed in his seat and looked away from her. Paris saw the exchange and explained, "Jasper is of my clan and owes allegiance only to the Cockburns."

She flared. "I am a Cockburn. My father set him the task of protecting me!"

"Until you were wed; then it became your husband's duty to protect you." His taunting smile hinted at what she could expect. He swept her into his arms and lifted her into the carriage, then swung in beside her. She made a move away from him, but she was too late, for already his weight had anchored the skirt of her gown and cloak, so she was forced to sit close to him. His thigh lay alongside hers on the carriage seat, and she could feel the warmth radiating from his powerful body.

She lowered her head and clasped her small hands together tightly, and as she did so, her eyes fell upon the ring. She averted her eyes and turned her head away from him. He chuckled at her attempts to ignore him.

"You will be pleased to learn that I dispatched a note to Magnus telling him of our plans, so he would not be worried for you."

"Our plans!" she gasped indignantly: "You mean,
your
plans. You would be wise to fear my father's wrath!"

She heard his confident, taunting laugh again. "Magnus will accept a
fait accompli
."

"Did you have the courage to inform Patrick of your plans for me?" she challenged, her fiery eyes burning him with hatred.

At mention of his rival's name, a flaming jealousy ran through him, eating him. "He has been informed," he answered. He did not tell her of the meeting that had taken place between the two men, nor of the ten thousand pounds he had paid Patrick Stewart to relinquish his claim upon her. He would never tell her, never hurt her so deeply.

As the carriage lurched to a stop, his arm came up to prevent her from being flung forward. As his hand accidently brushed against her breast, she blushed a deep pink, shrinking from his touch. He uttered an oath beneath his breath and got out of the carriage. As he turned to assist her, she spat, "Don't touch me!" As though he had not heard her, his strong arms lifted her to his side. She noted with satisfaction that he had indeed heard her, for the muscles of his jaw were tense with anger.

She saw that they were at a place where many ships lay at anchor. She gave a fleeting thought to what lay ahead of her. So far her anger had kept the darkling fear off, but she knew the moment approached when they would be alone in his cabin, and she began to tremble. He noticed immediately and drew her furs more snugly about her, before urging her along the dock and onto the gangplank of the
Sea Witch.

On deck a dark figure spoke up. "Half an hour till the tide turns, Captain."

Paris growled in her ear, "That should be long enough." He closed the cabin door behind them and turned up the lamps to bathe them in a rosy glow.

Her head shot up defiantly. "Long enough for what?"

He regarded her steadily with icy green eyes. "Long enough for me to lay the law down to you, madam." His quiet tone was more menacing than if he had shouted. "You may have some time to yourself while I navigate the
Sea Witch
from the Thames estuary into the Atlantic. When I return, this marriage will be consummated, and consummated well!" His eyed fastened, on her breasts, went lower, then held her glance with a hypnotic stare. "I will put my brand upon you once. Then I will leave you in peace." He would leave no loopholes. He would consummate the marriage this night to eliminate any chance of annulment. That she could possibly prefer another man caused him such pain, he felt a driving need to taunt her. "Don't worry, after tonight I will take my pleasure elsewhere since I prefer not one but many women. All I need do is lift an eyebrow and women are eager to gallop upstairs with me."

"To be left in peace is all I ask," she managed to say.

"I will leave you alone on one condition. When we arrive home, you will never, by look nor word, let the family or the servants know that there is anything wrong between us. I will not be a laughingstock! You will play the role of the devoted, loving wife in their presence. How we treat each other behind our locked bedroom door is another matter. Save your wrath until we are in private, that is all I demand." He turned on his heel and left her to digest his rules.

Her legs would not support her, so she sank to the bed to sort out her thoughts and feelings. They were man and wife, but they were bitter enemies, each ready to goad the other to madness, yet he had meant it when he forbade her to goad him in front of the family. How would she be able to live a life .of pretense? She paled; there was this night still to be gotten through, why was she worrying about her tomorrows? She jumped as a knock came upon the door. One of Paris's men, whom she did not recognize, carried in her trunk and left immediately. She hung up her beautiful sable cloak and knelt to open the trunk. With trembling fingers she unhooked the latches and lifted out her toilet articles. She carried them over to the magnificent black-and-red-lacquered cabinet that-stood in the corner. As she glanced up into the mirror she saw wide, frightened eyes staring back at her beneath the majestic coronet. Slowly, she raised her hands to divest herself of the crown, now so inappropriate.

With unsteady hands she poured water to bathe her flaming cheeks and cool her brow, then she brushed out her hair, which had somehow gotten into a wild tangle. She sat down with folded hands to await his coming. She made no move to undress; she would lift not one finger to assist him in asserting his rights upon her, and though she had no doubts whatever of the outcome, she would resist and fight him to her last breath. As the minutes stretched out, her nerve endings stretched also, until she thought they would snap. To calm herself, she let her eyes roam about the cabin. The red mahogany panels gleamed as the light from the brass lanterns reflected their deep, rich polish. The Oriental carpet was thick beneath her feet. The air was warmed by a pair of copper braziers filled with coals. She glanced down at the bed and saw the startling contrast of her white bridal gown against the black satin covers. The air was scented with sandalwood, and she connected this smell with him.

Suddenly, panic rose in her throat as she heard his firm tread, then he opened the door and stepped into the cabin. His look took in every detail, and she held her head proudly as her eyes met his gaze. He saw that she had only removed the coronet and mocked, "My Queen of Hearts." Her pale amethyst eyes darkened to purple, but she held his gaze defiantly. Paris, laughing at her, began to divest himself of his clothes. Now she was caught in a trap of her own making. Should she continue to look at him with defiance or lower her eyes in submission? Stubbornly, she stared at him while he took off his doublet, then stripped off the white shirt to reveal the muscled chest covered with crisp, dark red hair. His teeth flashed white in his beard as he took off his belt and laid aside the small deadly weapons it always held. Without pause, he kicked off his polished black boots and reached to pull off his tight, black breeches. Her heavy lashes lowered quickly, and he laughed at her unmercifully. "Modesty is becoming in a. bride," he mocked again.

His mockery stung her to defiance as once more she lifted her eyes to him. He was naked now, save for the emerald in his ear, making her blush profusely. "You are physically stronger than I, but I won't submit without a fight!"

He swept her with a casual glance, "As you wish. We have all night." As he advanced toward her, she jumped up and retreated across the room. The corner of his mouth went up scornfully as he pursued her relentlessly. He maneuvered her into a corner, then simply reached out and took her.

She lashed out at him with both fists, spitting and biting like a wildcat. It took him little more than a moment to pin her arms securely behind her back and bring her full against his powerful body. With his other hand he wrenched at the gown, and the buttons on the high neck gave away and went spilling across the floor.

His eyes burned into hers as he pulled the gown from her body, tearing it irreparably in the struggle. She managed to break away from him again, and his eyes followed her insolently as he took in every detail of the revealing, white silk undergarments. She was breathless from her exertions, and a sob caught in her throat as she saw his shaft rise up to harden and thicken, proud, blood-crimsoned.

She panicked, which made it even simpler for him to capture her a second time. His eyes devoured her breasts as they swelled above the soft white silk, and with one swift wrench with his strong, brown hand, the material fell away and she was naked.

Without ceremony he lifted her small, struggling body over his shoulder and took her to his bed. He threw her on top of it and dropped down to pin her to the bed with his powerful body until she wore herself out with her exertions. She was panting and quivering, and her heart beat wildly, yet he wasn't even breathing hard as he casually held her down and waited until her limbs stopped their futile thrashing. Eventually, her strength was spent, and she quieted and lay still. She turned her face from him and closed her eyes

He said, "Madam; you are so predictable. First you fight me like a wildcat, and now that your strength is spent, you will lie passive as a cold piece of marble." As he gazed down at her creamy limbs and fiery, tangled tresses against the black satin of the bed, he thought he had never seen anything as lovely in his life. He rolled her over and gave her a small slap across her bottom. "Get into bed." She made no move to obey, but she did not resist him, either, as he pulled down the covers and lifted her into the bed. She turned her body away from him and lay rigid and aloof.

He smiled as he moved across the bed to lie full-length against her back. Didn't she realize this position left her most vulnerable parts open to his hands? His arms stole around her, and one hand stroked the silken fullness of her breast, while the other went lower to tease the curls between her legs.

She lay rigid, but each time his hand touched her most secret part, she moved imperceptibly away from it, and every time she did so, her buttock touched the tip of his shaft, giving him such exquisite pleasure, he couldn't bring himself to stop. She endured his fingers upon her breast, not resisting him in any way; but when they began to tease and play with her nipples, they budded and stood erect, and as he went on and on, her breasts seemed to grow full and throbbing.