Fire Glow

by Linda Ladd

  He took the steps three at a time in his haste to see her, striding down the darkened corridor to her bedchamber. Caitlin would be abed since the hour was so late, and the vision of Caitlin in her bedroom attire only fed his eagerness to reach her. He grinned as he tapped softly on the door panel, then pushed it open. The room was nearly dark, the flickering light of the fire shrouding most of the walls in deep shadows. The four-poster bed with its crimson velvet hangings was barely illuminated, but there was enough light for him to see it lay empty, the coverlet pulled back. He frowned as he looked around, finding the balcony doors standing wide, chilly drafts swirling in through the draperies. His expression softened to a smile when he saw Caitlin outside, her head upraised to the sky.

  Caitlin caught sight of him as he reached the door, and his heart soared giddily as she smiled in delight and caught his hand.

  "Trey! You have finally come back!"

  He could not help himself and drew her close, feeling her shiver, wondering if she was truly happy to see him, elated when she didn't pull away.

  "You shouldn't be out here without a wrap," he chastised gently. It's much too cold." Despite his words, she felt anything but cold in his arms, she felt warm and soft and womanly.

  "I could not help it—this is such a wondrous sight, so clear and white, just as Papa said it was."

  "Aye, love, it snows here so often that I have forgotten to look at its beauty."

  He smiled down at her, pleased that she had finally found something about England that was to her liking.

  "But come, you'll freeze out here."

  He drew her inside with him and closed the doors, and Caitlin gasped as he slid his arms beneath her knees and swooped her up. She didn't even think to protest, sighing at the feel of his strong, capable arms around her.

  "Tomorrow my sisters can teach you how to build a snowman," he said as he lowered her to the bed. "They both love the snow, especially Meggie."

  They looked at each other, neither's mind on snow. Trey picked up her hands, clasping them between his larger, warmer ones.

  "You're so cold," he murmured, slowly raising her fingers to his lips.

  It felt as if a glowing hot iron had touched her, and Caitlin could not stay the feelings that overwhelmed her.

  I was afraid you had left me, that I would never see you again."

  Trey's eyes came up to hers in surprise, then he gave a soft laugh.

  "I am afraid you have chained me to you far too tightly for that to ever happen. I don't think anything could keep me from you."

  His words touched Caitlin, and the warmth in his eyes warmed her heart.

  "I missed you," she said softly, reaching out to touch the hair at his temple.

  "And I you, heaven knows that," Trey said, pulling the covers up around her legs.

  "I think you could warm me far better than these covers, if you would," she said, causing Trey's heart to grow still in his chest.

  She had finally forgiven him, he could see it in her eyes. He stood slowly, the darting firelight bathing one side of his face in shifting golden shadows as he looked down at her, the pure blue of his eyes holding her in a relentless spell. His fingers went to the front of his shirt but stopped there as Caitlin came to her knees on the bed .She heard the quick intake of his breath as she pushed his hands away, smiling up at him as she slowly undid the buttons and pushed the shirt off his shoulders. Trey closed his eyes as she slid her silken arms around his waist, her soft lips moving upon the molded muscles of his chest.

  "I want you; I want you to make love to me."

  Trey groaned, his arms coming around her, lifting her until his lips found hers, and they hungrily tasted each other, mingling breaths and mouths and tongues until both were trembling.

  His hands shaking, Trey released her to sit down and pull off his boots, and Caitlin could not resist the intense desire to touch the rippling muscles of his body. She leaned against his bare back, sliding her palms lovingly over the wide brown shoulders, then down the front of his hard chest, the black furring crisp under her searching fingers. Trey caught her hands with his own, bringing them to his mouth, before he stood again.

  Caitlin sat back on her heels and watched him undress, smiling as she remembered the night of their wedding, when she had insisted that he disrobe in the dark. Now she watched him without embarrassment, unable to believe any mortal man could be so beautiful. He looked like some ancient and fierce god, tall, strong, magnificent. Pride flooded through her to think that he was really hers, that he really loved her, that he had defied his queen for her. For the first time, she truly realized what he had done for her, and she was frightened for him.

  He smiled as he came to her, and Caitlin felt herself begin to shiver as he put one knee on the bed. He raised his hand to gently brush her hair back over her shoulder, then his lean fingers moved to the silken ribbons that held her gown at the shoulders, and it fell away, sliding with a whisper of pink silk to lie in folds around her waist. His eyes wandered slowly over silken flesh bathed in gold, over the satin-soft ringlets draping her shoulders.

  "My God, you're beautiful."

  Their eyes touched, then his arm slid about her waist, gathering her close against him. Their lips met again, fusing with heated desire, as her soft breasts were pressed against his naked chest. Caitlin felt as if she were drowning in pleasure, her arms sliding around his neck as he slowly lowered her to the sheets.

  His mouth seared hers, at first tenderly, then with a growing hunger as she parted her lips, offering him the sweetness within. She moaned weakly as his tongue plunged to touch her own. He entwined his hands in her tangled tresses as his mouth enjoyed every part of her face—her cheeks, her chin, then her mouth—before he buried his face in the graceful curve of her throat.

  Caitlin arched up against him as his lips found the swelling softness of her breasts, felt his hand sweep away the gown twisted at her hips. Then he was atop her, claiming her, and Caitlin clasped him to her with trembling limbs, trembling lips, trembling heart. His arms tightened about her as they moved together, and she answered his starved passion with her own thundering desire, both lost in their wild, frenzied, writhing search for fulfillment. They thought of nothing but the feel of each other, the need and love and joy of their union. Swirling starbursts marked their journey to a moment of pure and blissful joy that forged them together with a rapture so great that they were left trembling and shaken in its wake.

  Afterward, their bodies remained entwined. Caitlin lying quietly in the tight, possessive circle of Trey's embrace. His mouth lay soft upon her hair, and Caitlin floated in a daze of happiness, fulfilled after long lonely months of strife between them.

  "I was wrong to take you from Windsway as I did."

  Trey's quiet words were unexpected, and Caitlin turned her head to find his blue eyes on her. She smiled as he ran a gentle finger down the elegant curve of her cheek to her soft lower lip.

  "Tell me what I have to do to keep you from divorcing me," he whispered. "Do I have to take you back?"

  The words were uttered huskily, but Caitlin could hear the vulnerability, and she knew he humbled himself to say them.

  I will go home," she said softly, "only if you will go with me."

  Caitlin saw the pleasure her response brought to him, saw the warm love in his eyes, and she knew he must surely see the same in her own.

  His kiss was so tender that it took her breath away.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The snow continued to fall, piling heavy drifts against the windows and trees, but it mattered little to Caitlin, for her nights were spent snuggled against her handsome husband in his huge warm bed. The velvet hangings wrapped them in a cozy, sheltered cocoon, where they leisurely explored all they had missed since their wedding night. Their days were spent in much the same way, Caitlin thought a little shamefully as she sat in Beatrice's small sitting room with Trey's family. The times they joined his mother and sisters were so infrequent as to cause Caitli
n a blush of embarrassment. But she certainly would not complain, having found a peace and contentment that she knew would never leave her.

  Caitlin now looked at Trey where he stood with one elbow resting on the mantlepiece, and their eyes met, promising pleasures in a glance that went unnoticed by the three who sat with them. Meghan played the harpsichord across the way, and Grace accompanied her sister's less-than-melodic tune quite beautifully on her viol. Caitlin could not help but smile at Meghan's pained expression as she bent over the keyboard, and before the last note had died, Meghan was on her feet and striding away as if the instrument might reach out and grab her back to it. Caitlin knew exactly how she felt.

  "I hate that stupid thing," Meghan grumbled. "It's bad enough that you make me practice every day, but to have to do it in front of Caitlin and everybody else is embarrassing."

  "Practice will make you as proficient as Grace is with her viol, her mother answered, glancing up from where she sat stitching on a rich length of gold brocade stretched over an embroidery frame. "But if you are tired, perhaps Trey could persuade Caitlin to entertain us on the harpsichord for a time."

  Trey laughed aloud at Caitlin's startled look.

  I do not think that possible, Mother. The last time I made such a request, Caitlin frightened her poor music master out of his wits by attacking him with his own baton."

  Meghan's eyes gleamed as she laughed in delighted admiration. "Truly, Caitlin? Did you do such a thing? I have often wished to slam the lid upon old Mr. Homesteads fingers."

  Beatrice presented her youngest daughter with a disapproving look, and Caitlin felt a slow flush rise into her cheeks. During the short stay at Worth House, she had found Beatrice to be very much a lady. But she possessed an elegant authority that in no way reflected the forced subservience that Caitlin had feared such a life would bring her. Beatrice Cameron was most kind and gentle, but she ruled her household with a firm and fair hand. Caitlin liked her mother-in-law very much.

  Trey smiled at his wife's blush, and found himself wanting to touch her again. He moved to stand behind Caitlin's chair, so he could place his palm upon her shoulder. As it settled there, Caitlin reached up and put her hand over his fingers, her open look of love enough to affect his pulse. He had intended to leave for London that very morning at the dawn's light, but, despite his good intentions, he had postponed his meeting with the Queen yet again. It had been over two weeks now since they had come to Worth House, but what would one more day matter? He would leave tomorrow, and perhaps he would take Caitlin with him so Anne could see their wedded happiness. The idea sat very well with him, much better than the thought of leaving Caitlin behind. He smiled as he sat down beside his wife and raised her slender fingers to his lips.

  Beatrice sighed with pleasure at the sight of the reconciled lovers, very glad they had resolved the problems that had plagued them. >From the beginning she had thought love would surely be the victor, and if the hot look that passed between them now was any indication, her son would soon settle down and give her the grandchildren for which she had longed for so many years.

  A great clattering of hooves against the cobbled drive outside arrested all their attentions, and Trey released Caitlin's hand, frowning as a din of loud masculine voices sounded at the side portico. He started for the commotion, angry at such an invasion of his home, but the doors before him were thrown wide, and at least ten of the Royal Guard burst into the room. On sight of Trey, swords scraped from as many scabbards.

  "What is the meaning of this?" Trey demanded furiously as several uniformed men surrounded him. Caitlin came to her feet in alarm, her hand going instinctively for the rapier she used to carry at her waist. She muttered a low curse at being unarmed.

  "In the name of Her Majesty, Queen Anne, we hereby arrest Lord Trey Cameron, captain of the ship Glory," the captain announced in a loud voice that was hardly necessary since Trey faced him squarely. Grace and Meghan gasped, and Beatrice stood, one hand pressed against her breast.

  Trey's voice was calm. "On what charges?"

  "Treason against the Crown," was uttered in a clipped tone, and Trey's lean jaw tightened. He had expected the Queen to be very angry with him, but he had not expected that she would go this far. He bowed his head in surrender, but Caitlin was less inclined to be so docile about his arrest.

  "Damn you bloody blackguards! The charge is absurd!" she shouted furiously, moving forward with her old hearty stride, and Beatrice's jaw dropped a degree despite her concern for her son.

  "Lady Caitlin Alexander?" the captain asked, looking slightly nonplussed by the fury on Caitlin's fair face.

  "Aye, I am she," Caitlin snapped, and the man brought his heels together in a smart salute before bending into a low bow.

  "Her Majesty wishes your presence at Hampton Court, my lady. We are to take you there."

  "Like the devil you will," Caitlin returned, her jaw slanting upward dangerously. Trey put a restraining hand on her shoulder.

  "Easy, my love. The Queen is angry with me, but she will understand our actions once we offer our explanations. We must do as they say."

  "Am I to accompany my wife to London?" he asked, turning back to the captain.

  "We are to take you both there. We have brought a coach for your lady and instructions that she is to prepare herself for an indefinite stay at the palace."

  Beatrice turned to Grace and spoke for the first time.

  Hurry, daughter, and bid Frieda pack Caitlin's things, then see to our own preparations." She looked back to Trey. "The girls and I will come as soon as we can be ready. I know Anne well. Perhaps my intervention on your behalf will help you."

  Caitlin was beginning to feel angry and helpless as those around her accepted the situation with a calm resignation that she did not feel in the least. She wanted to fight these men and escape with Trey before they could take him away in chains.

  Trey read the look in her eyes, and his whisper was low. "Do not be afraid to go with them. The Queen would never hurt you, and I doubt if her anger with me will last overly long. But now we have no choice but to obey her commands."

  Caitlin's fists doubled as Trey was led away by the armed soldiers. She stood without speaking as Meghan tearfully handed her the heavy fur-lined cloak she would need for the journey, then watched from the steps of the portico as the trunks were heaved atop the ornate royal coach with its solid gold trappings and shiny teakwood doors emblazoned with the Stuart crest. When all was ready, she hugged the girls and Beatrice, then haughtily refused the captain's assistance as she entered the conveyance which would carry her to London. She looked out the window to where Trey sat astride his black Arabian stallion, and he smiled reassuringly at her as the small contingent began to move. Both Meghan and Grace were crying, and Beatrice's face was set in grim lines, as the coach swayed away. Caitlin leaned back into the velvet seats, frowning as Trey was forced to fall in behind the coach where she could not see him.

  The ride to London was long and tiring, and Caitlin's trepidation increased with each passing mile. She hated her own helplessness. Despite Trey's loyalty to Anne and the confidence he displayed that Anne would listen to them, a bitter resentment toward this monarch who could so easily toy with her destiny had enveloped Caitlin by the time they reached the outskirts of the great city of London.

  Caitlin stared out of the windows at the narrow winding thoroughfares, full of people and horses, awed and a little frightened by the sheer enormity of the place. She had never seen anyplace to rival it—even the bustling port of Bridgetown was dwarfed in comparison. Caitlin was amazed at the throngs crowding the streets as if oblivious to the snow and cold weather. Persons of all classes and garb mingled there, from ragged urchins to the peers of the realm in their velvet cloaks and beplumed headgear, jostling one against another amid a great loud din of pealing churchbells.

  Caitlin's nerve began to waver as the carriage and its guard approached the massive iron entry gates to the Home Park of Hampton Court. She lean
ed close to the frosted glass, marveling as they drove down a wide avenue lined with stark wintry skeletons of oak trees. Her courage faltered somewhat now that the time was at hand to face the legendary English Queen, and the thought that Trey could end up rotting in some horrid cell filled her with dread. Her intuition told her that the Queen would not be mollified into forgetting Trey's actions by a mere explanation from him, and she squeezed her hands together as the carriage stopped before the stately red brick and white stone facade of Hampton Court.

  Moments alter, the captain opened the door, and Caitlin climbed down, looking around for Trey. He now stood a short distance away, but as he stepped toward her, the circle of guards tightened around him.

  Trey frowned as he was escorted into the palace, his eyes on Caitlin as she walked in front of him. She looked very pale and upset, and he wanted desperately to hold her in his arms and reassure her about the audience they were about to have. His concern deepened as they were led up the elaborately carved staircase to the Queen's state rooms. He had hoped Anne would receive them in her privy chambers. There he would have had an easier time presenting his case than he now would, since the entire Court would no doubt be on hand to observe their public appearance before her. The next few minutes with the Queen could determine whether he would keep Caitlin as his wife, and the thought of losing her drove like a sharp stake into his heart.

  Caitlin walked through magnificent rooms that opened one into another, hesitating as her guard stopped her at the entrance to the Queen's state drawing room. Floor-to-ceiling windows stretched along one side, presenting a spectacular view of the Fountain Gardens and the avenue on which they had just arrived. At the far end of the room atop a dais was the chair of state with its great canopy, rich with crimson and gold brocade and ostrich feathers. Queen Anne sat there, surrounded by her ladies-in-waiting and courtiers, looking most stern and somber in a black silk gown adorned with thousands of glistening pearls.