“That’s terrible!” Caroline exclaimed. “They had her committed just because she was upset that her father died and she didn’t obey her brother?”
“Well, that’s the long and short of it, I expect,” Mary Ann said. “Goodness, Miss Caroline—your hair! When I think how long I spent straightening it this morning and now it’s just as curly as the devil’s own tail!”
“Leave it, please.” Caroline put up a hand to stop her from brushing. “I don’t mind it curly.”
“But it’s not the fashion to have curly hair just now!” Mary Ann protested. “The very most you can get away with is a bit of a wave. And I must put it up properly for you—I can’t imagine how you contrived to lose all your hairpins but you can’t just let it hang down!”
“Please,” Caroline said. “I…I have a terrible headache. Can’t we worry about my hair later?”
“Oh of course—poor lamb.” Mary Ann tsked again. “Anyway, I expect Master Richard is waiting to examine you. I was just trying to make you look your best, as you always seem to want when you’re around him.”
“Thank you for your thoughtfulness but he’ll just have to see me as I am right now,” Caroline said firmly.
“Well, as you wish.” Mary Ann sighed and put the hair brush back on the dresser. “I’ll be back to check on you later. I’ll have cook make you a nice broth and a hot pot of tea.”
“That sounds perfect,” Caroline said gratefully. “Thank you so much, Mary Ann.”
The lady’s maid gave her an odd look.
“Well, you’re welcome of course, Miss. Though you know you need not thank me—I’m only doing my job.”
Caroline felt her stomach twist. Was her doppelganger not in the habit of thanking the servants? Remembering the haughty way the other woman had spoken to Richard, she thought that was entirely likely. She needed to do a better job playing the part of the other Caroline if she was going to avoid the mad house while she was here.
I certainly don’t want to spend the rest of my life taking freezing ice baths and getting electro-shock therapy because someone labeled me “hysterical,” she thought grimly. I have to do better—and I certainly can’t tell anyone the truth about who I am or where I came from. They’ll think I’m mad for sure and lock me up.
“I’ll see you later, Mary Ann,” she said, trying for a more formal tone. “In the meantime, you can send Master Richard in.”
“Of course, my lady.” Mary Ann seemed satisfied with this. She dropped a little half-curtsey and left the room. She shut the door behind her but then Caroline heard her talking in low tones—presumably to Richard. She couldn’t hear everything that was said but the phrases, “…speaking strangely,” and “…lost her memory,” came through the wooden panel of the door clearly enough.
Caroline frowned. Was Mary Ann trying to start malicious gossip about her? From watching her BBC shows she knew that servants excelled at that kind of thing. Or did the lady’s maid honestly trust Richard and was trying to appraise him of the situation, the way a seasoned nurse would inform a doctor of new symptoms in a patient they shared?
Either way, it wasn’t good for people to think something was off about her. But she didn’t see how she could continue in this world without pretending that she had at least some memory loss. There was simply no way to navigate the other Caroline’s life otherwise—not believably, anyway.
And what about the other Caroline? Had she really been struck by lightning? Or was she trying to deal with Caroline’s life the way Caroline was trying to deal with hers?
Caroline doubted very much whether she’d be able to fool anyone who knew the real her aboard the Mother Ship even for a minute—if she was even trying. She had seemed like a spoiled brat who expected people to wait on her, which was very unlike Caroline herself. And there was no way she could know how to operate PORTAL or understand the complex equations behind its technology. Probably just seeing the advanced tech would freak her out.
If she’s alive, she’s probably thinking she’s gone crazy right about now, Caroline thought. What other explanation would make sense to her, coming from this level of technology to the advancements of the Mother Ship?
There was a lot to speculate about but just then the door opened again and Richard strode into the room. Taking a deep breath, Caroline turned to confront her “husband.”
She only hoped she could get through this exam without making him think she’d gone mad.
Chapter Five
Richard took a deep breath as he strode into his wife’s room—a place he had not been welcome since their Joining night. A night on which absolutely nothing had happened.
Caroline was still as much a virgin now as she had been on that long ago night, two years ago. She had informed him then, haughtily but with fear in her lovely brown eyes, that she did not intend to allow him his “husbandly dues” at that time or ever and that he might as well leave her room at once.
Though the misguided and misogynistic laws of this world dictated that once married or joined, a husband had complete rights to his wife’s body and could do with her as he pleased, Richard was a Kindred and had no taste for rape. He had told her as much and left for his own rooms, across the hall.
It had been a disappointing outcome, but he had told himself that there was time. The law allowed for a two year claiming period and he and Caroline were meant by the Goddess for each other. He was certain of it for he had dreamed of her for months before calling her. Indeed, he dreamed of her still. Though she denied it, he was certain she must have been dreaming of him too—they were Dream Sharing and there was no clearer sign that a male and female should be together.
But to his gradual dismay, he found that Caroline intended to hold strong against him. She barely let him kiss her hand and never offered him any other kind of intimacy. Though he had once believed he could bring her around to loving him as he so desperately loved her, their marriage was nothing but a sham.
A sham which would soon be over since their two year claiming period was almost up. At that time, Caroline could choose to stay with him…or to divorce him and find another man, more suited to her taste.
Richard had no illusions whatever of which her choice would be.
He wanted to hate her as he walked into the room—for their failed relationship, for the way she taunted and teased him and refused to even give him even a chance to make her love him. But when he saw her sitting up in the bed with her best peignoir, the same one she had worn on their Joining night, with her hair down around her shoulders like a child, he couldn’t bring himself to give in to the bitter emotion.
Why in the Seven Hells did she have to look so beautiful, damn it? The newly built-up fire cast a rosy glow on her lovely face and her hair shone like red-gold, spread across her shoulders in its natural curls.
For a moment, he remembered the terrible vision he’d had—Caroline lying on her back, her face blackened and burned, her tongue protruding and her eyes…
No! He pushed the image violently away. He would not dwell on such a gruesome thought. Surely it had been only a dream—a terror that his mind had showed him when he feared the worst. For here was his wife, lovely as ever and quite composed, sitting up in her bed and waiting for him to examine her just as though she were any other patient he might come to see.
Or maybe not quite so composed as she might be. He noticed that her slim white fingers were twisted tightly in the coverlet and her lush mouth was set in a tense line. Did she fear him? Fear letting him examine her? For the Goddess’s sake, he had never given her cause for such emotion! Had he not always been gentle with her? Hadn’t he always respected her boundaries and never once forced unwelcome attentions on her?
Well, other than pressing her to Join with you in the first place, whispered a little voice in his head. You should have listened to her then, when she professed that she did not love you and was certain she never could. You might have saved the both of you two years of agony and grief.
But
he had been so certain she was the one for him—the female the Goddess intended for his mate. So certain that he could woo her gently and bring her gradually to care for him.
What a fool I was, he told himself as he approached his wife, sitting so primly in bed. What a Goddess-damned bloody fool to think I could make her return my love.
“How are you feeling?” he said aloud, settling on the side of the bed and taking care that his true emotions should not show on his face.
“Oh…pretty well, I guess. Considering,” she said. Her voice trembled a little but she kept her chin lifted, showing the spirit that he had always admired in her.
“Considering you were struck by lightning not three quarters of an hour ago, you mean. Given the circumstances, I’d say you look quite well,” he told her. “But I must have a look at you anyway. Do you have pain anywhere?”
“No—not at all,” she said quickly.
“Nonetheless, I must insist on examining you.” He shifted closer to her and Caroline pulled back, fear filling her brown eyes.
Goddess damn it—this was the worst of it, Richard thought bitterly. That she still didn’t trust him after all this time. That she still thought he might outrage her in some way, though he had never given her cause to think ill of him.
“Please bear with me,” he said dryly, striving to keep his face blank and professional. “I know you find my touch repugnant but I fear I must touch you—it is necessary. I swear I will make it brief.”
“Oh, I never said…never thought…” Her words faltered to a halt when he lifted her long, curly locks and examined the tender white column of her throat.
Richard had heard of those who’d been struck by lightning and survived actually bearing the marks of it on their skin—jagged lines that ran down the flesh and looked very like the bolts that had struck them in the first place. But though he looked carefully, running his fingers gently over the sides and back of her throat, he could not find a single line that marred her pale flesh.
Caroline shivered as he touched her, nervous as a horse being bitten by a stinging fly, he thought.
“Forgive me,” he said in a businesslike tone. “I will not be long—I’m only ascertaining that the lightning didn’t mark or wound you in any way.”
“It…it’s all right.” Her voice had a strange, breathless quality Richard had not heard before. He looked at her quizzically and saw that her pupils were wide, the black almost swallowing the warm brown of her irises as she looked up at him. Her cheeks were flushed with a rosy glow and her breathing had quickened somewhat.
“Are you well, Caroline?” he asked, rather concerned. He cupped her softly rounded cheek in his hand without thinking, trying to see if she was fevered.
To his surprise, instead of pulling away from his touch, she leaned into it, nestling against his palm as though she was a cat who loved to be stroked.
“I…I think so,” she whispered.
“You are a little flushed.” Richard was still concerned. She had never willingly been so close to him before for such a period of time. It was very unlike her and yet…very pleasant. “Would you allow me to lower the shoulders of your peignoir to ascertain that your back is unmarked?” he asked gently, wondering how long this could possibly last. “I will not look at your breasts if you wish me not to—unless there is something you feel I should see.”
“That…I guess that would be okay,” she murmured.
He frowned. “’Okay?’ Since when do you use street slang, Caroline?”
Her eyes widened. “All right—I meant that would be all right,” she said quickly. “I’m sorry if I, uh, misspoke.”
Her obvious distress made him wonder what she could be thinking. Mary Ann had been correct in saying that Caroline was speaking strangely. He remembered her agitation and desperation to go back in the park, despite the drenching rain. The lightning strike must have disordered her thoughts in some way.
“It’s all right,” he reassured her gently, not liking the frightened look in her eyes. “Just let me finish examining you and then we’ll talk more about your speech.”
“That’s fine.” She lifted her hair out of the way and submitted to letting him pull the shoulders of her peignoir down. Beneath the diaphanous material, Richard could see the tight points of her nipples but he tried not to look. She had made it clear often enough to him that part of her body was off limits, as well as the secret garden between her legs. Desirable though it was, it was not for him.
He felt carefully, gently, down the length of her spine, letting his fingers caress her soft, smooth flesh as he examined her for any markings or injuries. He found none but once more, Caroline shivered at his touch.
“Forgive me,” Richard told her. “I am almost done.”
“I don’t mind,” she said, surprising him excessively. “You’re so gentle…so slow. And your hands are so warm.”
“How could I be other than gentle with my own wife?” he asked.
Though in the past, Caroline would have balked at this reminder of their Joined status, this time she only nodded.
“Thank you,” she whispered. “You can…can examine me other places. If…if you want to.”
Richard frowned, not understanding her.
“Do you mean…do you think the lightning wounded you elsewhere?” he asked. He hadn’t seen any obvious marks on her body back at the park, when she’d suddenly been naked before him. But he had been so desperately afraid for her, he hadn’t noticed anything but that she was still alive. “Do you think it might have marked your breasts?” he asked.
“Maybe.” She bit her lush lower lip, a gesture he found most erotic.
“Perhaps you ought to lower your peignoir to your waist so I could ascertain that you are quite unwounded,” he suggested, wondering if she would agree to it. In the past, she would have slapped his face for such a suggestion—or at least refused in her haughtiest tones, telling him he was her husband in name only and had no rights to her flesh. But now, much to his surprise, she nodded almost at once.
“If…if you think I should, all right.” Carefully, she untied the ribbon which held the front of the silky garment closed and allowed the top of the peignoir to drop down until it pooled around her waist.
Though he tried to look at her with a professional eye, Richard was unable to help sucking in a breath at the beauty of her full breasts. They were just as he had imagined they would be—plump and pretty with softly pouting nipples the same rosy pink as her lips.
“May I…” He had to stop and clear his throat. “May I have your permission to touch you, Caroline?”
“Yes.” She nodded, her eyes drowning deep in the firelight. “Yes, Richard. Go…go ahead. It’s all right.”
Gently but firmly, he ran his hands down her sides, his thumbs barely brushing the curves of her naked breasts.
Caroline’s breath hitched in her throat but she didn’t pull away from his touch. Feeling emboldened and telling himself he only wanted to be thorough, Richard allowed his hands to travel lower, brushing over her abdomen and then coming back up to cradle the heavy globes of her breasts in his hands. He lifted them gently, looking at the undersides but she was unmarked.
“You seem unharmed,” he remarked, but didn’t move his hands. He liked the feel of her filling his palms too much, though he knew he should not encroach.
“Touch me,” she whispered and there was a soft, breathless note in her voice he had never heard before.
“I…should not,” he objected thickly. “Though you are my wife, you have never allowed me such liberties before. I should not take advantage of your altered state of mind.”
“Please.” She pressed forward, pushing her breasts more fully into his hands. Somehow Richard found that his thumbs were circling the tight points of her nipples—slowly, gently…a barely-there caress that caused Caroline to moan and shift restlessly in the bed.
“I…I’ve never felt like this before…like I do when you touch me, I mean,” she whispe
red. “I’ve never felt like this for anyone. Why is that?”
Richard wanted to tell her it was because they were meant for each other but he had said as much many, many times in the past and she had always denied it. Then a warm, feminine scent drifted to his nose—the scent of her arousal—and all thoughts of what he must or must not say were driven from his head.
In his upper jaw, he felt a sudden pain just where a human man would have his canine teeth. A pain accompanied by a rush of desire that he had never felt before—not even for Caroline. It hardened his shaft and set him afire with need.
“Oh…” Her soft exclamation drew his eyes to her face and he saw that she was looking at him in wonder. “You’re a Blood Kindred,” she whispered, reaching up to cup his cheek in her small, soft hand.
“I…I am.” He spoke with some difficulty because of his newly grown fangs. Gods, why were they coming out now? A Blood Kindred’s fangs weren’t supposed to sharpen until he found the female he wanted to make his bride and spend his life with. But he had been in love with Caroline for years—so why now?
Maybe because I never scented her arousal before, he thought. But it was difficult to keep any coherent thought in his head when she was looking at him like that…and touching him of her own volition for the first time.
He wanted to rub against her soft hand like a cat, wanted to lean forward and taste those sweet lips which he had kissed only once—a cool, dry kiss on their Joining day. Yet now he wanted to feast on them, to explore her and taste her and know her as a man knows a woman. He longed to suck her nipples too—the ripe tips throbbing beneath his fingers seemed to cry out to be sucked—he longed to draw them into his mouth and hear Caroline moan in pleasure as he lapped them with his tongue.
“Now, I see,” she whispered, breaking his lustful train of thought. “I didn’t recognize you without the fangs but now I know…I dreamed of you. That’s why I feel like I know you!”
“You…dreamed of me?” He looked at her uncertainly. “But…you have always denied Dream Sharing with me in the past.”
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