She turned. Through her veil he could just make out flashing eyes and a small nose with delicately flaring nostrils.
"I assure you, Major Cain, I'm not here to scout for a husband. You have an elevated opinion of yourself."
"Do I?" He moved closer. His legs brushed her skirt.
Kit wanted to step back, but she held her ground. He was a predator, and like all predators, he fed off the weakness of others. Even the smallest retreat would be a victory for him, and she wouldn't show him any vulnerability. At the same time, his nearness made her feel slightly dizzy. The sensation should have been unpleasant, but it wasn't.
"Tell me, mystery lady. What else would a respectable young woman be doing visiting a man by herself?" His voice was deep and teasing, and his gray eyes glimmered with a devilry that made her blood rush faster. "Or is it possible that the respectable young lady isn't as respectable as she seems to be?"
Kit drew up her chin and met his gaze. "Don't judge others by your own standards."
It she'd only known, her unspoken challenge stirred him more than anything else could have. Were those eyes behind the honeycombed veil blue or a darker, more exotic color? Everything about this woman intrigued him. She was no simpering coquette or hothouse orchid. Rather, she reminded him of a wild rose, growing tangled and unruly in the deepest part of the woods, a wild rose with prickly thorns ready to draw blood from any man who touched her.
The untamed part of him responded to the same quality he sensed in her. What would it be like to work his way past those thorns and pluck this wild rose of the deep wood?
Even before he moved, Kit understood that something was about to happen. She wanted to break away, but her legs wouldn't respond. As she gazed up into that chiseled face, she tried to remember this man was her deadly enemy. He controlled everything that was dear to her: her home, her future, her very freedom. But she'd always been a creature of instinct, and her blood had begun to roar so loudly in her head that it was blotting out her reason.
Slowly Cain lifted his scarred hand and cupped the side of her neck. His touch was surprisingly gentle and maddeningly exciting. She knew she had to pull back, but her legs, along with her will, refused to obey.
He lifted his thumb and slid it upward along the curve of her jaw and under the edge of the honeycombed veil. It dipped into the valley behind the lobe of her ear. He caressed the silky hollow, sending quivers coursing through her.
He brushed the delicate shells of her ears and the tendrils of curl that feathered around her small jet ear-bob. His quiet breathing rippled the bottom edge of her veil. She tried to move away, but she was paralyzed. Then he lowered his lips.
His kiss was gentle and persuading, nothing at all like the wet, grinding assault from Hamilton Woodward's friend. Her hands lifted of their own accord and clasped his sides. The feel of warm-muscled flesh through the thin material of his shirt became part of the kiss. She lost herself in a swelling sea of sensation.
His lips opened and began to move over her closed ones. He curved his hand along the delicate line of her spine to the small of her back. The narrow space between their bodies disappeared.
Her head swam as his chest pressed her breasts, and his hips settled against the flatness of her stomach. The moist tip of his tongue began its gentle sorcery, sliding leisurely between her lips.
The shocking intimacy inflamed her. A wild rush of hot sensation poured through every part of her body.
And through his.
They lost their identities. For Kit, Cain no longer had a name. He was the quintessential man, fierce and demanding. And for Cain, the mysterious veiled creature in his arms was everything that a woman should be… but never was.
He grew impatient. His tongue began to probe more deeply, determined to slip past the barrier of her teeth and gain full access to the sweet interior of her mouth.
The unaccustomed aggression brought a flicker of sanity to Kit's fevered mind. Something was wrong…
He brushed the side of her breast, and reality returned in a cold, condemning rush. She made a muffled sound and sprang back.
Cain was more shaken than he cared to admit. He'd found the thorns of his wild rose much too soon.
She stood before him, breasts heaving, hands balled into fists. With a pessimistic certainty that the rest of her face could never live up to the promise of her mouth, he reached out and pushed the veil up onto the brim of her hat.
Recognition didn't come instantly. Maybe it was because he took in the separate features of her face instead of the whole. He saw the smooth, intelligent forehead, the thick, dark slashes of eyebrows, the heavily lashed violet eyes, the determined chin. All of it, together with that wild-rose mouth from which he'd drunk so deeply, spoke of a vivid, unconventional beauty.
Then he felt an uneasiness, a nagging sense of familiarity, a hint of something unpleasant lurking on the other side of his memory. He watched the nostrils of her small, straight nose quiver like the wings of a hummingbird. She set her jaw and lifted her chin.
In that instant, he knew her.
Kit saw his pale gray irises rim with black, but she was too stricken by what had passed between them to step away. What had happened to her? This man was her mortal enemy. How could she have forgotten that? She felt sick, angry, and more confused than she'd ever been.
A disturbance came from the hallway-a series of rapid clicks, as if a sack of parched corn was being spilled on the wooden floor. A streak of black-and-white fur darted into the room, then skidded to a stop. Merlin.
The dog cocked his head to study her, but it didn't take him nearly as long to guess her identity as it had Cain. With three barks of recognition, he raced over to greet his old friend.
Kit fell to her knees. Oblivious to the damage his dusty paws were inflicting on her dove-gray traveling dress, she hugged him and let him lap her face. Her hat fell to the carpet, loosening her carefully arranged hair, but she didn't care.
Cain's voice intruded on their reunion like a polar wind over a glacier. "I see finishing school hasn't improved you. You're still the same headstrong little brat you were three years ago."
Kit looked up at him and said the first thing that came to mind. "You're just mad because the dog's smarter than you are."
8
Not long after Cain had stalked out of the sitting room, Kit heard a familiar voice. "Lucy, did you let that dog in the house again?"
"He slipped past me, Miz Sophronia."
"Well, he won't slip past me!"
Kit smiled as she heard the approach of brisk, efficient footsteps. She hugged Merlin and whispered, "I won't let her get you."
Sophronia swept into the room, then drew to a sudden halt. "Oh, I'm sorry. Lucy didn't say we had a visitor."
Kit looked up and gave her a mischievous grin.
"Kit!" Sophronia's hand flew to her mouth. "Lord! Is it really you?"
With a laugh, Kit sprang to her feet and raced toward her. "It's me, all right."
The women hugged each other while Merlin circled them, barking at their skirts.
"It's so good to see you. Oh, Sophronia, you're even more beautiful than I remember."
"Me! Look at you. You look like you just stepped out of Godey's Lady's Book."
"It's all Elsbeth's doing." Kit laughed again and grabbed Sophronia's hand. They sank down on the settee, where they tried to catch up on three years of separation.
Kit knew it was her fault their correspondence had been so infrequent. Sophronia didn't like to write letters, and the few she'd sent were so full of praise for what Cain was doing at Risen Glory that Kit's replies had been scathing. Finally Sophronia had stopped writing.
Kit remembered her earlier agitation over all the improvements Sophronia had made to the house. Now that seemed petty, and she praised her for everything she'd done.
Sophronia drank in Kit's words. She knew the old house was shining under her care, and she was proud of her accomplishments. At the same time, she began to feel the
familiar combination of love and resentment that always plagued her where Kit was concerned.
For so long, Sophronia had been the only one watching out for Kit. Now Kit was a woman with friendships and experiences Sophronia couldn't share. She was also beautiful, poised, and at home in a world Sophronia would never enter.
The old hurts began to throb.
"Don't think because you're home now you can start stickin' your nose in my business and tellin' me how to run this house."
Kit merely chuckled. "I wouldn't think of it. All I care about is the land. The fields. I can't wait to see everything."
Sophronia's resentment faded and worry took its place. Putting the major and Kit under the same roof was going to lead to trouble.
Rosemary Weston's old bedroom had been redecorated in blush pink and soft moss green. It reminded Kit of the inside of a ripe watermelon, close to the bottom where the pink meat joined the pale iridescence of the rind. She was glad the cool, pretty room would be hers, even though it was second-best to the bedroom Cain occupied. The fact that both shared a common sitting room made her uneasy, but at least it would allow her to keep a closer watch on him.
How could she have let him kiss her like that? The question she'd been trying to avoid asking felt like a fist in her stomach. True, she'd pushed him away, but not before he'd thoroughly kissed her. If it had been Brandon Parsell, she could have understood, but how could she have done such a thing with Baron Cain?
She remembered Mrs. Templeton's lecture on Eve's Shame. Surely only an unnatural woman would abandon herself like that with her most bitter enemy. Maybe there was something wrong with her.
Nonsense. She'd merely been exhausted from the trip, and Miss Dolly's chatter was enough to drive anyone into doing something irrational.
Determined not to think of it again, she stripped off her dress and stood in chemise and petticoat to freshen up at the washstand. Bathing was her favorite luxury. She could hardly believe she'd once hated it so. What a silly child she'd been. Silly about everything except her hatred for Cain.
She cursed softly under her breath, a habit even Elsbeth hadn't been able to stop. Before Cain had stormed out of the sitting room, he'd ordered her to meet him in the library after dinner. She wasn't looking forward to the interview. At the same time, he needed to understand he was no longer dealing with an immature eighteen-year-old.
Lucy had unpacked her trunks, and for a moment Kit considered throwing on one of her oldest dresses and dashing outside to reacquaint herself with her home. But she had to be downstairs soon, ready to do battle again. Morning would be time enough.
She chose a frock with sprigs of gay blue forget-me-nots scattered over a white background. The skirt was drawn up in soft folds to reveal an underskirt in the same blue as the flowers. Cain had provided a generous clothing allowance, damn his soul, and Kit had a beautiful wardrobe. Much of the thanks went to Elisabeth, who said Kit's taste was too erratic and hadn't trusted her to shop alone. The truth was, unless Elisabeth rode herd, Kit generally grew bored and settled for whatever the shopkeepers placed before her.
Impatiently she pulled out her hairpins. That morning, she'd dressed her hair in the Spanish style, parted in the center and pulled into a simple coil at the nape of her neck. With a few tendrils escaping here and there and her small jet earbobs, the sophisticated style had been perfect for her first encounter with Cain. But she couldn't tolerate the confinement any longer. Now she brushed her hair out until it crackled, then caught it back from her face with the silver filigreed combs Elsbeth had given her. It tumbled in a riot of curls that spilled over her shoulders. After dabbing jasmine scent at her wrists, she was ready to fetch Miss Dolly.
As she knocked at her door, she wondered how her fragile companion would handle sitting at dinner with a Yankee war hero. She knocked a second time, and when there was no response, pushed open the door.
Miss Dolly sat huddled in a rocking chair in the corner of the darkened room. Tears streaked her wrinkled cheeks, and she held the tattered fragment of what had once been a baby-blue handkerchief.
Kit dashed to her side. "Miss Dolly! What's wrong?"
The older woman didn't seem to hear. Kit knelt before her. "Miss Dolly?"
"Hello, darlin'," she said vaguely. "I didn't hear you come in."
"You've been crying." Kit clasped the woman's bird-frail hands. "Tell me what's wrong."
"Nothing, really. Silly memories. Making rag babies with my sisters when we were children. Playin' under the grape arbor. Reminiscence is part of old age."
"You're not old, Miss Dolly. Why, just look at you in your pretty white dress. You look as fresh as a spring day."
"I do try to keep myself pretty," Miss Dolly acknowledged, straightening a little in her chair and making a dab at her wet cheeks. "It's just that sometimes, on days like today, I find myself thinkin' about things that happened a long time ago, and it makes me sad."
"What kind of things?"
Miss Dolly patted Kit's hand. "Now, now, darlin'. You don't want to hear my ramblin's."
"You don't ramble," Kit assured her, even though only a few hours earlier, that very habit had been driving her to distraction.
"You've got a good heart, Katharine Louise. I knew it the moment I set eyes on you. I was so glad when you asked me to accompany you back to South Carolina." Her ribbons dipped as she shook her head. "I didn't like it in the North. Everybody had such loud voices. I don't like Yankees, Katharine. I don't like them at all."
"You're upset about meeting Major Cain, aren't you?" Kit rubbed the back of Miss Dolly's hand. "I shouldn't have brought you here. I was only thinking of myself, not of how it would affect you."
"Now, now. Don't you be blamin' your sweet self for a silly old woman's foolishness."
"I won't let you stay if it's going to make you unhappy."
Miss Dolly's eyes widened in alarm. "But I don't have anywhere else to go!" She pushed herself up from the rocking chair and began to cry again. "Silly foolishness… that's all this is. I'll-I'll just freshen up, and then we'll go right downstairs for dinner. I won't be a minute. Not a… not a minute."
Kit rose and embraced the woman's frail shoulders. "Calm yourself, Miss Dolly. I won't send you away. Not as long as you want to stay with me. I promise."
Hope flickered in her companion's eyes. "You won't send me away?"
"Never." Kit smoothed the puffy white sleeves of Miss Dolly's gown, then gave her powdery cheek a kiss. "Make yourself pretty for dinner."
Miss Dolly glanced nervously toward the hallway that lay beyond the safe haven of her room. "All-all right, darlin'."
"Please don't worry about Major Cain." Kit smiled. "Just pretend you're entertaining General Lee."
After ten minutes of primping, Miss Dolly decided she was ready, but Kit was so happy to see the older woman's spirits restored that she didn't mind the wait. As they descended the stairs, Miss Dolly began fussing over her. "Hold still a minute, darlin'. The overskirt on your pretty dress isn't caught up properly." She clucked her tongue while she adjusted the garment. "I do wish you'd be a little more careful with your appearance. I don't mean to be critical, but you don't always look quite as neat as a young lady should."
"Yes, ma'am." Kit assumed her most docile expression, the one that had never fooled Elvira Templeton but seemed to do the trick with Miss Dolly. At the same time, she made up her mind to murder Baron Cain with her bare hands if he did anything tonight to frighten Miss Dolly.
Just then he came out of the library. He was dressed informally in a pair of black trousers and a white shirt, his hair still damp from his bath. She relished the fact that he was too boorish to dress for dinner, even though he'd known there'd be ladies at the table.
He looked up and saw them coming toward him. Something she couldn't decipher flickered in his eyes.
Her heart began to pound. The memory of that lunatic kiss washed over her. She took a deep breath. The evening that lay ahead would be hard enough. She had
to forget what had happened and keep her wits about her. Cain's appearance was going to terrify Miss Dolly.
She turned to soothe her, only to see the old woman's lips curving in a coquettish smile. Miss Dolly extended one lace-encased hand and made her descent into the hallway as gracefully as a debutante.
"My dear, dear General. I can't tell you what an honor this is for me, sir. You will never know the hours I've spent on my poor knees, prayin' for your safety. Never in my wildest dreams did I ever imagine I'd have the honor of meeting you." She thrust her tiny hand into Cain's large one. "I'm Katharine's chaperone, Dorthea Pinckney Calhoun, of the Columbia Calhouns." And then she dropped a deep curtsy that would have done any Templeton Girl proud.
Cain stared in bewilderment at the top of her frilly cap. She bobbed back up, her head barely coming to his middle shirt button. "If there's anything, anything at all, I can do to make you comfortable during your stay here at Risen Glory, General, you need only ask. From this moment, this very instant, consider me your devoted servant."
Miss Dolly's eyelids batted at him with such alarming speed Kit was afraid she'd blind herself.
Cain turned to Kit for enlightenment, but Kit was mystified. He cleared his throat. "I believe-I'm afraid, madam, that you've made a mistake. I'm not entitled to the rank of general. Indeed, I hold no military office at all now, although some still refer to me by my former rank of major."
Miss Dolly gave a trill of girlish laughter. "Oh, my, my! Silly me! You've caught me like a kitten in the cream." She lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "I forget that you're in disguise. And a very good one it is, I might add. No Yankee spy could ever recognize you, although it's a shame you had to shave off your beard. I do admire beards."
Cain's patience snapped and he turned on Kit. "What's she talking about?"
Miss Dolly pressed her fingers to his arm. "Now, now, no need to fret. I promise when we're in company I'll be very discreet, and only address you as Major, dear General."
Cain's voice sounded a warning. "Kit…"
Just Imagine aka Risen Glory Page 11