“Caroline.” His voice roughened as he said her name. He swallowed hard, then swept his thumb across the palm of her hand. “Do you want to touch me?”
She jerked her gaze to his, stunned by the unbridled hunger she found there. “I don’t know if that would be a good idea.”
He gave a dark chuckle. “I don’t know, either, but I do know that I want you to. I promise not to move.”
She considered the offer. Her palm itched to smooth along the rippling muscles of his chest and abdomen, and before she could think too much about it, she nodded. He guided her hand to his chest, the prickle of hair tickling her palm. His skin felt softer than she’d expected. And it was hot, so hot. Beneath her fingers, his heart beat strongly.
He flattened his hand over hers, holding her there. She accepted the invitation in his eyes and perched on the edge of the bed, incredibly conscious of his naked body only inches away. The bedclothes seemed like an insubstantial barrier; she could feel the heat of his flesh even through the material. Then he cupped his other hand behind her neck and pulled her into his kiss. Her eyes slid closed as she gave herself up to the pleasure of his mouth.
Her head spun when he kissed her. Beneath her hand, his heart thundered. With a little moan, she lost herself in the play of his lips on hers, her body flaring to life like a winter’s fire. She wanted to move closer. Everything inside her screamed to climb into bed with him and let him take her places she’d never been. But she didn’t dare. She couldn’t.
But oh, how she wanted to.
He groaned and reached for her with both hands, cupping her face and deepening the kiss. She thought she’d be scared. But she wasn’t. He wasn’t holding her down or crushing her against him. He just held her face in his hands and kissed her with utter concentration.
She rested both hands flat on his chest and responded to him, driven by a sweet craving she’d never felt before. Her fingers curled into his muscles, raking through the silky pelt with an eagerness that surprised even her. His grunt of pleasure urged her on, and she slid her hands down his torso, glorying in his hard, masculine physique.
“You’re driving me mad,” he muttered. Taking her lower lip between his teeth, he opened his eyes and looked straight into hers, letting her see the desire that burned inside him. Her breath hitched. Before she could panic, he speared his hand through her hair and pulled her into a deeper, intimate, openmouthed kiss.
Her soft moan lodged in her throat as his tongue touched hers, gently probing. He wasn’t demanding, wasn’t trying to possess her. He was asking permission, and she granted it. Lost in the drugging pleasure of his mouth, blind from the delight of his flesh beneath her hands, she responded with all the passion that vibrated through her.
Then her hands slipped down too far, and she encountered something hard and hot and all too familiar.
With a cry, she ripped herself from his arms, nearly fell off the bed as she clambered to her feet.
“Caroline.” Sounding a bit breathless himself, Rogan calmly rearranged the covers with one hand while reaching for her with the other. “It’s all right.”
She shook her head frantically, covering her mouth with her hand as she fought off hysteria.
“Caroline, please.” He swung his legs over the side of the bed, dragging the sheets with him as he sat up. “Don’t let it get hold of you, love. Don’t let the fear take you away from me.”
“I don’t want to, but I can’t help it.” She turned away from him and walked to the hearth. There was no fire burning, as it was early May and still pleasantly comfortable at night. She stared into the sooty emptiness of the cold fireplace, wondering if she would ever be able to live life as a normal woman.
“Maybe we should talk about it.”
“About what? That I can’t touch my own husband without becoming hysterical?” She gave a bitter laugh. “Perhaps you would have been better off with just the horse after all.”
“I wanted you, Caroline,” he admitted softly. “I just don’t think I deserve you.”
“You must be mad.” She turned to face him, her lips trembling as she struggled to hold back her tears. “If anything, you deserve more.”
He gave a deep sigh and raked both hands through his hair. “What a pair we are.”
“Indeed.” She twisted her fingers together, then caught herself doing it and dropped her hands to her sides. “What now?”
“I think we should talk about this. I think the more I know about what happened to you, the better I will be able to help you overcome it.”
“You really think I can overcome this?” She sent him a look of disbelief. “Look at me. It’s our wedding night, and I’m afraid to come near you.”
“You weren’t before.” He gave her an intimate smile. “You like my kisses.”
She looked at him, sin personified as he sat wrapped in nothing but the bedsheets, his muscular chest and shoulders bared for her enjoyment. His hair was tousled from the pillows and from his own impatient fingers, and pure wickedness gleamed in his eyes.
If ever there was a man to tempt a woman, it was he.
“I do like your kisses,” she replied. “I always want more. But it is the ‘more’ that frightens me.”
“Which is why I need to know what happened to you.”
“What about you?” she threw back at him. “What was that about not deserving me? Apparently I am not the only one with something to tell.”
His jaw tightened, but his voice remained gentle. “Caroline, you won’t distract me. If we are to make a go of this marriage, I need to know something of what happened to you. You don’t have to tell me everything right away. Just what you are comfortable with.”
He was right. She knew he was right, but…“I’m afraid,” she whispered.
“Of what?”
“If I talk about it…it brings it all back.” She took a deep breath. “And you may look at me differently. I don’t think I could bear that.”
“It’s not your fault.” He started to stand, then was jerked back by the sheets still tucked into the bed. “Blast it. Would you hand me my robe, love? I think both of us will feel better if I’m not naked while we have this conversation.”
“Of course.” She managed to control her blush as she grabbed his robe from the chair and brought it to him.
He took it from her, his eyes soft with compassion as he looked into her face. “Thank you.”
She could feel the heat from his body even a pace away, and while her mind urged her to back away, her feminine instincts encouraged her to move closer, to touch him. He seemed to sense her thoughts. His gaze settled on her mouth, and his fingers clenched around the thick material of the robe.
“Turn around,” he said hoarsely. “Unless…”
Now nothing could stop the surge of heat that flooded her cheeks. Though he hadn’t finished the sentence, the unmistakable sexual heat between them made words unnecessary. She spun around, presenting him with her back.
Material rustled as he shed the sheet and shrugged into his robe. She imagined him standing naked behind her, tall and muscled and absolutely one of the most attractive men she had ever seen in her life. Then she remembered what had frightened her, how aroused he’d been, and the delicious pleasure curling her stomach turned to churning anxiety. He was behind her. She couldn’t see him. He was naked. He could…
“No!” She whirled to face him, poised to fight or flee.
Clad in his robe, he gave her a puzzled look. “Are you all right?”
Feeling foolish, she could only nod, the frantic emotion subsiding.
“I think we both need a drink.” He moved to the other side of the room and poured two glasses of whiskey. He held one out to her. “Here, drink this—-but slowly. It will settle your nerves.”
She came over to accept the glass and took a tentative sip. The liquor burned her mouth and throat like fire. She choked, holding the glass out to him as her eyes teared. “I don’t think I’ll have any nerves left after that.�
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He chuckled and set the glass on the table, then tossed back his own drink without so much as a ripple of discomfort. “That’s the point.”
She swiped the moisture from her eyes and inhaled deeply. Her breath felt amazingly cool after the heat of the whiskey. “If I’m not calm, at least I’m numb.”
“I know this is hard for you.” He rested his hands gently on her shoulders. She tensed for an instant, but then realized that he left the touch light so that she knew she could move away if she wanted to. “But I can’t avoid hurting you if I don’t know what happened.”
“I know.” She rested her forehead against his broad chest, took comfort from the strong beat of his heart. He swept a soothing hand through her hair. “I’ll tell you what I can.”
Caroline began to pace the room, and Rogan sat down in a nearby chair. He leaned forward, elbows resting loosely on his knees, granting her his full attention.
His intent male focus unnerved her, especially since his current position made the neckline of his robe gap open, granting her a tantalizing view of his bare chest. She looked at the fireplace, at her feet—anything to avoid those shrewd gray eyes. “Where do you want me to start?”
He gave her question a moment’s thought before he replied, “I know you were kidnapped. Tell me how it happened.”
“I was out with my governess. She was escorting me to my friend’s home when the men attacked our carriage.”
“And where did this happen?”
“At Chiverton, one of my father’s estates just outside London.” She shivered, hugging herself as the dark memory swept through her. “Papa told me he would have sold the house after that if it hadn’t been entailed.”
“How many men were there?”
She shrugged, the image of that day still indelibly carved in her mind, bitterly flavored with a young girl’s terror. “Two, three. I’m not certain. More than one.” She took a shaky breath. “One of them shot Miss Sawgrass. Right in front of me.”
“I’m sorry.” He reached out a hand to her, but she shook her head and stepped away.
“I’m all right.” She regained control and continued with her story, still not looking at him. “Someone put a sack over my head, and they tied me up. Then one of them put me on a horse and rode behind me. It seemed like we rode forever.”
“And then what happened?”
She shrugged. “They tied me up and sent Papa a ransom note.”
“Caroline.” His chiding tone grated.
“What?” She spun to face him, knowing that he knew there was more to it. That it hadn’t really been as simple as that. And she hated that he knew, that he would make her put words to what they had done to her. “That’s what happened. They locked me in a closet, so now I’m afraid of the dark. They murdered my governess in front of my eyes, so I did whatever they told me. Anything they told me.”
He stood, never taking his gaze from her face. “Anyone would have done the same. They were ruthless men, Caroline.”
“Well then.” For some reason her breath was coming in pants, and her heart pounded as if she’d run for miles. When he stepped toward her, she turned away, not wanting him to touch her. To look at her.
“There’s more to the story,” he said quietly.
Her muscles tensed. She crossed her arms tightly as if she would hold back the scream that threatened to burst from her chest. “Bow Street found me, and Papa came to get me. He saw to it that the men were sent to prison for their crime.”
“Prison?” His eyes grew cold. “I would have killed the bastards with my own two hands.”
She glanced back at him, startled that his thoughts so closely echoed hers. “I wish you had been there then.”
He clenched his fists and moved away. “Tell me the rest.”
Her throat closed up. “I can’t.”
He spun back, his eyes fierce. “You must.”
“No.” She swept both hands through her hair, clenched it tightly between her fingers before letting it fall around her shoulders again. “Don’t ask it of me.”
“Damn it, Caroline!” He hurled his whiskey glass into the empty grate. She flinched as it shattered. “Are you so much a coward? Are you going to let them win?”
“Coward?” She stared at him in stunned disbelief. “How can you call me that? I’m still alive, am I not? They didn’t kill me. They didn’t best me because I did everything they wanted, and that’s why I’m still alive.”
“Are you?” He raked a contemptuous gaze over her, his lip curling in a sneer. “You exist, Caroline, but you don’t live.”
His words struck like a blow to the chest. Her breathing hitched as raw emotion roared into a blazing inferno. “You know nothing about it.”
He stepped closer, thrusting his face near hers. “Then tell me.”
“What do you want me to tell you?” She shoved at his chest with both hands, sending him back a pace. “Shall I tell you how they touched me? The disgusting things they said?”
“Yes.” Unfazed by her outburst, he watched her, the ferocity fading from his expression.
She took a deep, shuddering breath. “They gloated in detail about the things they wanted to do to me. Fondled themselves while they talked. One man even…he showed me his male part.” Revulsion rippled through her.
“Caroline.” He reached for her, his voice gentle, his eyes softening with compassion.
She slapped his hand away. “Don’t touch me. Shall I tell you more? Would you like to hear the details?”
“That’s enough for now.”
The tenderness in his voice splintered her control. The words tumbled from her lips, shrill and defiant. “That one man, he used to do things to me when the others weren’t looking. Grab my bottom, pinch my bosom. One day he held me down, touched me. Made me touch him…made me tell him how much I liked it. And I did it. He threatened to kill me if I didn’t.”
“Did he hurt you?”
“You mean did he force himself on me?” She gave a little laugh made harsh by hysteria. “They stopped him. But if you’re keeping a list, Rogan, add ‘Don’t hold down Caroline’ to it.”
“Stop,” he whispered. The distress in his eyes nearly made her knees buckle.
But she couldn’t stop.
“You wanted to know, Rogan, and I’m telling you.” She came closer to him, driven by some violent emotion that she couldn’t even name. “In their sick little game, they told me how to please a man. Made me repeat the instructions until I was physically sick. It meant I got to live.” She slid her hand beneath his robe and caressed his chest. “I can show you what I learned.”
He closed his fingers around hers and gently moved her hand away. “Don’t, Caroline. It’s all right.”
“It’s not all right!” She jerked her hand from his. “Nothing they did was all right!”
“I know.” He tried to gather her close, but she resisted.
“They broke me. They turned me into a whore.” She curled her hand into a fist against his chest.
“You’re not a whore.”
“Why did they do that, Rogan?” Tears spilled down her cheeks, and she pounded her fist against his shoulder. “Why?”
“They were evil men.” He tried again to gather her into his arms, but she shoved him away.
“You don’t understand. You can’t understand how helpless—” A deep wrenching sob shook her, and she clung to him, gripping his robe in her fists. “I don’t want to remember,” she whimpered.
Rogan squeezed his eyes shut, torn to pieces by her pain. He cuddled her close, keeping his hold loose enough that she knew she could walk away at any time, yet tight enough that she didn’t crumple to the floor. He stroked her hair with a hand that trembled. “Shhh. It’s all right.”
Her only answer was another of those gut-ripping sobs.
He didn’t know what to do for her. Yes, he’d been harsh in an effort to get her to face her fear. But he hadn’t expected this. Never this.
He cradled h
er in his arms, torn between the need to console her and the rage that burned inside him. How could anyone have ever done such a thing to someone so pure of heart, so innocent? He wanted to track the men down and kill them all personally. Painfully.
Caroline made a soft sound of protest and shifted in his arms. He realized he was squeezing her too tightly and immediately loosened his hold. She settled against him again, limp as a dishrag, the emotional storm spent for the moment.
For both of them.
He glanced around the room, looking for someplace to sit. They couldn’t just stand in the middle of the room indefinitely. His gaze settled on the bed, and he hesitated for a moment. Then he made the decision and scooped her into his arms.
She didn’t protest. If anything, she cuddled closer to him, even when he sat on the bed and settled back against the pillows with her on his lap. He stroked her hair and murmured soothing nonsense in her ear, and she snuggled into him, one hand against his chest and the other curled beneath her cheek. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, then leaned his head back and closed his eyes.
Sleep claimed them, bringing peace at last.
Chapter 8
Caroline came awake slowly, conscious of the toasty comfort of the bed and a feeling of being well rested and safe. She shifted, stretching her limbs lazily, and only then realizing that she wasn’t alone in the bed.
She stilled, her senses coming instantly alert. A large, warm body lay snugly against her back, curved against hers as if they were two spoons in a drawer. The heavy weight of a male arm rested around her waist, and a large hand splayed over her abdomen. The spicy scent of a man’s cologne tickled her nose even as she became aware of the steady rise and fall of his chest against her back.
She had slept in Rogan’s arms the entire night.
She shifted, inch by inch, trying to slide out from underneath his arm. He grunted in his sleep, tightening his grip around her and pulling her back against him even more closely than before. His warm breath played across her neck, and his fingers flexed on her belly before he settled back into sleep.
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