Just One Touch

by Debra Mullins

  Well, mostly.

  There was one part of him that seemed to be very definitely awake, if the hard ridge pressing against her buttocks was any indication.

  Panic rose, and she quivered like a rabbit caught in a snare. What if he awoke? What if he—

  She jerked her thoughts to a halt, heart thundering, breathing shaky. She had spent the night in Rogan’s arms, and he had not taken advantage of the fact. She needed to cling to that simple truth.

  Once more she tried to slip out of his hold, but he groaned and buried his face in her neck even as his hand slid upward from her stomach. He cupped her breast through her nightgown, teasing her nipple with his thumb, sending an unexpected wave of pleasure through her.

  Dear God, now what?

  “Rogan.” She tried to jab him with her elbow, but the dead weight of his arm made such a move impossible.

  He pinched her nipple between his fingers, then gently squeezed her breast in his big hand and shifted his hips so his hard erection pressed into her bottom. Her breathing hitched. Her heart pounded in her ears. Need rose like a flame, burning through her limbs with undeniable demand. Her reaction startled her. Scared her with its intensity.

  “Rogan, stop.” Flooded with mind-spinning desire, she struggled to pull away. “Please.”

  He muttered something in his sleep and nuzzled her neck, his fingers tracing her pliant flesh with experienced skill.

  She closed her eyes as hot pleasure swept over her. What was happening to her? How could she feel so good and yet be so afraid? What kind of woman did that make her?

  “No!” She grabbed his thumb, jerked it backward.

  He gave a bellow and yanked his hand away. “What the—Bloody hell!” He rolled out of the bed and stood for a moment with his back to her as he adjusted his robe.

  Slowly she sat up in the bed, clenching the covers around her. “You were asleep,” she whispered.

  He bowed his head, his shoulders tense. “I’m sorry. Did I scare you?”

  “A little.” Her heartbeat slowed. “You didn’t know what you were doing.”

  He gave a hard laugh. “Part of me did.”

  She didn’t know how to answer that, so she said nothing. He clasped his hands behind his head and took several deep breaths, clearly trying to get his unruly body under control. As she watched him struggle, she gathered her courage. “Does that happen a lot?” she asked quietly.

  “Does what happen a lot?” He lowered his arms and shook them out.

  “That.” She could barely get the words out, and she knew her face burned with embarrassment. She knew much about horses but nothing about men. And she knew he would tell her the truth. “Your…er…male part.”

  He spun around to face her, astonishment plain on his face. “Did you just ask me what I think you asked me?”

  “Dear Lord, don’t make me say it again.” She hid her flaming cheeks in the rumpled sheets.

  “No, it’s all right.” She felt the bed dip as he sat on the edge of it; then he tugged the sheet away from her face. “Caroline, I don’t mind your curiosity.”

  “Pretend I said nothing.”

  He stopped her when she would have ducked beneath the covers again. Taking her chin in his hand, he turned her head so their eyes met. “It’s a natural condition for a man in the morning.”

  “Oh.” Even as she took comfort in the fact that he hadn’t been trying to take liberties, a curious sense of disappointment flickered through her. “Then it wasn’t something I did.”

  “No.” He smiled reassuringly.

  She pulled away from him and slid off the opposite side of the bed. She kept her back to him for a moment and ran a hand through her tangled hair as she collected herself.

  “Caroline, are you all right?”

  “Of course.” She turned and gave him a smile. “Thank you for answering my question.”

  He stood slowly, eyeing her with concern. “What’s the matter?”

  Afraid he would see the confusion in her eyes, she glanced toward the sunlight streaming through the window. “It’s morning. Did you have plans today?”

  “Never mind my social calendar. Something’s bothering you.” He came around to her side of the bed.

  She turned away before he could reach her and headed for the door. “I think I’d like to ride this morning, so I’ll just go see if Marie—”

  His fingers closed over hers on the door latch. “Tell me what’s wrong, love.”

  Her heart lurched. He’d used the endearment before, but after last night, it seemed to mean more. God help her, was she besotted?

  “Nothing’s wrong.” Gathering her courage, she stood on tiptoe and gave him a wifely peck on the cheek. “I assume you have a suitable mount for me?”

  He frowned at her but didn’t push the matter. “Your father sent Destiny over last night.”

  “Lovely. I’ll see to breakfast then.” With a falsely cheerful smile, she darted into her room and closed the door, leaving him staring after her.

  With the horse thundering beneath him and the wind whipping through his hair, Rogan finally felt somewhat normal as he rode across the fields with his new bride. He let Hephaestus have his head, the landscape whooshing by in a blur of green trees and grass. Destiny kept pace with Rogan’s black stallion, and Caroline threw back her head and laughed with pure joy as they galloped hell-for-leather.

  Rogan glanced over at the happy sound, entranced by the vitality of his young wife’s face. Her brown eyes sparkled with happiness, her cheeks flushed from the vigorous exercise. A skilled horsewoman in her own right, she moved easily with the pace of the animal, unafraid of what lay ahead.

  She’d never looked more beautiful. Or more desirable.

  They galloped over the rise and headed for the main road that led to town. They had no particular destination in mind, just enjoyed being together. As their horses’ hooves touched the road, an equine shriek split the air. Hephaestus tossed his head and lost his even gait for a moment, shuffling in agitation in response to the unknown horse’s scream. Destiny reacted in similar fashion, prancing backward and forward in indecision, ears flickering, tossing her head in distress.

  The high-pitched screech came again. Caroline glanced at him, and Rogan nodded his head. In unison, they both spurred their mounts forward in the direction of the unfortunate animal.

  Minutes later they came upon a scene that horrified both of them. A fellow—gentry from the look of him—stood at the side of the road. He had tied his mount to a tree and was beating the animal with vicious cuts of his crop. The horse shrieked again, trying to free its head, which was trapped low to the ground so it couldn’t see what its owner was doing. Blood flecked the horse’s fine gray coat.

  Caroline pulled up on Destiny, frozen by the torture the man inflicted on the animal. Rogan rode up practically on top of the man, then slid off Hephaestus before the horse had even come to a stop. As the black pranced out of the way, Rogan reached out and grabbed the abuser’s wrist with one hand while wresting the crop away with the other.

  “What the devil do you think you’re doing?” the unknown man demanded, whirling to face Rogan. “Give me back my crop immediately!”

  Rogan grabbed the man one-handed by the throat and slammed him against a tree, the crop clenched in his other hand. “Only if I use it on you first.”

  “Rogan!” Caroline cried.

  “Are you mad?” the fellow croaked.

  “You’re the madman, beating a helpless animal like that.” Rogan slapped the crop against the tree, inches from the man’s face. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t do the same to you.”

  “No! Stop!” Freed from her shock, Caroline quickly dismounted and rushed over. “Rogan, let him go!”

  “Not until he answers my question.” His eyes glittering with anger, he shoved his face close to the stranger’s. “Come now, give me one good reason why I shouldn’t take this crop”—he slapped it against the tree again, making the fellow flinch—�
��to you.”

  The man tried to answer, but apparently couldn’t get the words past the fingers clenched around his throat. His face was turning an alarming shade of red, and he clawed fruitlessly at Rogan’s hand.

  Caroline slipped around so she could see her husband’s face. The rage in his eyes scared her right down to her toes, and her heart pounded so loudly she thought he could hear it. “Rogan, please let him go.”

  “Did you see what he was doing to that animal?” he demanded, his voice low and feral.

  “I see what you’re doing to him.” She reached out a shaking hand and stroked it down his sleeve, poised to flee should he turn his fury on her. “Please, Rogan. For me.”

  He flicked her a sidelong glance, then suddenly flung the man away from him. The fellow staggered away from the tree, coughing.

  “I’ll check on the mare.” Rogan stalked toward the horse.

  Caroline took a moment to breathe deeply, closing her eyes and willing her pulse to return to normal. Her heart thundered and her hands shook, and she was certain her knees would give out at any moment. But she’d managed to divert Rogan’s attention, and that was all that mattered.

  She would think about the consequences later.

  A sound behind her reminded her they weren’t alone. She turned to face the horse’s abuser. “Are you all right?”

  “He’s insane.” Still choking, the fellow thrust a finger in Rogan’s direction. “I’ve half a mind to report him to the magistrate.”

  “Then report yourself as well,” Caroline retorted. “Only a monster would beat a horse like that.”

  The fellow stiffened, his eyes narrowing. “Madame, you have cheek, I’ll grant you! Your husband just assaulted me, and yet you call me a monster?”

  “My husband doesn’t abuse helpless animals.”

  “No, just his fellow man.” The stranger gave her an arrogant look down his thin, pointy nose. “Might I inquire as to your name, madame?”

  “I am Lady Caroline Hunt, daughter of the Duke of Belvingham,” she replied in her haughtiest voice.

  The fellow paled. “Belvingham’s daughter?” he whispered.

  “Not to mention my wife,” Rogan growled, walking back toward them. “See that you keep a civil tongue in your head.”

  Caroline turned and placed herself between her husband and the stranger. “Calm down, Rogan. Raging is not going to settle this matter.”

  He flashed a lethal, white-toothed smile. “It would settle it for me.” He made to go around her, but Caroline stepped in front of him and planted her hands on his chest.

  He stopped mid-stride and stared down at her fingers against his dark blue coat. “Caroline, get out of the way.”

  “No.” She made herself look into his eyes, those beautiful gray eyes that were currently alight with a wild gleam that made her mouth go dry with anxiety. Her heart started pounding again. “I’m not moving.”

  He lowered his face so their gazes were even. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

  The low tone made her stomach lurch with uncertainty, but she didn’t dare relent. “Then don’t hurt me. Tend to the mare, and let me deal with this gentleman.”

  “The mare won’t let me near her.” He sent a glare over her head. “The blackguard’s traumatized her.”

  The lanky gentleman puffed himself up, but Caroline sent him a look that made him close his mouth before making things worse with an insult. “What do you mean, Rogan?”

  “I mean she won’t let me near her. I can’t see to her injuries. She’s in some kind of shock.” He scowled at the man behind her.

  “She won’t let you near her?” Caroline pursed her lips. “That can’t be good.” She glanced at the stranger. “Mr.—I’m sorry, I don’t believe you introduced yourself.”

  The mare’s owner blinked his watery blue eyes at the change of subject. “I am Mr. Jerome Peterson.”

  “Jerome Peterson,” Rogan repeated slowly, as if committing the name to memory.

  “Did you hear what Rogan said, Mr. Peterson? You’ve so terrorized your mount that she won’t let anyone near her.”

  Peterson’s expression grew sulky. “The bloody animal won’t listen. What else was I supposed to do?”

  Rogan reached around Caroline and prodded the man in the ribs with the crop. “Watch your language in my wife’s presence, Peterson.”

  “Apologies.” Peterson withdrew a handkerchief and wiped his face. “I won this mare in a game of chance, but it’s the worst horse I’ve ever had. It won’t obey any of my commands, don’t you see?”

  “Beating a horse into submission never solved that particular problem,” Rogan snarled. Caroline kept her hands firmly on his chest, and while he made no move to lunge, she could feel his powerful muscles flexing beneath her hands.

  “Oh?” Peterson looked down his nose at Rogan. “And I suppose you are some sort of expert on horse training, sir?”

  “I am Rogan Hunt of Hunt Chase,” Rogan informed him through gritted teeth.

  Peterson paled. “A Hunt of Hunt Chase?” he repeated weakly. “Ah…then you do know something of horses.”

  “Something,” Rogan agreed, tapping the crop against his boot in an impatient rhythm.

  “Now, Rogan.” Caroline moved one hand to his arm, stilling it. “Mr. Peterson, perhaps we can make a bargain.”

  “A bargain?” Peterson repeated.

  “What bargain?” Rogan asked, narrowing his eyes at his bride.

  “Mr. Peterson won this mount in a game of chance, husband, and clearly he is unhappy with the animal. Perhaps we should offer to buy the horse from him. This way he gets his winnings in a form that is more palatable to him…” She sent Peterson a diplomatic smile. “And you and I get another mare for our stables.”

  Peterson’s eyes lit up at the talk of money. “Indeed, I would be most pleased to sell you the animal.”

  Rogan said nothing for a long moment, just glared at Peterson.

  Caroline stroked her hand down his arm, drawing his attention. She tried to smile at him, tried to reach the man she knew lurked behind the fury. “It’s a good solution, Rogan. Please.”

  After a long moment of deliberation, Rogan gave a jerky nod. “I’ll make you an offer, Peterson,” he said with quiet menace. “And I advise that you take it and leave this area with all haste, lest I decide to see how you like the bite of the crop on your flesh.”

  “Come to our home this evening, and we shall settle the account,” Caroline said, once the bargain had been struck. “We are at Riverside, just over the hill. My husband will write you a bank draft.”

  “Indeed,” Rogan agreed, his smile more menacing than polite.

  “Excellent. I’ll be on my way then.” Peterson made as if to approach the gray, but Rogan stepped between him and the wounded animal, Caroline’s hand still on his arm.

  “You’ll not be riding this mount, Peterson.” The gambler’s gaze darted to Hephaestus and Destiny. “And you’ll not be riding any of my horses, either. I would not want them damaged.”

  Outrage twisted the man’s features. “Who are you to—”

  Rogan stepped closer, shrugging off Caroline’s calming hand, and shoved his face near Peterson’s. “You will walk, Peterson. I assure you, you will get your funds. But you will have no further opportunities to harm any more helpless animals.”

  Peterson’s mouth opened and closed, but he finally snapped it shut. Turning on his heel, he marched down the road, spine stiff, the very picture of indignation.

  Rogan watched him leave, then spun back to face Caroline. “Why did you step between us? Have you no sense?”

  Her mouth fell open. “I couldn’t let you kill him!”

  “I wouldn’t have killed him, but he deserves a thrashing for what he did to that horse.”

  Caroline swallowed hard, still shaken by the violence that lurked inside him. “There are other ways to deal with problems without resorting to fisticuffs.”

  “Should I have written him a polit
e note of protest?” Rogan sneered. “Is that how the duke would have handled it?”

  “No, my father would have blistered the man’s ears with a scalding set-down and then exercised his influence to make Mr. Peterson most uncomfortable in his business and social endeavors.”

  “I don’t have any influence,” he pointed out bitterly. “Without our horses, the Hunt name holds no meaning.”

  “Nonetheless, you can’t go about getting into fistfights with everyone who displeases you. Children react, Rogan. Adults think matters through. You’re no child.”

  He stiffened. “I’m aware of that.”

  “Then prove it.” She shook her head, weary and frightened at what the future might hold. “I’ve been married to you for one day, Rogan, and already I wonder if I can live like this.”

  “We have no choice. The deed is done.”

  She met his eyes with a determination she hadn’t felt in a long while. “There’s always a choice.” She turned away, unwilling to argue further. “Now, what were you saying about the mare not letting you near her?”

  A sharp crack had her whirling back. Rogan met her gaze, the crop in his hands snapped in two. Tension nearly choked her, and silence screamed between them. Finally he glanced down at the broken crop, and with a grimace of disgust, he flung the pieces into the woods.

  Caroline dragged in a deep breath, feeling as if she had narrowly avoided some terrible catastrophe. “Rogan?”

  “The mare’s afraid of me.” His attention focused on the animal now, his voice losing some of its angry edge. “She gets agitated when I come near her.”

  “Poor thing,” Caroline murmured. With only a moment’s hesitation, she turned her back on her husband and took a tentative step toward the gray. The horse lifted her head at the movement, flicking her ears as she regarded Caroline. “Rogan, look.”

  “Say something else,” Rogan prompted. But at the sound of his voice, the mare shifted nervously.

  “You poor baby,” Caroline crooned. The gray seemed to calm down, and Caroline took another step forward. “I know you’re scared, but we’ll take care of you now.”

  Caroline maintained eye contact with the mare as she approached, pleased that the animal didn’t back away from her.