by Desconhecido
Amazingly, his laughter grew louder and his piercing blue eyes glimmered with what she could only determine was something close to licentious. Suddenly she recalled his kisses and she grew even more worried for she hadn’t been able to resist him. But then, she hadn’t known he was a cold-blooded murderer. Actually, she still didn’t know and, if he were, the constables had yet to catch up with him, or hadn’t the proof.
“That woman—” she began.
“I didn’t kill her,” he said, laughter fading. “She was a singer from one of the smaller opera houses in the area, I recently learned.”
“The constables didn’t arrest you then?”
He lifted one eyebrow. “Why, for God’s sake. The woman was there, dead, before either one of us saw her.”
Anger built inside Carrie as she thought how she’d been dragged down to the jailhouse and questioned unmercifully about the woman. “You mean the constables didn’t question you?”
“They did, but they were satisfied and left my castle. Haven’t heard from them since.”
Her eyes went wide. “Your castle?”
He bowed. “Max Dalton of Castle Darkwirth.”
“You’re one of the Duke’s grandsons? One of the triplets?”
She’d heard of him and he had to wonder if that was a good thing or not.
“I am, and yes, I have two brothers.”
Fury flared in her eyes and even in the darkness of the night, Max saw her anger. He kept his expression serious but he nearly laughed outright with her next movement.
She stomped her foot and spat, “Now I know why you weren’t questioned as thoroughly as I, your lordship. The constables had me down at the station for hours, as though I had a part in that woman’s murder!”
“Sorry about that. I did tell them you were innocent and how we met as you stepped out of the tavern.”
“You didn’t tell them that we kissed, did you?”
* * * *
The clouds moved away and the moon appeared, casting a light on her face. He hadn’t forgotten the golden hues in her brown hair, and those big brown eyes now looking myopically at him. Tiny freckles were sprinkled over her small nose. She had a wholesomeness about her, lacking in many women. She was a pretty country girl, meant for him. Her clothing, a modest white blouse tucked into a dark woolen skirt hid all of her, but he’d felt her sweet curves when he’d held her in his arms. She could be dressed in a flour sack as far as he was concerned and be the most beautiful of women.
“Did you?” she asked.
“Did I what?”
“Tell them we were kissing, you dolt.”
He looked at her with astonishment. “Dolt? I beg your pardon. I am a solicitor, not a dolt.”
“Did you tell them!”
“Of course not. That wouldn’t be gentlemanly, now would it?” he bantered. He leaned closer to her and nearly laughed outright when she stepped back from him. Reaching out, he snatched the spectacles off her nose. “You don’t really need these, do you?”
She gasped and her hand shot out but he tucked them in his coat pocket. For some reason, he breathed easier, knowing now she hadn’t had a clear look at him when he’d shifted. She wore spectacles, which meant her vision was far from perfect.
“I do require them, or I certainly wouldn’t be wearing the blasted things,” she protested.
He caught her wide-eyed expression, her teeth worrying her lower lip and he laughed and stepped right up to her. Reaching out, he picked up a long, rich brown tress and murmured, “No, I didn’t tell them how I kissed you in the alley. How I wanted to do much more, and will—very soon. And you don’t require any vision at all for what I have in mind.”
She stepped back. “Are you warning me then?”
He nodded and slid one arm around her waist, pulling her against his chest. “Yes, for all the good it’ll do you.” And then he couldn’t stop himself from kissing her. He gave her time to push away from him as he slowly lowered his lips to hers, realizing, not for the first time, her lack of stature made him have to bend his legs some to reach her tempting, pouty mouth.
She pressed her hands against his shoulders, but he held her even tighter. He was too strong, and he knew she didn’t want him to stop. He could feel it by how her breathing slowed and how her heart raced against him. He groaned against her lips, swept her up off the ground, and pressed her against his groin when she wound her arms around his neck. God, he wanted to take her here, now, and he couldn’t stop himself from moving forward and pressing her back against the nearest tree. With his right hand, he released her, only to lift her leg around his waist.
He ground himself against her, all the while ravishing her with smothering kisses, his tongue probing inside her mouth. She groaned against his lips and he knew she wanted him, too, especially when she lifted her other leg and wound both around his waist. The only thing better would be if they were both unclothed he decided as he grasped her buttocks and pulled her firmly against his throbbing erection.
“Stop.”
He stilled. Could she really have said that one awful word?
Max stopped kissing her and breathed heavily against her neck. “Tell me you didn’t say that…word,” he groaned.
“I did.”
Reluctantly, he released her and she dropped her legs to the ground and backed away from him.
Max frowned and, breathing heavily, managed to ask, “Why?”
“Because we’re in the woods,” she whispered, “and because I’m a good girl.”
“You are, for certain that,” he grunted, and folded his arms with a scowl. “But us making love doesn’t make you a bad girl, Carrie. I know you feel the same way about me as I do about you,” he insisted.
Carrie tilted up her chin, stepped around the tree, putting more distance between them. “You said you’d marry me.”
“Actually, for me, this would be marriage, our consummation.”
She peeked around the tree and stared at him as though he’d lost his mind. “Our…fornicating”, she said bluntly, “…Is the same as marriage to you?”
He shoved his fingers through his hair and said softly, “In my family, yes, it’s the same as if we said our vows before a priest.”
“But it’s not in mine,” she protested. “Where the devil are you from, anyway? Aren’t you the Duke of Freemont’s grandson?
“I am the Duke’s grandson—one of three. You seem to know about us already.” He came around the tree—rather stalked her around it—and she backed away and moved to the next one. “But my father came from the highlands in Scotland.”
“And was he of the peerage as well?”
She kept backing away from him, her eyes darting in every direction, as he moved after her. He paused, wondering why she appeared frightened.
“No, he was from a farm family…like you.”
Truthfully, Max knew little about his paternal family. His maternal grandfather, the Duke, had known little, also. Only that his father, Morgan Dalton, came from Scotland and had farmed the land. To this day, the Duke had no idea how the boys’ father and their mother had met each other, being from different classes.
Carrie scoffed, “You cannot tell me that a Duke’s daughter married a farmer—a commoner.”
Max had learned little about his parents from his grandfather except for one item, one letter delivered to his grandfather and written by his mother; once his father had claimed his mother as his mate, there could never be another. He wondered now whether his mother had been fearful of his father, as Carrie seemed to be of him now. He didn’t want her to be frightened—he wanted her to love him, accept him into her bed and into his life.
“She did. Now stop running from me.”
Pausing, her eyes widened on him. “It won’t?” At the shake of his head and his growing grin, she asked, “Why not?”
“Because I’m bigger than you—faster than you—and you belong to me. It’s really quite simple.”
She sputtered, “Grant it, you are definitely big
ger and faster but how can you be so sure we’re meant to be together?” she asked.
His gaze remained on her, even as she backed away from him. He stayed still, not wanting to use force, just sweet, simple coercion—the right words—to make her come to him.
“I just know,” he finally said. “Only your scent is meant for me—only you are. In time, you will realize what I say is true.”
Tears came to her eyes and she looked around frantically then met his gaze again. “I don’t understand any of this, including your infatuation with me. I’m a simple Irish girl from a farm family, as I said. I am not a lady or of any heritage of consequence while you are a lord.”
“No, not true. I am the second born son. My older brother, Simon, will inherit the dukedom. I work for a living, sweet. I’m like any other man.”
* * * *
No, he was far from any other man Carrie had ever met. Hope tore through her body at his news; Max wasn’t the eldest! Then it probably wouldn’t matter if he married her—a commoner.
Then Carrie wondered why he wanted her—as she said—a commoner of little consequence. Only to play with, she imagined. And fornicating, to his mind, would be the same as marriage? Hardly! Not until they stood before her priest would she spend a single moment in his bed.
Nodding staunchly, she said, “I expect a normal courting, for an appropriate amount of time. I deserve that at least.”
Max presented a courtly bow and grinned as he straightened. “Of course you do, and you will have it, but we must consummate our union first.”
Carrie was astonished. “What! Have you as poor hearing as I have vision?” she exclaimed. “I said I want to be courted. That means flowers, walks, and wonderful suppers at a fine inn in the better part of London. That means sweet kisses under the moonlight. That constitutes you purchasing me a gift of some sort, perhaps even a ring?”
“As in wedding ring, you mean,” he said his voice low and gravelly.
Carrie bit her lip and nodded as she backed away from him. The glint in his eyes made her think he planned on attacking her again…with his big, strong arms sweeping her up, and the most exquisite pair of male lips kissing hers, and—heavens! She had to get herself under control, or lose her virginity, now, on the damp forest floor. Or, possibly, against a tree. Shivers of arousal seeped through her then and a tiny voice inside her told her maybe that wouldn’t be so bad.
No. He would do the correct thing; he would court her. After the appropriate time passed, she would expect him to go down on bended knee and gallantly propose to her. She frowned, wondering how much time was appropriate. That devilish little voice inside her said she hoped it wasn’t too long.
* * * *
As Max leaned against the nearest tree and folded his arms across his chest, he decided he was glad he’d already made his once an evening change. For he knew if he hadn’t, the beast inside him would exert itself, ready to ravish her into submission. Her proposal for a courtship wasn’t all that unreasonable, yet he truly believed she would allow him to make love to her first. He knew she wanted him, could tell by her eager embrace and soft, welcoming lips. Yet now she sounded staunchly against it. He knew he could overpower her, mate with her and not give her a choice, but he didn’t think he could live with her or himself afterwards.
Max had never experienced the true excitement of an unwilling woman, for many a doxy had played that game with him and his brothers. Yet it had all been a game with them—it wouldn’t be with Carrie.
So deep in thought was he, he didn’t notice that she’d backed several steps away from him. He stiffened then at the scent of danger nearby; his blood ran cold—wolf. Damn, could Simon be here in the woods with them? Breathing deep through his nostrils, he identified the scent and breathed easier when he realized it was a normal, every day wolf—not a shifter. Still, not a good thing. Then he narrowed his eyes on an area directly behind her and fear tore through him.
A big, gray wolf growled behind Carrie, not more than a few feet away. Damn! Why hadn’t he been more attuned to his surroundings? Because Carrie had distracted him, he thought in chagrin.
The wolf stood still, teeth bared. With its ribs showing, it appeared it hadn’t had a good meal in a while. Max knew, in order to save Carrie, he’d need to shift. He groaned since he remembered he’d used up his allotted one night shift change!
“Carrie,” he said very softly. “Come toward me. Now.”
She frowned, opened her mouth, likely to protest when she stopped at the sound of the wolf’s growl.
He saw her chest rising and falling quickly, praying she wouldn’t panic. She started to turn her head but Max ordered, “Stop. Do not turn around. Do not look. There is a wolf behind you who appears very hungry.” Her eyes filled with tears but she stayed still, facing him, trembling in fear. “Now do as I say. Walk slowly toward me.”
She did, thank God, one small step at a time. Just as she reached him, the wolf pounced, his growl furious at having his meal taken from him.
Max yanked Carrie behind him, bounded in front of her, and held up his forearm, damning himself for leaving his gun in the coach. How had he forgotten it? It wasn’t often he required one, but right now, he wished he had it. The wolf landed a foot away from Max, growling fiercely. Max maintained eye contact with the animal, and the wolf soon started backing away, then paced side to side, eying Max.
After several moments of pacing and growling, the wolf bounded away into the woods.
Max released his pent up breath and turned to find Carrie slumped on the ground, back against a tree. He swept her up into his arms, felt her shivering body, and held her tight. She clutched him around the neck and he groaned at the feel of her breasts against his chest. Her grip nearly choked him and he pulled at her arms, “Loosen them, sweet, or you’ll strangle me. The big bad wolf is all gone,” he joked. “Come, I’ll take you home.”
“He’s gone is he? And what shall I do about this big bad wolf?” she asked as she reached up and swept a curl off his forehead. He groaned at the sight of tears tracking down her cheeks. “How did you make him stop? The two of you met eye to eye, and…”
“You’re safe now. I’m a good wolf.”
Sniffling, she said, “I only live a short distance from here. Will you take me home?”
He gave her a long, level look, took in her frazzled appearance, and sighed. He’d planned to bring her home with him, but hadn’t the heart now after the fright she’d just had. While that inner beast protested at the idea of escorting her home, he knew he had no other choice. He gave her a devilish grin and held her high in his arms as he made his way out of the trees and onto the road.
Up ahead, he saw his driver and coach. Lifting his fingers, he whistled and the driver turned the carriage around and headed back down the road toward them. At her wide-eyed, questioning look, he said, “I informed him to wait for us down the road apiece. Glad I did.” The carriage reached them. He helped her inside, cursing as her lushly curved bottom tempted him.
Guessing she might not want him to touch her, he started to take the seat opposite her, when she spoke.
“Please, Max. Would you…would you hold me? I’m cold.”
Breathing a relieved sigh at her invitation, he slid onto the seat beside her, and put his arm around her shoulders. Her shivering seemed to be increasing instead of abating, so he hauled her onto his lap, surrounding her with his body heat. Heat. The need to mate ran rampant through him, but he kept his senses about him with Carrie in his arms.
In too short a time, in Max’s opinion, they arrived at her modest farm home. Once the carriage stopped, he opened the door and eased her down to the road. His head shot up at the sound of a squeaking from the porch. Must be her mother waiting up for her, he suspected. But the male voice surprised him.
“I wondered why it took you longer to get home than usual,” a man said as he rose from a rocking chair.
The chair kept rocking, breaking the silence of the night.
�
��It’s not what you think, Brian,” Carrie said as she swept up her skirts and headed up the steps to the porch.
Max stayed put, alongside the carriage as anger built inside him. Hadn’t she said she lived with her mother? And if that was the case, who was this man?
“Get to bed, Carrie. I’ll deal with your…escort.”
“Now, Brian, you stay put right here on this porch!” Carrie shouted.
“Don’t wake up ma, damn it all. She’s been sick all day with the influenza. Introduce me to your boyfriend.”
“He’s not my…”
By this conversation, Max was feeling more at ease. It seemed Carrie had a brother. He stepped forward and said, “I’m Max Dalton. I was heading down the road when I saw Carrie walking. Not a good thing to do so late at night, wouldn’t you agree?” Max kept civility in his voice as he wondered why in the hell her brother didn’t escort her home each night.
Brian shrugged. “Carrie’s an independent little puss. She wouldn’t take to me or anyone else escortin’ her home. Tell him Carrie that’s so.”
“It is. This is my brother, Brian,” she finished on a whisper. “Good night, Mr. Dalton.”
Before Max could utter another goodnight, she disappeared into the house.
“You heard her. Next time Carrie’ll find her own way home.”
“It’s not safe, damn it, man!” Max exploded.
“She’s safe. Been doing it for a few years now. The only unsafe thing I can see is a man like you pickin’ her up along the road.” With that, he wheeled into the house and closed the door.
Max glared at the empty porch, at the door, noting lights on inside the house. “Carrie, we are far from through, sweetheart,” he said through gritted teeth. “Before the next fortnight comes, you’ll be mine,” he declared.
Chapter Four
Over the next several weeks, Max bided his time at Darkwirth, as he tried to plan how to convince Carrie they should mate and then he would court, then marry her, instead of the reverse. With the rising of the moon each evening, drawing closer to a full moon, the pain was growing, close to becoming unbearable. Which, actually, was another reason why he hadn’t pursued her within the fortnight as he’d planned. He wasn’t certain if he could contain himself around her with his body shifting each evening, and the pain to mate growing.