by Unconquered
“Why not?” The expression in her eyes now boded trouble, for it was extremely mutinous.
His own eyes narrowed. “You must trust my judgment in this, wildcat, for I have experience and you do not. Remember, my love, in a few weeks you will swear before God and man to obey me.”
“And you, Jared Dunham, will swear to cleave only to me. I think if we are to be married we should learn whether we suit each other in all ways.”
“You were half mad with fright just moments ago,” he said softly.
She blushed, but pressed on. “Yet you tell me there is more. What more? Would you have me terrified on our wedding night when I can do nothing about it? Perhaps you are the sort of man who looks forward to a quailing, frightened bride.”
“Do you wish me to seduce you, my love?”
“No, I do not wish to be seduced. One thing Mama is quite fond of telling us is that no one will buy the cow if they can obtain the milk for free.”
He laughed. That sounded just like Dorothea Dunham. “Then what is it you want, wildcat?”
“I want to know what else is involved in making love! How can I learn if I don’t know what to do? How do I know if I’ll like it if I don’t know what it is?”
He took her by the hand and drew her down to the mossy bank that edged the pond. “I must be out of my mind,” he muttered. “Now I am a schoolmaster giving lessons in lovemaking. Very well, wildcat, come here to me, and we will resume where we left off.” He put an arm around her shoulders and drew her back. The fingers of his other hand gently traced her jawline, sending little shivers along her spine. “You put a great deal of faith in my ability to control what are generally called my baser emotions.”
“I trust you, Jared,” she said softly.
“Do you, my dear? I wonder if that is wise.” Then his mouth swooped down to cover hers in a burning kiss. To his surprised delight, she returned the kiss with a hesitant passion that blossomed until one kiss blended into another. Miranda began to feel dizzy with the honeyed sweetness suddenly pouring through her. She felt a delicious languor steal over her, and her arms slipped up around his neck.
Moments later, he gently raised her arms above her head and pressed her back against the bank. Her eyes were closed, the dark lashes fluttering against her pale cheeks. He gazed down at her for a moment, thinking how fair she was, how innocent. He was about to introduce her to her own sensuous nature, a nature that she probably didn’t even know existed. He lay his dark head against her cotton-clad breasts, and heard her heart jump wildly.
For a few minutes he stayed quiet, letting her grow used to him, and then he raised his head and kissed her nipple. His face nuzzled her. The buttons of her shirt were suddenly open and his hot and hungry mouth was on her soft flesh. She cried out softly, and caught at his dark hair with her slender hands. “Jared!”
He sat up and looked mockingly into her eyes. “Do you know enough now, Miranda?”
She wanted him to stop, yet she didn’t. “N-no,” she heard herself say bravely.
He cradled her again in one arm while his long fingers moved lazily to caress her tender, round breasts. Her skin was silken, and warm beneath his touch, and she watched him through half-closed eyes, her breath coming in little gasps. Gently he cupped a breast, his thumb rubbing against the large, dusky rose nipple, and he felt the tremor from deep within her.
“A woman’s breasts,” he said, “are a part of her many charms. How beautiful yours are, my love.”
“Is this all,” she asked breathlessly.
“What a curious little wildcat you are,” he chuckled. “I do believe that I should take you here and now on this mossy bank.” And how easy it would be, he thought, aching terribly. “But I am too old to deflower virgins in secluded woodlands. I far prefer a beautiful candlelit chamber, a comfortable bed, and a bottle of good white wine with my seductions.” He sat her up, buttoned her shirt, kissed her lightly, and stood up.
“You’ve shown me little!” she cried.
“Whether you like it or not, you will have to accept that I know best in this matter.” He pulled her to her feet. “Now, show the lord of the manor the rest of his domain.”
Furious, she ran to her horse, intending to canter off. Let him fend for himself. With luck he’d ride into a salt marsh! Laughing, he caught up with her. He spun her around and kissed her angry mouth. “I hate you!” she cried. “You’re hateful, and too damned superior to suit me! We’ll have a terrible marriage! I’ve changed my mind!”
“But I haven’t! Having been tempted these last few days by the memory of your adorable bottom, I wouldn’t cry off for a hundred island manors!”
She hit him. Hit him with all her strength, her slender hand meeting with his smooth cheek in a loud, smacking noise. Then she flung herself on Sea Breeze and galloped off through the woods.
“Damn!” he swore softly to himself. He hadn’t meant to tease her. And now he’d offended her. She was a far more complicated creature than he had suspected, and as prickly as a little hedgehog. He smiled to himself as he rubbed his cheek. Despite her air of assurance, she had a vulnerability that he suspected stemmed from her London season.
He was surprised that those perfumed London fops had preferred the kitten-pretty Amanda to her ravishing sister. Miranda’s beauty was unusual, and when she matured and learned how to dress she would be an elegant and formidable woman. Someday he would take her back to London and watch society acclaim her.
Right now, however, his task was to get them to the altar, and safely wed. Life! Who could predict it? A few short days ago he had been barely aware of the existence of Miranda Dunham, and now in a few weeks they would be man and wife. She was so young—perhaps too young—and she was much too willful. Yet he wanted her, and he found that intriguing in itself.
Even as a half-grown boy Jared had never lacked for women. He and his older brother, Jonathan, separated by but two years, had had many amorous adventures together until at age twenty Jonathan met Mistress Charity Cabot, fell head over heels in love, and—with their father’s beaming approval—married the girl. Jared, however, continued to follow a pattern of brief amours, never caring deeply for the women involved.
But then love had happened to Jared, as it had to his brother. She had come at him, fists flying, silver-gold hair awhirl, scarcely a conventional meeting what with her father’s dead body between them. He had fallen in love at first sight of the wildcat, but little Amanda was right when she warned him against wearing his heart on his sleeve. Until Miranda was ready to declare her feelings, he must not declare his.
Across the pond a big buck came loping down through the trees to drink. Jared sat quietly, barely moving, as the animal lowered his magnificent antlered head. He was at least an eighteen-point buck, deep brown and beautiful. Jared thought how very much this beautiful wild creature typified both Wyndsong and Miranda. The deer finished drinking and, raising his head, made a snorting noise. Immediately from behind the bushes a delicate doe and two fawns stepped forth and approached the water. When they had finished drinking, all four stole back into the forest, leaving Jared Dunham with a strange sense of loss.
He mounted his horse and rode back the way he had come, following Hill Brook, which fed into the pond, to Short Creek, which began two hills from the manor house. He had only seen about a third of the island, but there would be plenty of time to explore Wyndsong after they were married. It was growing late, the orange sun sinking lower with each passing minute, and a sudden chill was in the air. Nevertheless, he stopped for a moment on the crest of the hill above the house to look about him.
To the north the sky was already dark blue, the evening star rising sharp and jewel-like. The forest behind him was still bright, the setting sun reflecting back the red and gold of the autumnal trees. A soft purplish haze hung over the fields and marshes to the south and west. At the very tip of the island the pine woods seemed ablaze with golden sunlight. As he watched, a small flock of Canada geese whirled overhead
out of the evening sky and settled down on Hill Pond near the house.
“Damn, I like this island!” he said softly.
“How fortunate since it is now yours,” a tart voice replied.
“Where did you come from?” he asked, whirling around to face her. He was amused to have been caught.
“Oh, Sea Breeze and I rode off my bad temper. I came back to find you. It would hardly do if I lost you. God only knows who’d become lord of the manor then, and I’d be stuck marrying him. At least with you I know what I’ve got. You’re not too old, and I suppose one could call you reasonably attractive.”
He hid a smile. She wasn’t going to give an inch, but then he wasn’t going to give one, either. “That was very kind of you, Miranda,” he murmured. “Shall we continue on to the house?”
Their horses moved in tandem down the hill and up the next rise to the house where Jed, the stableman, was waiting for them.
“ ’Nother few minutes and I’d have come looking for you with the dogs,” he said sharply.
“What on earth for?” demanded Miranda. “I’ve been riding this island all my life.”
“He hasn’t.”
“He was with me.”
“Yep,” the taciturn man replied. “That’s what I was worried about.”
“You need have no fears for Miranda, Jed,” said Jared quietly. “She had done me the honor of agreeing to become my wife. Our wedding is to be celebrated December sixth. Cousin Thomas asked that his mourning period be no more than a month.”
“Ahhh,” breathed the stableman with just a ghost of a smile on his weathered face. “That’s different, Master Jared.” He took the horses from them and turned away to the stables. “Good night to you both, then.”
Jared chuckled. “He is more aware of the proprieties than you are, wildcat, even after your London season.”
“I hated London!” she replied vehemently. “I could never really breathe. It was dirty, and noisy, and everyone was always in a hurry.”
“That’s the curse of all big cities, Miranda, but don’t be too harsh on London. It can be a lovely place, and if this situation in Europe doesn’t develop into a war I will take you back there one day.”
“We must go back next spring for Amanda’s wedding,” she reminded him.
“Yes, there’s that. But you will be too busy spending your time and my money shopping.”
She grinned mischievously up at him. “Fashions change, sir. I shall be forced to purchase an entire new wardrobe. It would hardly do for the mistress of Wyndsong Manor to be seen in last year’s clothes.”
“Perish the thought,” he mocked, casting his gaze heavenward.
They entered the house and were greeted by Dorothea, who asked, “When shall I tell Cook to serve dinner, Jared? It can be ready at any time.”
“An hour, Miranda?”
She nodded, flattered that he had asked, and sped up the stairs calling to Jemima, the maid she shared with Mandy, to prepare a bath. But on entering her bedroom, she found the steaming tub already waiting. “How do you always do that?” she demanded.
“If I told you I’d have no secrets, now would I?” snapped the sharp-tongued Jemima, a tall, spare woman with iron-gray hair. “Phew, child, those clothes of yours stink to high heaven. You’ve been riding hard, Miss Miranda.” She looked slyly at the girl as she pulled off her boots. “Did he catch up with you?”
Miranda kept her face carefully averted to hide her blushes. “No one, not even the new master of Wyndsong, can outride me, Mima. You should know that.” She slipped behind the painted screen, pulled off her riding clothes, and tossed them to the maid. “Take those downstairs to be washed. I’ll bathe myself, and ring when I need you.”
Disappointed, Jemima left. She had been the twins’ nursemaid, and had simply stayed on as they grew older, serving them as personal maid. It was hard for her to adjust to their being grown. She wanted their confidences as she had had them when they were children. Of course, Amanda was more inclined to confide in Mima than Miranda had ever been. Miranda had always been a very private person.
The bath stood waiting, and after testing it with her toe Miranda pinned her hair up, climbed in, and sank down into the perfumed water. The tub was cream-colored porcelain, decorated with tiny rosebuds. It had a high sloping back, and because it had been made especially for her in Paris, it was extra large and accommodated her long legs.
For a few minutes she sat quietly, letting the warmth of the water penetrate her body, her mind a blank. The air was warm, and redolent of her personal scent, sweet stock, a slightly exotic yet innocent perfume that strangely suited her. It was distilled and made for her in London.
As the tub began to cool she took up the stock-scented soap and quickly lathered and rinsed herself. Climbing out, she reached for the towel hanging on its rack before the fire, and slowly dried herself.
Her mind was beginning to clear. This afternoon had been quite a revelation, although she would never, ever admit it to Jared. Thank God the wedding was still six weeks away! How did women fight the feelings men caused in them? Would giving in to those feelings mean losing one’s own self?
“I will not belong to anyone but myself,” she said softly. “I won’t!”
Naked, she walked across the room to the bed where fresh clothes lay, and dressed in white lawn drawers, white silk stockings with lacy garters, vest, and petticoat. All of the undergarments were edged in dainty, hand-made lace. She recalled the shocking new Paris fashion. French ladies had dispensed with undergarments, and were nude beneath their silk gowns! Some were even wetting their gowns so that they clung to their bodies!
Her dinner gown was of apple-green shot silk, which appeared silvery in certain light. Its neckline was square and low, its waistline caught beneath her breasts in the Empire style, its sleeves were short and puffy. She smiled, pleased with her image as she stood before the mirror and fastened a strand of pearls around her neck and matching pearl bobs in her ears. Pulling the pins from her hair, she brushed it vigorously, braided it, and affixed the braids neatly in a coronet atop her head. It was a severe style, but Amanda’s confection of curls, the latest fashion, simply did not suit Miranda. Lastly she dabbed on essence of distilled stock flowers and, slipping on her heel-less apple-green silk shoes, left her room.
Knocking on her twin’s bedroom door, she called out, “Are you ready, Mandy?”
“Meet you in the hall,” Amanda called.
Amanda was dressed in her favorite pale pink, and together the sisters descended the main staircase of the house and entered the family parlor where Jared and their mother waited.
“Lord,” murmured Amanda softly so only her twin could hear, “he is devilishly handsome … our guardian, your betrothed.”
Then both girls chorused, “Good evening, Mama! Good evening, sir!”
Dinner was announced, and Jared took Dorothea’s arm while the girls followed behind. The meal was a relatively simple one beginning with a thick cream of vegetable soup, followed by a ragout of breast of veal, a platter of partridges and quails stuffed with apricots, prunes, and rice, another platter of whole boiled lobsters, a soufflé of autumn squashes flavored with maple syrup and cinnamon, a bowl of late peas, and one of a whole cauliflower, the top of which was sprinkled with buttered crumbs. The second course consisted of apple fritters sprinkled with sugar, caramel custard, and almond cheesecake. Red and white wine were served with the first course, and coffee and tea with the second.
After dinner the four retired to the main parlor, and Amanda sang, accompanying herself on the pianoforte. Jared sipped an excellent brandy. Finally he put his snifter down after complimenting Amanda, and said to Dorothea, “I want you to plan Miranda’s wedding as if Tom were still alive. Spare no expense, and invite whom you please.”
“I don’t want a large wedding,” protested Miranda. “Can we please be wed quietly? Amanda’s wedding will be the social event of the season, and that should be enough for us all.”
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br /> “Amanda’s being married in London, and none of our good friends and neighbors, as well as many of our relatives, will be able to come. You cannot deny so many people the chance to see one of you wed,” said Dorothea.
“It’s silly, Mama! This is a marriage of convenience, not a love match. I shall feel very foolish surrounded by a horde of people all burbling nonsense, and wishing me happiness.”
“Because it is a marriage of convenience is no reason you cannot be happy,” replied Dorothea sharply.
“Oh, do as you please!” snapped Miranda. “You will, anyway!” She stood up, and moved through the French doors out onto the terrace that jutted over the hill, giving a view of the sea. Her long, slender hands clenched and unclenched at the terrace’s rough stone wall. She had always hated fuss, and this would become a monumental fuss. She shivered in the early October night, and was glad when a shawl was draped over her shoulders.
His arm slipped around her waist, drawing her back against him. She felt his breath warm against her ear as he spoke. “I thought all women loved planning their weddings.”
“If they are looking forward to their weddings I imagine they do. But I don’t love you. I don’t love you!”
“You will, Miranda. You will,” he said softly. “I will make you love me!” Turning her toward him, he bent and covered her mouth with his own.
It happened again! She shivered violently. Her heart began to race. The blood roared in her ears. Fight! said her brain. Fight, or be overcome! But her limbs were drained of strength. She melted against him, her lips returning his kisses. He raised his head from her mouth and kissed her closed, quivering eyelids. “You will love me, Miranda,” he said huskily, “for I will it, and I am not a man to be denied!” Then he held her tenderly against him until her breathing quieted and she stopped trembling.
She felt so helpless against him, and wondered if it would always be like this between them. Why could he render her weak with just a kiss? It confused her, and she almost hated him for it.
“I will not see you in the morning, wildcat,” he said gently. “We sail on the early tide, long before you’ll open those sea-green eyes of yours. You have my permission to buy whatever you feel you’ll need for the wedding.”