“I swear I didn’t know, Caro,” he told her, apologetically. “I assumed since you were married…” His words trailed off.
Caroline decided it was time she told him what really happened. “Richard Lockler was very dear to me, Tonio. He knew the stress I was under because of Papa’s losing battle with death. Richard treated me like a daughter even after we were wed. He—well, he didn’t pressure me to—to consummate our marriage. And then, a few months later, he was killed.”
Antonio couldn’t explain the wonder and joy he experienced. She was untouched—a virgin. He was the first to know her intimately. He had always preferred experienced sex partners, and since Caroline was married, he assumed that she was, too. But no. He knew now she had been innocent. Why did the knowledge make him so wildly ecstatic?
“Are you…all right now, Caro?” he asked.
“Yes, I’m fine, I think,” she said.
“I’m glad.” He leaned over and gently brushed her lips with his. “Have I made you happy? Tell me, I must know.”
She reached up a hand and trailed fingertips along his smooth, golden cheek. His eyes, the color of dark chocolate, melted into hers. His lips hovered inches above her mouth. She lifted her head and kissed him sweetly on the mouth. “Oh, yes, Tatu…yes. You’ve made me very happy,” she assured him.
“Why did you let me make love to you, Caro?”
She couldn’t tell him it was because she loved him. She knew they didn’t share the same feelings. To be sure, he’d taken her with a certain amount of care, but what he felt, she assured herself, was lust—raw, male desire. Oh, he may entertain a fondness for her, but Antonio Thorndyke enjoyed a long reputation for short alliances. He had challenged her and won, gotten what he wanted; therefore, he would undoubtedly go on to the next lady that caught his eye. For that reason, Caroline dare not let him know how she truly felt.
Steeling herself to behave as if nothing earthshaking had changed her life, she replied matter-of-factly, “It was because of Richard, I suppose. I—I wanted to know what it was like to make love,” she told him truthfully. “I was attracted to you—although I shouldn’t puff you up any further by telling you that. You’re much too arrogant already, Your Grace.” She smiled, halfheartedly. “But we seemed to…ignite…something unusual in each other. Even tempt one another. I saw that you wanted to make love to me, and I…well, I simply couldn’t resist you any longer.”
Por Dios, he thought. How can she be so nonchalant after what we just shared? She explained it as if it were a nothing, simply a new lesson to tuck away for future reference.
A huge knot formed in his stomach where a pleasant glow had been before she told him her reasons. He felt seriously deflated—as if someone had punched him in the gut and left him gasping, like a fish out of water.
Well, no matter, the die was cast. Unfortunately, whether she cared for him or not, he must do what any man of honor did when he ruined a virgin.
“Caroline, I will speak with Hal and explain. It’s imperative we marry as soon as possible…by special license, I think.”
“What?” she exclaimed, suddenly, gaping in amazement. “Marry?” Abruptly, she sat up. “I can’t marry you, Your Grace,” she said. Reaching around, she dragged the scattered pile of clothing clustered on the ground cloth toward her and pulled on the shirt, haphazardly buttoning it.
Antonio grabbed her arm. “What is it? Don’t you believe me? You know I thought you were an experienced widow, or I would never…”
He looked deep into her eyes. “I’ve been nothing but truthful with you, Caro.”
“Yes, I know, Your Grace,” she said flatly, understanding his reasons. “You wouldn’t deflower a virgin. It would mean you must marry her. I knew you didn’t want any commitments. Hal told me.”
“But, why then…”
Caroline straightened her shoulders, her posture stiff and unyielding. “Well, you can rest easy, Your Grace. Don’t worry. There is no reason for you to marry me. No one will be the wiser about our scandalous interlude. I’m sure everyone assumes I am experienced. And, well—I suppose I am now.”
Caroline rose half clothed and retrieved her breeches. Leaning against the willow’s trunk, she pulled them on and tugged her boots over them.
Antonio had risen and adjusted his own clothes.
Uncomfortable silence and a wide, chilly distance had blossomed between them where minutes before they were as close as two people could possibly be. Taken by mistakes and disillusionment…hidden pain…unnecessary anxiety…a little time together once helped them know each other better, but only for a brief time. Both were skittish, not ready to show their true feelings. If they were aware of it, neither knew how to close the gap between caring and stubbornness. Everything had come apart so suddenly. During that last hour they truly believed all barriers between them were leveled. But now, they scarcely spoke.
Caroline gathered up the bundle of leftover food, called Demon, and started to leave. The ache in her heart was almost unbearable. She understood what Lady Maribelle and Lady Isobelle must have endured when Antonio walked out. Well, she would do the walking this time though letting him go would be the hardest thing she’d ever do.
* * * *
Caroline had no idea that Antonio wasn’t going to let her go.
As far as he was concerned, she now belonged to him and only him—her beauty, her talent, and her feistiness. He would make her love him if it took a lifetime. He was astonished at the certainty he felt.
“Caroline, hold on. It’s urgent and wise that I speak with Hal. Even now, you might be carrying my…our…child. I was muy foolish. I let myself go too far. We must marry.”
“Your Grace,” she retorted, showing her anger in tone and choice of address. “If you remember, I said I would never again do anything against my will. I—I gave myself to you today because I wanted to, not because you took me. I will not be forced into marriage.”
Caroline started to move toward Demon then turned back, deciding to explain further.
“I married primarily because it would ease my father’s mind, and because I could trust Richard. I always hoped there would be children from my marriage, but I’m not certain I can trust you, Your Grace.” Her lips twisted into a wry smile. “I will never tolerate mistresses, lightskirts, or courtesans to share my husband.” She hissed through a determined breath. “Therefore, you see, I can’t…and won’t…marry you. You, Your Grace, already have far too many commitments for me to overlook or forgive.”
“I have no other commitments, as you put it, Caro.”
“What of Lady Maribelle…or Lady Isobelle…and who knows how many more unhappy and forgotten ladies?”
“No one now shares my favors except you,” he replied tersely. “I’ve been free of all entanglements since after the Cromleys' ball.”
His statements were eye opening. Had he really broken off with both Lady Maribelle and Lady Isobelle? Good grief, if only it were true. If so, did she dare believe him? Would it be wise to do so? Or was this simply a temporary hiatus until he found someone new and was bored with Hal’s widowed sister?
Caroline’s heart skipped several beats. She wanted desperately to believe Antonio’s confession. She’d been heart sore for weeks because of him and weary of the doldrums for more months because of her father and Richard. She didn’t want to fall into that awful depressing mood again. Her psyche was still too tender. If only she could be certain he loved her the way she loved him. She ached for his love, his constancy, but—
What if he cheated on her? Her sensibilities would be badly battered if he did so, plunging a knife into her recovering soul, emptying her heart’s blood at his feet. A second time, she might not recover.
But again, if she let him go now, she’d never know what he truly felt.
Caroline trembled in silence, considering what she could lose—or what she might gain.
Locked in each other’s gaze, a mere distance separated them. Ah, but that distance might be a hundred
—a thousand meters. What could bridge the gap?
Antonio’s eyes right now were the warm and open chocolate brown she loved. He didn’t tear his gaze away or hide behind his lashes. He just stared unblinking, into hers.
“Caroline?”
She felt her face drain of color; her hands fisted at her waist, and she hesitated. “I…don't know, Your Grace.” She met his stare, desperately trying to read his thoughts. “I simply don't know,” she whispered, her voice trailing off into silence.
Antonio stepped closer and grabbed her hands, unclenched her fingers, laced his with hers. He fastened his gaze on her upturned face, seeing the uncertainty and fear swimming in her troubled expression. He knew she’d heard about his womanizing.
“I promise…I will never willingly hurt you, Caro…I swear it,” he pledged. “Believe me, please, and trust me.”
Oh, if only I could, we could make it work, make a life together.
Caroline’s bottom lip quivered. Her vision blurred, lashes blinking rapidly, holding back tears. Slowly, Antonio released her hands and slid warm palms around her waist to draw her near. She came into his arms with a rush and leaned against him, her forehead pressed into his shoulder. With one hand, he gently stroked her back beneath her unbound hair while his other hand tightly gripped her slender waist.
“Well, querida?”
For some reason, she knew he was holding his breath.
I’ll try if you will, she conceded, wordlessly, accepting the risk and ready to surrender.
“It will be good between us, Caro.” Antonio coaxed some more, leaning back, caressing her cheek, and murmuring, “We’ve much to share.” His smile told her that he hoped she believed him.
Caroline looked deep into his eyes again, searching them to wipe away any serious doubts. She wanted so much to accept what the duke promised.
His answer was in her eyes when, finally, she inhaled, nodded, and said, “Yes.”
He crushed her to him. Their embrace lasted for several moments, tender moments, while each reflected on their life-changing decisions.
“You’ll not be sorry, mi corazon,” he vowed, kissing her eyelids, her nose, and lastly, tenderly, her lips.
“Please tell Hal I’ll call on him day after tomorrow, Caro. It won’t be easy to confess what I’ve done,” he continued.
“Tonio, Hal doesn’t need to know…I mean that Richard and I never…”
“You mean he didn’t know?” Antonio’s brows lifted. He grazed her chin with an index finger. “Never mind, Caro. He’ll know when I tell him, and I must tell him—the whole truth—if I’m to keep his friendship. After all, brothers are like that, and I don’t want him to call me out.” He smiled somewhat ruefully when he said it. It might have been a distinct possibility, even though dueling had been illegal for many years.
Caroline’s smile was thin and tight. Questions still circled in her mind. Her brain awhirl, she realized to what she’d agreed. She said she would marry the Spaniard. The idea dawned on her that she had wanted Antonio Thorndyke for her husband since she was a schoolgirl, dreamed of him of making love to her as he’d done today.
Still uncertain, her heart fluttered wildly.
Oh my God! Have I made a serious mistake?
Was she doing the right thing? Or would she be leading a life of misery? Her heart should be singing, but she was so afraid, so unsure. He swore he would never willingly hurt her. Dear Lord, she had to trust him…she had to believe in his promises. She’d always wanted to spend the rest of her life with him. And now, it was going to happen.
“I—I think it’s best if I go now, Tonio.”
She was thinking too much. She had to leave—be alone—take time to settle into her decision.
Antonio’s gaze roved over Caroline’s face. “If that is what you want, querida. Shall I accompany you back to Crestwood? Or shall we rest here a while longer?”
“There’s no need,” she answered, a little too sharply. “I prefer to ride home alone. Let me go by myself.”
“As you wish,” Antonio conceded, watching as Caroline galloped off on Demon. He approached Challenger, tucking a hand into a breeches’ pocket. Slowly he pulled out what he’d planned to return to her. He grinned to himself. There was no need now, he thought, and stuffed a pair of ladies’ stockings deep into his pocket.
Chapter 20
Antonio didn’t rely on Caroline to set up an appointment with Hal. That would only alert him that something was strange—or troublesome. He sent his card later that day, requesting a meeting two days hence without giving a reason. He needed time to get his thoughts together before speaking to his friend. Besides, he wasn’t certain what conventions were in place regarding Caroline’s widowhood. Not that it mattered. He’d make sure they married quickly.
What a fool he was, believing making love to her once would end it. He was ravenous to have her again. Never had he experienced such complete satisfaction with anyone. She did nothing but feed his desire. He wanted more and more of her—finally realizing why.
That sharp twinge of jealousy had alerted his senses when Brawley was so attentive to Caroline in London. A spurious wave of possessiveness sped through him at the Nashes’. He never before felt such an elemental sense of territory impinging on any of his possessions. He wouldn’t tolerate the thought of another man touching Caroline the way he had—or, nombre de Dios, plunging into her sweet body. No, she was his now and would remain his forever.
* * * *
Antonio was up and about with the sun the day after his rendezvous with Caroline. By eight o’clock, he’d dispatched a courier to his man of business, instructing Thurmond to obtain a special license from the Archbishop of Canterbury. He also warned the man to keep the seeking of it under wraps or suffer the consequences.
When Briella and Aunt Mari entered the breakfast room, Antonio greeted his relatives succinctly, ate quickly, and left, closeting himself in his study.
Later that afternoon, he appeared in riding clothes. Declining tea, he requested a supper tray sent to his chambers, something very unusual for him. In the upstairs hallway Briella ran into him and asked, “Is everything all right, Tonio?”
“Fine,” he stated, explaining estate affairs had kept him busy most of the day. He gave no further reasons and nodded a curt goodnight to his sister.
The next morning Briella and Aunt Mari found him more talkative. “Buenos dias, Tia Mari…Briella,” he greeted them both with a warm smile.
“Buenos dias, Tonio,” they chorused.
“You feel better today, si?” Briella inquired.
Seemingly preoccupied when he came in from his ride yesterday, his sister was concerned. Now he seemed fine.
“I feel marvilloso, Briella. Never felt better.”
Briella and Mari exchanged quizzical glances, but neither dared pry. Except for the evening at Caroline’s surprise party, Antonio had behaved differently ever since London. The women were glad to see that his mood had changed for the better.
“I ride to Crestwood later this morning,” he told them.
“Muy bueno, Tonio. I shall ride with you to visit Caroline,” Briella began.
“No, chica, not today. I have business with Hal and prefer to go alone.”
That was strange, Briella thought. What did his business with Hal have to do with a visit between her and Caroline? Not wanting a return of his somber mood, his sister acquiesced. “I shall make my visit tomorrow, then,” she said and let the matter drop.
* * * *
At precisely half past eleven, Antonio rode up the white gravel drive of Crestwood Manor on Challenger, while admiring Caroline’s childhood home. The circular carriageway enclosed a massive fountain. It sprayed a misty fall of water almost fifteen feet into the air. A myriad of tiny, colorful rainbows formed when the July sun filtered through the spray. Drooping branches of flowering trees, covered with white blossoms, surrounded the fountain. Its perimeter was outlined by a well-clipped, privet hedge. A path of circular slat
es led from the drive and ended at the fountain. Colorful flowers bloomed in profusion bordering the path. A well-scythed lawn spread well beyond the front of the Manor.
Antonio had attended to the minute details of his appearance for his visit with Hal. He looked the epitome of an English nobleman outfitted in sartorial splendor by the best tailors in Bond Street.
He was also a tiny bit uneasy about the upcoming interview with his friend.
Ripley swung open the door as the duke reached the top step of the stone stairs. “Good morning, Your Grace. Welcome to Crestwood Manor,” he greeted Antonio and took his hat, gloves and riding crop from him. He led the duke down the hall to Hal’s study. Antonio remembered when he’d made that first solo call to Crestwood—the room where Caroline had received him so coldly.
Hal rose from behind the large desk as Ripley announced, “The Duke of Weston, my lord.”
“Come in, come in, Tony.” Hal greeted him warmly as they shook hands. “A brandy? Or would you prefer port?”
“A brandy will be fine, Hal. Thank you.”
Hal went to fill two glasses from the decanter standing ready on the sideboard. Casually, he inquired, “What can I do for you, Tony? Is something amiss at Westhaven?”
“No, no, Hal,” Antonio replied. “Nothing like that.”
Well, I had my opening. Best jump in and come out with it.
“This may come as a surprise, Hal,” he began, “but I came to offer for Caroline.”
Silence reigned for the longest moment.
A brandy snifter clinked against Waterford crystal, and Hal abruptly put down the full decanter.
“Wh-at?” The earl, indeed, looked flabbergasted. “You wish to marry Caroline?” Hal asked, spinning to face Antonio. “But why? I mean…when did this come about?”
For the moment, Hal forgot about offering refreshments. “I must say, Tony, you’ve taken me completely by surprise.”
“I was afraid so. But bear with me if you will.”
The Reluctant Duke Page 19