“Really?” he asked sarcastically.
Releasing his arm then, she quickened her step and entered the dining room just before him. “Good evening, everyone,” she greeted, trying to keep her head held high and her smile bright.
“Good evening, Cassidy!” Devonna chimed. “You look splendid in that red!”
“Thank you, milady,” Cassidy uttered graciously.
“Indeed,” Lord Ashmore added. His appraising summation of Cassidy’s appearance unsettled her greatly. His eyes traveled very slowly and intimately the length of her, an entranced smile across his face.
Mason gestured that she should take her seat, assisting her as she did. As he took his own seat next to her, Cassidy was struck ill in her bosom as she saw Gabrielle sitting on the other side of him.
“Dinner is now served,” Havroneck announced from the doorway. Cassidy scolded herself silently for wearing the red. Even his unemotional, unreadable eyes studied her carefully for a moment.
As Syndle and the other maids began serving, Cassidy glanced over and saw Gabrielle place her hand caressively on Mason’s thigh. Rage rose within her.
“Don’t you think Miss Shea should wear red to the betrothal ball, Mother? It so becomes her—red,” Gabrielle said with a taunting smile in Cassidy’s direction.
“It’s very becoming indeed,” Milady Ashmore agreed.
“Men adore red on a woman, you know, Miss Shea,” Lord Ashmore remarked. Cassidy felt the blush rising to her cheeks and thought that her face must now rival her dress in the brilliant hue. Whatever had possessed her to wear red? Then, as Lord Ashmore addressed Mason, she was further humiliated. “Do we not, young Mason?”
“I’m sorry. What was that, Ashmore?” Mason asked, seemingly having been thinking on other things.
“Adore red on a woman, Mason. We men prefer women in red.”
“’Tis a pleasing enough color, I imagine,” Mason mumbled.
“Oh, come now, Mason!” Gabrielle breathed flirtatiously, her hand still at his thigh. “Don’t you agree that Miss Shea should wear that very color to the ball? Think how striking she would appear there beside you as you announce your engagement to all in attendance.”
“Let her wear what she will. It’s of no consequence to me,” he answered, apparently unaware of Gabrielle’s hand on his leg. But Cassidy was fully aware of it and silently seethed with indignation.
“Wear the red, dearest,” Gabrielle said to Cassidy. “It’s quite becoming.”
“For pity’s sake, Gabrielle!” Corbel grumbled irritatedly. “Are you all mad? She may as well wear black to her wedding as red to her engagement ball.”
“Well, my gown shall be blue as the heavens,” Gabrielle offered. “I cannot hope to compare to Miss Shea in appearance.” Her tone was all too obviously that of mockery. “But it is a lovely gown all the same.”
“I’m certain that everyone will look wonderful.” Devonna stated, obviously irritated with the subject. “Now let us have at this meal. I am simply famished!”
Cassidy could hardly stomach to sit and pick at her food, let alone eat it. She heard nothing of the light, trivial conversation among the Ashmores and Mason and his mother. It was all she could do to keep from jumping up and running from them all in a flood of tears and humiliation. All the worse was the way Gabrielle would not keep herself from Mason! Ever she was patting his hand, brushing his cheek lightly with the backs of her fingers, resting her hand affectionately on his leg. And though Mason returned no such physical attentions upon Gabrielle, it appeared to Cassidy that he made no effort to discourage them in any manner. The conversation she overheard between them earlier in the day circled in her mind until she thought she might scream with frustration and an odd sort of aching pain.
When the meal ended, Gabrielle was prompt to take Mason’s arm to lead him toward the library.
“Miss Shea,” Corbel said, offering his arm to her, “may I be so blessed as to escort you?”
Wanting only to flee, Cassidy instead nodded her head in acceptance as her eye caught Devonna’s. Devonna smiled with encouragement and followed them into the library.
“I am so sorry to hear, Miss Shea, that your father has taken ill,” Vesta commented to Cassidy as they entered the dimly lit room. “You must be terribly concerned. And having to wait so long for word. Surely it may take another day before your mother can send word to you.”
“Yes. I can only pray that it was not as serious an accident as was initially portrayed,” Cassidy managed to sputter.
Everyone seated themselves except for Mason, who remained standing, leaning against the wall next to Gabrielle’s chair. Cassidy wanted to scream, to shout that he was now her betrothed, that his dalliance and attention to Gabrielle were improper and must stop instantly, that Mason’s place was next to her chair and not Gabrielle Ashmore’s. But she held her tongue. She simply sat, perfectly postured and with an appearance of complete serenity.
“My heart is with Cylia,” Mason’s mother muttered, a deep frown of concern wrinkling her lovely brow.
“I’m certain that it is, Mother,” Mason mumbled. Cassidy caught something in his voice. He did not seem fully compassionate toward his mother in that moment, and an unsettling glance passed between them that did not elude Cassidy’s attention.
“Oh, dear, Miss Shea,” Gabrielle unexpectedly addressed Cassidy. “You…you have a little something just there, dear.” Gabrielle gestured to her own lip, and Cassidy was instantly horrified, believing that she had indeed neglected her napkin at dinner and was now brandishing some horrid piece of the meal blatant upon her face. Quickly she brushed at the left corner of her mouth. “No, no, darling. Other side,” Gabrielle corrected.
A moment before she raised her hand to brush the other side of her mouth, she realized Gabrielle was distinguishing the small mole at the corner of it. She further realized that Gabrielle had been in close enough proximity numerous enough times to full well know it was a mole and not something left from a meal.
“It’s nothing, simply a birthmark that is my lot in life,” Cassidy informed her firmly.
“How terribly silly of me!” Gabrielle exclaimed, feigning ignorance. “I suppose it’s merely the dim lighting in the room. I thought certain it was…”
Fairly leaping to her feet with the need of escape, Cassidy meant to leave the room in a flash of perfect vermilion from head to foot as her blush was nearly painful. But thankful her heart was when Devonna rose to her feet quickly, saying, “Exactly, darling! I too would like a turn about the veranda. Would you be so kind as to join me, Cassidy?”
“Indeed, of course, milady,” Cassidy managed to choke as Devonna took her arm and turned her toward the veranda.
“There now,” Mason said, reaching out as she neared him, taking her face unexpectedly in his hand. His thumb stroked the mark once slowly. “Indeed, it is permanent.”
The men chuckled lowly, quite amused at Cassidy’s discomfort. Mason’s touch was unendurable—for, even in his mockery, it sent a thrill throughout her body that she had never before experienced. Cassidy turned her face from him and shakily met Devonna’s small stride moving onward in the direction of escape. Once they were without the house and out of view of the others, Cassidy collapsed into a crumpled heap onto a nearby stone bench.
At once Devonna knelt before her, stroking her hair softly and hushing her with the great comforting sounds of a mother. “Darling, ignore her. I promise you it’s she and not Mason that—”
“I cannot do this, milady! I cannot! My pride, my self-esteem, cannot stand against the humiliation, the rejection. I cannot endure,” Cassidy cried out in a whisper as tears spilled from her eyes.
“Now, now, darling. Do not let her conquer you. It is merely Gabrielle. She holds nothing over you, and she certainly does not hold Mason from you. Now, quickly! Dry your eyes, for Mason will be upon us any moment.”
“For what reason?” Cassidy asked, shocked into rationality by Devonna’s assurance that
Mason would soon appear.
“For necessity’s sake among others. Quickly now! Do not let Gabrielle see that she has undone you for one moment, and do not let her do so ever again. Mason is yours. Yours alone, Cassidy. No matter what ambitions Gabrielle may have toward him—no matter what ludicrous reasons he has of his own for keeping himself from you—he is yours and no other’s,” she said in a whisper, dabbing at Cassidy’s moistened cheek with the sleeve of her gown.
“You don’t understand. You cannot possibly. None of you! He…” Cassidy began. But her words were halted by Mason’s sudden appearance from within the house.
“Ah, there you are at last, Mason,” Devonna said, rising. “You were wise and have known better for me than I do myself once again. It’s too chilly out here for me, and Cassidy still requires some fresh air. We’ve put the dove through so much and so terribly quickly, after all. So then I’ll leave you two to wander on your own. You’ll excuse me if I return to the house.” Almost magically, she was gone in an instant.
Cassidy’s anxiety was not so easily squelched, and when Mason reached down, taking her hand in a gesture that she should rise, she wrenched her hand from his. She stood and glared angrily at him before turning her back and marching determinedly down the veranda stairs and into the garden.
“Now, hold!” he growled, close at her heals and finally taking hold of her arm and halting her. “What reason have you to be so vexed with me?”
“What reason have I? Don’t stand there acting the fool before me! I’ve suffered utter humiliation at the hand of nearly everyone who sets foot in this house. I am mocked, disrespected for my position…rather, my lack of position here. My very presence is hardly tolerated by anyone save your mother and father, who seem to bear an affection for me upon which I cannot possibly begin to place origins!” she erupted.
“Red becomes your temperament as well as your features, Miss Shea,” he taunted. “You speak so convincingly. I, for one, have given you no reason to be so vexed. Yet each time we converse, you let go at me as if I had done you the most serious injustice possible.”
“Given me no reason to be vexed? How justify you that statement? Certainly not from your own conscience! You have done naught but despise, resent, and loathe me since the moment we first met! Deny it not, for then you would be a liar as well…and everyone knows how completely Mason Carlisle is shackled to obeying his duty! To serving honor at anyone’s expense!”
Even for her accusations, he seemed to stay unusually calm. In the face of her ravings, he simply said, “I believe your irritation with me stems from something other than the usual this evening. For although you are normally resentful and hateful toward me…it is indeed excessive for no apparent reason at this moment.”
Taking a deep breath, Cassidy decided to approach him in a manner more for his understanding. “At home…at Terrill…when you came upon my friend Gavin and me in the woods, you were angry. Do not deny it…for though I have known you for this very short time, I can recognize in you your anger. You were angry and threatened him not to touch me. Threatened him death should he defile your property with his touch. And yet you bring me here—a stranger to your home and family, with no ally of my own. And each time your…this family of friends therein meets with us, you and she paw at each other like—”
“She?” he asked, though she knew he feigned his stupidity about to whom she referred.
“Gabrielle. Your…your friend Gabrielle.”
“Oh.” He seemed to understand. “You were accusing…rather saying that each time our families meet—mine and the Ashmores, I’m assuming you mean—that each time we meet, she and I…she being Gabrielle…paw at each other like what?”
He was leading her to further anger, and she knew it. Furthermore, she was even more greatly angered, for she did know it, and he had succeeded.
“Can she not enter the room without lavishing you with her tender caresses? Am I to endure this disrespect, this disregard of my good reputation always? You boast so pridefully of your honor, and yet you expect me to forfeit mine for the sake of a woman who you title your friend. Were I to threaten her as you did my own friend, it would not reflect well on me! I would be the fool. What a twisted world we live in where men can threaten to kill other men over touching a woman and yet women are expected to endure unfaithful husbands as if it were no more than a horse’s sneeze.”
“As yet I am not your husband. If I were, however, unfaithful would not be a word that you or anyone else could use in referring to me!” He nearly shouted at her, though he kept his voice to a whisper. She had vexed him completely and regretted it at once. Why did she strive to anger him? She could’ve said nothing, and all would have gone on normally. Then in his next breath he answered the question in her mind. “If it’s my attention that you crave, Miss Shea…then let me assure you that you full well have it with such accusations! Whatever in this world gives you cause to accuse me so? To be so vexed with my friendship of the Ashmore family?”
She couldn’t tell him of the conversation she had heard between him and Gabrielle. She couldn’t tell him that something in her was drawn to him with an immeasurable attraction! She couldn’t tell him that, truly, the only way she had found to hold his attention was in vexing him…provoking him. “It’s improper,” came her weak answer. What a weak excuse it sounded indeed, even to her own ears.
“I don’t deem owning friends improper.”
“It’s not in the owning of them as friends. It’s in her owning you! Her claim on you is embarrassingly obvious!”
“And how so?” He seemed suspicious, and Cassidy felt panic rising in her throat.
“Are you truly unaware? Did you not feel her hand at your thigh at dinner? Her fingers toying with your hair as she sat next to you? Her caress on your shoulder? Surely you, the most honorable and well-educated, wise, and wonderful Mason Carlisle, are not imbecilic enough for those things to escape your notice.”
“Is that what vexes you so?” he asked, calmer and lowering his voice. “That she touches me?”
“It is her manner that concerns me!”
He was silent for a moment, his eyes narrowing, and then he whispered, as if to himself, “You’re jealous.”
“Jealous?” Cassidy exclaimed. “Jealous? Of what? I may be guilty of pride, Mr. Carlisle. Perhaps I’m too prideful and cannot bear my reputation to be blemished, but to name my fault in pride as jealousy is…conceited, if nothing else.”
“Claim me then,” he mumbled through clenched teeth.
“What?” she asked, taken back by his command.
“Lay claim to me. If a certificate of marriage in the months forthcoming is not valid enough for you…then lay claim to me now. Here.”
“What do you mean? You speak in riddles.” She turned to escape him, for at his command that she claim him, her heart, which was already beating furiously from their confrontation, changed its course and beat even more furiously within her bosom at the prospect of acting on what he had said.
Roughly he took hold of her wrists, glanced about quickly as if to ensure their privacy, and then proceeded to lead her to the outer wall of the house nearby. Pressing her firmly back against the wall, he growled, “Claim me as you will, Miss Shea. You say that Gabrielle caresses my shoulder, toys with my hair, handles my legs. Very well. Take something from me that she, in your eyes, has not. Or give me something. Something that you perceive she has not given me.”
Immediately Cassidy’s attention was drawn to his mouth. His teeth were firmly clenched. It was obvious by the slight purse of his perfectly masculine lips. Cassidy was confused by the sudden moisture and warmth in her own mouth. She could think of nothing else for a moment than what a glorious experience would be his kiss. But closing her eyes tightly against his attractive face before hers, she returned to her provocation.
“Is there something? I doubt that anything I could offer…or would offer…would be new to you.” He literally growled like an angry animal, and she opene
d her eyes to meet his furious stare. “I am sorry!” she exclaimed suddenly, desperate to save herself from his further hatred. “I…I shouldn’t…I’ve no right to accuse and provoke you as such. I…please just release me to my own shame at my behavior.”
“No. This issue must be met and mollified here and now! What say you then, Miss Shea?” he growled in a whisper. He released her wrists but pressed his powerful legs against hers so solidly that she could not move from between his body and the wall. Angrily he stripped himself of his dinner coat. “Has she touched me then? I answer, yes!” Fairly ripping his cravat from around his throat, he threw it to the ground. Then, tugging at the back of his shirt, he stripped it from his body, pulling it over his head, and threw it to the ground as well. Cassidy’s breath was taken away by the indecent act as he then took her wrists once more, holding them firmly against the wall at her back on either side of her head. “Have I kissed her?” he breathed in an angry whisper, his mouth a mere inch from her own. “I confess it!” Cassidy closed her eyes tightly as the sting of his confession somehow tore at her heart. “Then what have you to give, as you imply, that she has not already given? What have I to give to you that she has not already taken before you? Here! Here I am! I have never stood thus…stripped before her! Stripped of my pride as well as my attire!”
He hung his head before her for a moment, seeming to gain control of his temper once more. Then he raised his head, and Cassidy saw, though somewhat more calm, he was still very angry.
“How can you accuse me of what you do accuse?” he asked furiously through still clenched teeth. “Have I doubted your morality? Your word? Your commitment? Had I had reason to doubt you, I would not have abducted you from your family and agreed to this…this mockery of marriage! Have you not one kind word for me? Not one shred of trust and faith?”
“I…I well know you are what you say you are. A man of honor and duty,” she managed to whisper, tears streaming down her face. He released her wrists and stood erect before her.
Shackles of Honor Page 14