“Why then provoke and accuse me? Why then accuse Gabrielle?” Cassidy could say nothing and simply shook her head as she continued to cry. Stepping back from her, Mason held his hands out to his sides. “Look at me.” She shook her head. “Look at me, Cassidy Shea!” he demanded. “You have stripped me of who I am. You have confused and vexed me so that I no longer know which way to turn when you are in the room. You talk of pride? I ask you, where is a man’s pride when the woman who is to be his wife has no faith in his character?” Then the power of his form was flush with hers once more. “You do not wish to touch me…for she who went before you has already done so. You do not desire my kiss…for I have given it, though not fully, before.” His hands cupped her neck with a surprising tenderness as he spoke. “You strip me of my pride. And that is my gift to you—my pride.”
Instantly her hands began to push him away. So tightly did he press against her that she could not escape him. To touch the bareness of his chest, his waist, his shoulders as she tried to struggle free was unthinkable, yet at the same time so intimately wonderful that she did not truly want escape.
“Claim me as you will, Miss Shea. I’ve no pride left to give you. I do not mean to molest you…for even you know that is not within me. I meant only to frighten you…as you have so vexed and accused me. And now I tell you, lay claim to me. If it will ease your mind where this entire situation is concerned, I give leave to command me in any action so you may take comfort in your claim on me and mine.”
She had won the battle. Cassidy knew that his symbolic stripping himself of his shirt, as his pride, had broken him. There could never be a doubt in his mind now that he would have to give up Gabrielle. Still, she felt guilty, hateful, and shallow all at once. With her own ears she had heard him spurn Gabrielle’s offer of mistress to him. With her own eyes she had seen him push the girl from his arms. Why then could she not just accept that he was in earnest? Why did she feel the need to confront him further?
“I…I ask only your respect to this arrangement. Please don’t expect me to live as an outcast because I’m unwanted…everyone knowing it.”
He said nothing, but his hands slid from around her neck with some sort of a defeated caress along her shoulders until they rested finally at the sleeves of her gown, which capped each shoulder lightly. Unexpectedly, he pushed one sleeve cap downward, exposing the round softness of her shoulder. She gasped as he bent, stroking the delicate flesh there with the side of his face, causing that her shoulder should tingle with the sensation of his abrasive, roughly shaven whiskers against her tender skin. His movements were slow and deliberate as he caressed her neck and cheek with his face, his breath warm and sensational on her hair and ear. Her flesh tingled delightedly at his touch and the closeness to him.
He had been right. Jealousy had driven her to vex him in order that she may take his attentions from Gabrielle. Now her tears streamed in profusion down her cheeks out of shame and sadness for herself. The smell of his hair filled Cassidy’s senses as he bent before her, held her, caressed her skin with his face, overwhelming her with compassion and desire for him. Suddenly, for fear that she might reveal her ever-increasing feelings toward him, she frantically began to push at his shoulders, neck, and ribs with her own shoulders, arms, and hands. His skin was warm and scented with an aroma she suspected was unique only to him. The fragrance of Mason Carlisle filled her lungs, and she had to escape him or weaken completely in his arms.
Finally, he straightened, his glare somewhat softened. Stepping back, he said, “There you have it. A claim on me that no other woman has experienced. I have held no other woman when I was in such a state of undress. Caressed no other woman’s fragrant shoulder in this manner. Let no other woman’s hands rest against the bareness of me. And still,” he continued, “you are the only woman of my acquaintance who does not want of my mouth on hers.”
All of his seemingly well-intentioned efforts were for naught with his final words. Though Cassidy scolded herself inwardly for believing in his sincerity and compassion for her, she had. Soundly she slapped him across the face and fled. He let her go this time. There would be no pursuit, and she was devastated by the flood of emotions and frustration that enveloped her. Would she never smile again? Would she never laugh? Would her heart ever be completely her own? How would she vanquish the vision of him standing before her in such a state, so astoundingly sculpted? How would she cease the tingling that persisted on her shoulders and neck where he had caressed her? How would she keep the wonderful, romantic dreams of him at bay?
Quietly she entered the house through the doors that led to the kitchens and made her way up the back stairs toward the bedchambers. Rounding a corner, she stumbled as Mathias darted out in front of her seemingly from nowhere. He jumped up, resting his paws firmly on her thighs, his hind legs on the floor, tail wagging and tongue panting away happily.
“Mathias! Come!” she heard Mason’s voice command.
He was approaching from somewhere ahead of her. Cassidy pushed the dog gently from her skirts. Without thought of consequence, she opened the nearest door, not heeding to which chamber the door led, and stepped in, closing it nearly completely behind her. She peered out through the small opening that remained.
Mason did indeed come striding into the hallway where Mathias was. “Mathias!” he commanded, and the dog fell into step beside him. Mason’s frown was deep. He held clutched in one hand the very garments he had discarded outside only minutes before. He disappeared into the darkened corridor.
Cassidy startled as a voice somewhere in the room behind her said, “So, you’re hiding from him already, my dove?”
Cassidy tried to regain her composure as she whirled around to face the giant of a man who lay bedridden and ill. Lord Carlisle’s smile was that of pleasure and kindness.
“He…I’ve vexed him terribly,” Cassidy confessed.
“Well, I can well tell that by the violence of his footsteps in the corridor.” The older man grinned reassuringly at her and said, “You didn’t come to visit me today, dove.”
“I…I was not aware that you desired a visit from me, milord,” Cassidy answered, approaching his bedside as he gestured that she should do so.
“What man would not want the company of such a beauty as yourself, dove? And adorned in red, all the more.”
“Confound this red dress!” Cassidy grumbled. “If I never own another red, it will be far too early.”
“I will hear not of that! Red becomes you, dove. A man always likes to see a woman in red. No doubt it is Mason’s blood running red as that dress that has him so unsettled.” Cassidy quickly brushed the tears from her face and sat down on the bed next to him.
“No disrespect intended, sir…but it is his shackling to me that has him so unsettled.”
“Certain varieties of shackles can be blessed indeed. Do not let Mason distress you so.”
His address to her was interrupted as it seemed a great pain passed throughout his body. Frowning and closing his eyes for a moment, he held his breath until the discomfort passed. Then he said, as if his time was short and it was expedient that he speak his mind, “Were you to burst in upon him this moment, my dove…were you to walk directly up to Mason Carlisle and ask him for the world…he would not pause in giving it to you. Were you to open your own heart to his…you would find him waiting with an open heart as well as a warm embrace.”
“Sir, I know that you hope that Mason will…that we will…find pleasant companionship together, but I must help you to see that he—”
“Your tonic, sir,” Havroneck announced, entering the room suddenly. He carried a tray supporting several glasses as he walked directly to the master’s bedside and set the tray on the small table that stood there. “Milady Carlisle is worried that you have overexerted yourself today, sir. She will be in shortly to bid you good-night. I am to ensure that you indeed ingest your tonic.” Havroneck was ever so serious and unemotional. It sent a rather discomforting sensation through Ca
ssidy each time they met. Again, she did not miss his quick and rather obvious summation of her appearance.
“Horrid stuff, the tonic,” Lord Carlisle grumbled as he drank from one of the glasses Havroneck had brought.
“Does it help?” Cassidy asked.
“Not a whit! But my physician tells me it is all he can do. For I am to die, you realize, dove.”
His statement was so brutally forthright and unexpected that Cassidy knew not how to react. Her initial response was to scold him, to beg him to tell her that he only exaggerated. But she knew he spoke the truth. “But…but, sir, surely…” she began.
“I am to die, dove, and you and Havroneck are the only two people on earth who can accept it. Is that not right, Havroneck?”
Havroneck nodded in agreement, though, for the first time since her coming, Cassidy saw an expression other than indifference cross his face. Cassidy was further silenced by Havroneck’s agreement.
“’Tis why you must be Mason’s before I die. ’Tis why he is such the perpetual grump just now. I’ve many concerns and responsibilities, Cassidy. Many, many with my business. Many concerns for my wife’s well-being when I am gone. Many for you. All this has begun to fall heavily on Mason’s shoulders. Understand that he is worried with the weight of the world.” Lord Carlisle paused and looked at Havroneck. “I’ve taken the confounded tonic, Havroneck. You may leave us now.” Havroneck nodded and left expediently.
“Indeed, I understand, sir,” Cassidy explained. “It’s all the more reason that he does not need a millstone about his neck in the form of me.”
Lord Carlisle chuckled. “You’re hardly a millstone, dove, and I’m certain Mason would be more than delighted to have you permanently about him at all times.”
“It’s clear to me now why your son is ever so serious and unjovial,” Cassidy whispered, smiling, “for you and your dear wife have not a serious bone in your bodies.”
Laughing heartily then, Lord Carlisle’s large arms extended, and he enveloped Cassidy in a strong embrace. “You’re good for my soul, dove. That you are.”
“My father needs his rest, Miss Shea.” Cassidy turned to see Mason standing just inside the doorway of the chamber.
“Nonsense, son! Who could possibly rest when such a beauty—in red, I may add—is at his side?” Lord Carlisle released Cassidy with a wink, and she stood at once, ready to take her leave. “Bless me with a kiss, daughter-to-be. Just here…on my forehead. Just as you do your own father when he is near.” Cassidy smiled and could not refuse him. Bending down, she kissed him affectionately on one thick brow. “An angel’s kiss,” Lord Carlisle sighed. “She has an angel’s kiss, Mason, my boy. You should relish it whenever you can.” Instantly Cassidy was humiliated, knowing full well from what had just transpired between them that Mason Carlisle had no desire to kiss her.
“Alas, Father, she wants no such attention from me. She has made that quite clear already this evening,” Mason grumbled, brushing his freshly slapped cheek with one hand.
“Nonsense, boy! And why is it you are already preparing to retire? To allow Cassidy to see you in such a state! Your mother would faint dead away.”
“Forgive me, Miss Shea. I did not expect to find you here. Otherwise I would’ve appeared…exactly the same.”
Cassidy let his provocation slip over her, for despair ruled her now. Despair in the knowledge that she could not have him. “I apologize for my remarks earlier, Mr. Carlisle. I was…I was horrid to you. I’ve no excuse to offer.”
He only glared at her for a moment before moving past her and addressing his father. “Are you in need of anything before I return to our guests, Father?” he asked.
“Not at all, Mason. I’m well enough.”
Mason nodded and turned to leave. “Come now, Miss Shea,” he said, taking her arm. “Let us leave him to my mother and his rest.”
“Good night, my dove. Mason,” the man called from his bed. Cassidy shivered suddenly as an odd, deeply empty chill overtook her momentarily. He would be lost to them, and in the near future. Cassidy felt it all too deeply.
Mason closed the door behind them as they left the room. The moment they were in the corridor alone once more, he again pushed her rather roughly up against the wall. “We cannot banter like this every waking moment of the day and night, Miss Shea!” he commanded in a firm whisper. “What will it serve you that I should do…what can I possibly do to prove myself committed?”
“You’ve not done anything to prove otherwise, sir,” Cassidy admitted quietly, looking away from him guiltily. “I am sorry for my behavior toward you, but I’m in unfamiliar surroundings. No companion, no confidant. My only source of strength is in me. I cannot judge you for where you may have chosen to place your heart and affections…and I should not accuse you of certain things. But do not deny to me that she’s in your mind. And please do not flaunt her beauty and your regard for her in front of others. If I cannot save my reputation, prideful though it may seem to strive to do so, then I have no strength to endure.”
Mason looked away for a moment as if fighting the inclination to argue with her. Then, turning back to her, he placed one hand firmly on the wall next to her head and said, “I apologize for teasing you about your…about this,” he said, running his thumb lightly over the small mole above her lip. “I see now that it’s a source of great distress for you. And I’m sorry for that fact. For in reality, it’s quite intriguing and enhances your beauty,” he whispered.
Cassidy’s heart began to pound furiously, for his eyes were suddenly softened, his voice warm and deep as he spoke and his mouth tantalizingly close to her own. Did he truly think her pleasing to his man’s eye? He had only just said as much, but could it be?
“In fact,” he continued, “it causes one to wonder how it would feel to…” The one hand still supporting his weight by way of the wall, his other hand suddenly firmly took hold of her shoulder, his face nearer to hers than it had ever been. His breath was warm and enticing as his mouth lingered a breath away from her own. He meant to kiss her! Everything that composed her essence screamed the fact to her mind and heart. Mason Carlisle would kiss her did she not escape. And she did not want escape, except that she feared she would faint there before him at actually receiving his kiss. An instant before he would have kissed her, she turned her face to one side. His hand left her shoulder and cupped her chin firmly. Slowly he turned her face toward his own again. Cassidy could not take breath as his gaze bore into her own. He was so magnificently attractive! Every gorgeous line of his face, the darkness of his eyes, every trace of him was something any man on earth would envy. Masculine perfection. And what woman on earth could conceivably deny him anything?
Ever so slowly, his head descended toward hers until he was so close she could no longer see him clearly and closed her eyes against the vision of him. She startled and tried to move away from him when she felt the first warm brush of his lips on her face. Indeed, she feared in that moment that she might indeed die! So exhilarating was the sensation of his soft kiss there, just exactly at the spot where her despised mole was, that indeed her arms and legs went numb. Mason Carlisle had kissed her! And even for the fact that he had not even met her mouth with his own, his kiss was more stimulating and dream‑borne than anything she could have imagined.
He kissed her there again, and she did not startle so much the second time. Then she felt his thumb at her lower lip and opened her eyes to see him study her mouth briefly before his head descended once more. Lightly, so lightly, he blessed her with the softest of kisses, so lightly that she wasn’t certain at first that he had kissed her. Her entire body began to tremble with anticipation at what his full kiss must indeed hold. Ecstasy would be its full reward, she was certain.
Cassidy swallowed with difficulty, for the moisture in her mouth was abundant with desire for his kiss. In that moment, she cared not that he had in the past kissed another—cared not that perhaps Gabrielle dominated his thoughts and pained his heart. He was
there with her in that moment. His hand held her face. His eyes saw her. His lips felt those of Cassidy Shea. The next instant she had no doubt that he had kissed her, for his mouth captured hers more firmly, and she sensed his lips parting as the promise of deeper affection.
“Oomph!” he grunted suddenly as she felt his body falling away from hers. Startled, Cassidy opened her eyes to see Mason on the floor to one side of her, Mathias standing full on his chest, panting happily into his master’s face, tail wagging delightedly. “Mathias, you devil!” Mason chuckled, reaching up and scratching behind the dog’s ears approvingly.
Keeping her body pressed firmly back against the wall, Cassidy began to sidestep in the opposite direction. Her moment to escape would be brief. Should she linger with him, the handsome, alluring man with the magnificent smile, she would be undone. And she would not be what Gabrielle had cursed her to be. She would not be miserable her entire life for want of his love. She would not! But if she stayed now and let him take her fully in his arms, there would be no turning from it.
“For pity’s sake, Mason!” Devonna exclaimed as she rounded the corner, startling Cassidy so that her hand clutched at her bosom, for her heart felt it could take no more surprises that night. “Quit rolling around half dressed on the floor with that confounded dog in front of Cassidy!”
“Mathias is Miss Shea’s champion this evening. Is he not?” Mason said to them both. Cassidy could not respond. She simply stood, watching him get up and dust off his trousers.
“You look so tired, my darling,” Devonna said to Cassidy. “Why don’t you retire and I’ll make an excuse for you with the Ashmores. And you,” she addressed her son, “restore yourself to some semblance of appropriateness and return with me to the library after I’ve seen to your father.” Turning to Cassidy once more, she said, “Good night, dear. I am certain we will…” She paused and seemed to be looking at Cassidy’s shoulder. “Oh, my darling! What is this?” she exclaimed. “Do you see this, Mason? The poor girl is a bundle of nerves! Just look at this rash here. Look at it! All down the left side of her neck and shoulder. Oh, my darling! I will send Katie up right away with some cool water and a cloth. This is terrible. Darling, I am so sorry that we have put you through all this.” Cassidy glanced down at her shoulder to witness, indeed, an odd rash that had formed there. “Whatever could have caused this?” Devonna worried.
Shackles of Honor Page 15