A Heart Possessed

by Katherine Sutcliffe

  "Miss Rushdon?" he whispered. Or so it seemed. My ears hummed with the silence.

  "Yes," I responded. Then I saw Nick. He stood with Jim near the chancel, his face pale, his black hair damp and tousled, his wide shoulders sporting a black mantle that swept to his knees. Sketching a slight curtsy, I «aid, "My lord, I'm sorry we're late. There was a problem with a wheel ..."

  He moved toward us with spectral grace. As he neared, I noticed his gaze was fixed not on me but on Brabbs. He examined my friend with expressionless gray eyes, then his lips pulled back against his teeth, and he growled, "Get out,"

  I felt Brabbs tense behind me. Stepping forward, I said, "But, my lord—-"

  He nudged me aside and looked down into Brabbs's face. "You bloody bastard, what are you doing here?"

  “Please, sir," the priest intruded, "remember where you are, Lord Malham."

  "I asked you a question," Nick said. "I'm delivering the girl to Satan," he responded.

  Nick drew back his hand and slapped Brabbs across his face. I sprang for his arm. "Stop!" I cried. "Why have you done such a thing?"

  His piercing eyes took in my frantic features. "Who is he to you?"

  "My friend. My only friend in this world. If you hurt him you hurt me. He has never harmed you—"

  "No? He comes to my home in a fit of rage and accuses me of murder, of killing Maggie, not to mention my wife, and you say he has done nothing to harm me? He threatened to take Kevin away from me, Ariel."

  I looked back at Brabbs. "Is this true?" I asked.

  Aye, it's true," Brabbs responded, rubbing his cheek. "It's true and I'd do it again tomorrow given the same circumstances."

  "Here, now." The clergyman stepped between them. "This is a place of God, gentlemen. Remember, my lord, why we are here. This is your wedding day, sir. It should be a happy occasion for us all." He stepped up to Nick and took his arm. "Please, Your Lordship, for the sake of your bride-to-be."

  Nicholas gave Brabbs one last withering look before turning to me. Forcing myself to remain calm, I took his arm and walked with him through the nave. A white bolt of doubt sluiced through me as I recalled the sudden violence in his manner, the viciousness in his tone toward Brabbs. I could yet feel the pent savagery in the flexed muscle beneath my hand. How much would— could—he take before snapping?

  Once reaching the chancel, Nicholas turned to face me. His hands came up, fumbled a moment with the fastening of my cloak, then slipped the garment from my shoulders and tossed it onto the pew behind me. Dropping his hands to his side, he stepped away and ran his gaze over my dress.

  "Nice," he said. "Very nice." Then looking back to my eyes, a smile twisting one corner of his mouth, he added, "But you might try smiling, my love. This is your wedding day, is it not?"

  My throat was suddenly tight. I tried speaking but couldn't. I felt a sinking sensation in my stomach as if I had unexpectedly stepped over a cliff in the dark and was plummeting into the very pits of hell. For certainly at that moment I felt as if I were looking into Satan's eyes.

  As my lord's hands came up slowly and released his own cloak, Jim stepped up behind him and slid it off his shoulders. My breath left me, for I had never seen him so handsome, or so threatening. His coat was of rich olive-green velvet embroidered with black silk fleurs-de-lis. His satin breeches were of the same color. Beneath the coat he wore a white lawn shirt, and white lace ruffles cascaded down his chest and from beneath the cuffs of his coat. The dress I had made now seemed too simple, too plain, and I suddenly felt a wave of humiliation wash over me. I recalled Brabbs's reminding me that I was not of Wyndham's class. I had never felt it so acutely as I did in that moment.

  Nicholas took my hand in his firm fingers, slowly lifted it to his lips. With his kiss I felt my reservations begin to thaw, and I smiled. "Shall we get on with it, my lord?" I was pleased to hear my voice sound steady.

  "By all means," he responded. He turned to face the clergyman, pulling me closer to his side.

  "Shall we begin?" the minister asked.

  I looked up at Nicholas as he nodded.

  The minister stood before us, an open Bible in his hands, a small gold ring placed on one of the pages. 11 is resonant voice echoed about the sacred chamber as he began the service with a prayer. I listened intently, repeating each Amen the minister whispered.

  The room became colder as he ended his prayer. The hem of the minister's cossack fluttered in a sudden breeze as did my skirt and the thin wisps of hair I had curled about my face. The reverend paused and looked about the nave before asking, "If anyone knows any reason why this man and woman should not be lawfully in marriage, speak it now or forever hold your peace."

  I saw Nick's head turn toward Brabbs. I held my breath.

  As the reverend's fingers nervously nudged the ring the Bible, the seconds clipped by, seeming like hours. Brabbs shifted from one foot to the other; from the corner of my eye I saw a thin wisp of vapor leave his mouth as he released his breath. "Very well/* came the minister's words. I closed my eyes in relief.

  After we repeated our vows Nicholas slipped the ring onto my finger, looking down into my eyes as the minister said, "By the authority vested in me and in the name of God Almighty, I pronounce you man and wife/* Gently shutting his book, he smiled at my husband and added, "My lord, you may kiss your bride." The cold tip of Nick's finger caught my chin and tipped up my face. He brushed the corner of my mouth with his lips, then he turned away.

  There were documents to sign. By the time we were prepared to leave the church, a light snow had begun to fall. We stood on the steps outside the nave, waiting as the Wyndham coach was brought up from the stables. Pulled by coal-black beasts with arched necks and high-prancing hooves, the ebony post chaise stopped before us.

  My husband stood at my side, the clouds around us intensifying the cold gray of his eyes as he looked out over the countryside. He smoothed his leather gloves over his hands before looking down at me. "Lady Mai-ham/' he said. "You may bid your friend adieu now." My heart set up a rapid pounding in my breast as I turned to Brabbs. He looked suddenly older, his eyes sadder than I had ever seen them. "Be happy," he said, but before he could take me in his arms Nicholas clamped his gloved hand on my shoulder and pulled me away.

  Through the mist and snow I saw the chaise door open. My lord caught my arm in a firm grip as I lifted my skirts and mounted the steps into the coach. Then Nicholas mounted behind me.

  Settling back into the leather cushions, I took one last glance out the door before it shut in my face. I glimpsed Brabbs and Jim walking to Brabbs's buggy. ''Jim is not coming with us, my lord?"

  "No" was his simple response.

  I With a crack of a whip, the coach lurched into mo-(ion and I settled again into my seat. Nicholas sat directly across from me, his legs casually open, swaying slightly with the motion of the chaise. "So," he said, shattering the quiet. "How does it feel to be Lady Mai-ham, Lady Malham?"

  I looked to his face, expecting to find some humor there. I was met instead with grim gray eyes and a deep furrow between his arching black brows. "Grand, I think, sir."

  "You may discontinue speaking to me in that subservient manner. You are an equal now, remember."

  "Yes, sir. I mean, yes, my lord . . . yes, Nicholas." I bit my lip. This is going to take some doing, I thought, looking back to his chilly eyes, I said, "Sir. Have I displeased you in some way?"

  "What do you mean? Do I appear displeased?"

  "Yes, you do. You hardly seem gay about our marriage. Are you angry because of Brabbs?"

  "I wonder what you are doing with him."

  "He's only a friend. A long-time family friend."

  “I don't like him."

  “I’m sorry."

  "I don't want you to see him again." My heart stopped. "But—but he is my friend. I love Brabbs like—"

  His eyes suddenly flashed like fire, cutting off my words. A muscle quivered in his cheek as he said, "As my wife you are to obey me, Ariel. If I
decide to drag you kicking and screaming to the top of the cove and tell you to jump, you will do so. Do you understand me?"

  I felt the blood drain from my face. Hot anger burned in the pit of my stomach. "Nay, I do not understand! You are my husband, yes, but not my master, if I am indeed your equal. If being your wife means I am to live night and day under the thumb of a tyrant, you may turn this coach about and return me to Burnsall. We will dissolve this marriage now before we both come to regret our rashness." I made a move toward the door.

  "Sit down” he ordered me.

  I moved again.

  He caught my arm and shoved me back in the seat.

  The rumble of the coach-wheel and the clop of the horses' hooves sounded eerie, echoing against the wall of fog that swirled around us. Nicholas neither moved nor blinked as he apparently considered my words. Then, taking a deep breath, he relaxed into the seat and flicked open the buttons of his coat. "Do you like the ring?" he asked, his voice yet tight, but his tone more congenial.

  My nerves, however, were still on edge. Instinctively I closed the fingers of my right hand over the wedding band. "Aye, I like it," I snapped.

  One end of his mouth curled up. "It belonged to my grandmother on my father's side. It's a big large, I see."

  "A bit." I spun it around my finger.

  "I'll have it measured and cut down. Unless, of course, you wish for me to turn back for Burnsall. I won't stop you again if that's what you want."

  I did not respond. At that moment I did not know what I wanted.

  Nicholas looked out the window, lost in thought. His handsome face was partially in shadow, chin, mouth and nose barely visible; broad, high cheekbones were hi by dim daylight and his eyes were dark and grave. I was stunned, as he began to softly recite in a deep and melodious voice:

  I thought, O my love, you were so—

  As the sun or the moon on a fountain, And I thought after that you were snow,

  The cold snow on top of the mountain. And I thought after that you were more like God's lamp shining to find me, Or the bright star of knowledge before,

  Or the star of knowledge behind me. He looked in my eyes and smiled. "It's an old Irish love song."

  "I know."

  "You're part Irish, I think."

  "Aye," I responded. "My mother was from Ireland."

  "I knew it. The hair and the eyes gave you away . . . come here, Ariel. Come here, I won't hurt you." When I didn’t budge, he pressed his lips and frowned. "Very well, then. I'm sorry I hit your friend. Does that appease you?"

  "Little."

  Lacing his fingers over his flat stomach, he rested his head back on the leather seat and stared at the roof. "I reacted rashly where Brabbs was concerned. I admit it. But sometimes, Ariel, I cannot help how I act I'm sorry. You knew that before you married me. I warned you."

  I .stared at my wedding ring and whispered, "Aye, you warned me."

  His head came up; a wave of dark hair spilled nearly to his eyes. "Regrets?" he asked.

  "In truth, it is not how I dreamed of my wedding day."

  He leaned toward me suddenly and caught my face in his fingers. "I've made you cry," he stated angrily. Shifting onto the seat beside me, he curled his arm around my waist and lifted me onto his lap. Cupping my face in his palm, he frowned. "I'm sorry if I hurt you. Do you think I would intentionally cause you pain? Well? Answer me, dammit, and stop trembling there like a sparrow with a broken wing."

  He curled his fingers more gently around my chin, tipping my head back, and the sweet ache of love bloomed anew in my heart and blood as I looked into his dark eyes. Tilting his head to one side, he brushed his mouth against mine, once, twice, then with a low growl he covered my mouth completely with his. Melting against him I opened my lips, submissive as he thrust his tongue into my mouth and crushed me to him so fiercely I gasped.

  My husband. The ecstasy brought by my silent repetition of those words beat inside me with as much passion as his kiss. I did tremble, but with longing and not fear.

  Grasping my shoulders, he lifted his head and looked into my eyes. "Do you know," he began in a voice thick with desire, "that when we made love the other night, it was like the first time for me. My god, I've wanted you since. I want you now."

  I felt his hand move up my back, expertly unfastening the bodice of my gown. Loosened, it fell forward over the swells of my breasts, partially down my arms, trapping them against me. Then he tore it away from my breasts completely, releasing me into his hand. As he rubbed his palm gently across my nipple I closed my eyes, feeling the sensitive sphere swelling and hardening with desire. "My lord," I finally managed, "do you think it wise?"

  "Wise and necessary," he murmured. "Very necessary." Then he buried his face against my breast, took the high, hard point in his mouth and circled it achingly slow with his tongue. Gently, so I barely noticed, he shifted me about until I straddled his lap. He spread his legs farther until I lay pressed intimately against the rise of his need, then he slipped his hand under my skirt and touched me.

  He felt me flinch but continued, weaving magic with the rhythm of his fingers until I was whimpering and grinding my hips against his, all reason gone, driven away by this swirling, drowning sensation inside me. "Make love to me, Lady Malham," I heard him say, and through passion-drowsy eyes I looked down on his face, a face too handsome to be real. Despite the cold outside the coach, a tear of sweat rolled down his temple, and, pressing my mouth against it I drank it in, thinking it sweet as honey. "Make love to me," he repeated, and, catching my hands, he dragged them down to his breeches.

  I flicked the buttons open, one by one, and, once releasing him into my hand, I raised up on my knees, positioned him against me and sank onto him. His hands twisted into my dress, my hair. Burying his face against my breast, he smothered the sharp gasp and low, savage growl that wedged from his throat. Then, plunging his hands beneath the velvet skirts of my wedding dress, he gripped my buttocks in his fingers and pressed me up and then down until the ancient rhythm came naturally to us both.

  He felt strong as steel and as soft as velvet inside me, filling me, driving me with each swivel of his hips against mine to certain madness, until I lost all control, all thought of propriety, and abandoned myself to the pleasure and the gratification of pleasing him. And the tension mounted. With each deep thrust inside my body I scaled one step closer. The torment flooded me, building as it did for him, until he was gripping my dress in his fingers and pressing his head back into the seat, his eyes tightly closed and his face immobile with the same exquisite pain as mine.

  I buried my hands first in his hair, then his shirt, twisting my fingers into the fine lawn, shredding it with my nails, moaning, moving until we tumbled together over the barrier. Waves of sensation swept over us, a spiraling, exploding sky of stars that caused us each to cry out in surrender, to cling together until we were drained and limp and complete.

  We rode that way for some time, satisfied with the closeness of just holding each other in our arms, not quite ready to give it up. Here we were alone, sheltered against the madness of the outside world. There was no madness here, none but the maddening love we felt for each other in that moment, so intense it bordered on despair. My head on my husband's shoulder, his arms around me, I closed my eyes and allowed the gentle rocking of the coach to soothe my feverish state. Perhaps we both slept. When I opened my eyes I discovered that he had, at some time, righted my dress and rebuttoned my bodice. Breathing in the virile scent of his flesh, I lifted my head and met his eyes. He looked at me sternly at first, and my heart turned over in fear. Then he began to grin. In a low, silky voice he said, "There'll be no going back to Burnsall now, you know." "I know”

  "You're mine." "Aye."

  "For better or worse." "I vow it."

  "Do you still love me?" "I do."

  "Then say it. I have to hear you say it." "L—I love you, my lord husband, now and always." He took my face in his hands. His eyes burned into mine. "Swear it
." "I swear." The coach stopped. We heard the footman jump to I he ground.

  Nicholas took my hand fiercely in his. "We're home," lie said.

  Chapter 15

  The flush of color in Adrienne's face died, leaving her cheeks very pale. She looked anxiously from Nicholas to Trevor, and then to me. "Married, you say," were her words. "To each other?"

  Nicholas stood before the fire, his eyes on his sister as he rotated a glass of sherry in his hand. There was a certain mischievous belligerence in the tilt of his lips that made me wonder if this marriage had been perpetrated more in the name of spite than in love. Dismissing the thought, I looked at Trevor.

  He regarded me openly from his satin-lined bergere, lifting one brow as my eyes met his. "Well," he said, "this should certainly give the tongues something to wag about."

  "They are wagging already," Nicholas said.

  Trevor smiled.

  I, however, did not. I found it more and more discomforting to sit in these peoples' presence while they assessed the circumstances of our marriage. I wasn't a little surprised then when Trevor asked:

  "Ariel, my dear, are you pregnant?"

  "No," Nick responded. "In any case, that is none of your concern."

  "Just attempting to understand," Trevor responded. "What is there to understand?"

  Leaving his chair, Trevor walked to the fireplace to I';ice his brother. "You have known each other a month, Nick. Less than a month, actually. And considering your present state of mind—"

  "Not to mention the difference in our backgrounds," Nick snapped.

  I looked away, embarrassment burning my cheeks. "There is that obvious difference," Trevor continued. "Hut that is the least of my concern. After all, this is not the first time a Wyndham has married outside his social standing. No, my concern, Nick, is your health. You are fully aware of what you've done?"

  "Fully. I have married the woman I love." I closed my eyes, savoring his words.