Romancing the Rogue (162 page)

Carolina's high-pitched shriek was the equivalent of an ice bath, jerking John straight from a lusty haze and extinguishing his ardor.

“Did I hurt you?” he asked, his face heating in embarrassment at such a stupid question. Of course, he'd hurt her. The tears coursing down her cheeks weren't put there by feelings of joy, of that, he was quite certain; but why? Though not something he'd like to admit to anyone, he'd once witnessed a couple engaged in coitus, and she hadn't reacted this way when her partner had entered her in such a manner. In fact, she'd acted just the opposite, shrieking in what John assumed to be pleasure, not pain.

“I'm sorry,” she said on a sob.

John wiped away the tears from her cheek. “You have no need to be sorry. I do. I should have...” He had no idea what he should have done differently, and perhaps that was the bigger problem. He separated their bodies, and instantly his eyes widened and his arms trembled in time with Carolina's lower lip as he caught sight of the blood. It wasn't a lot, thank heavens, but there was clearly a little puddle of it on the sheets that hadn't been there before.

His heart ached with guilt for the pain he'd caused her. “That bath will be here shortly,” he whispered, pulling her onto his lap.

“John, we can continue, if you'd like.”

He let out a harsh bark of laughter. There was no way that would be possible now. “That's not necessary.”

“Isn't it though?”

John brushed a kiss on her brow and pulled the sheet up over them. “No.”

“But isn't that what has to happen for us to have children?”

A hard knot formed in his stomach. She was right, of course. They'd have to try again if they wanted children. “That's not important tonight, Carolina. We still have plenty of time to worry about having children.”

She shifted in his hold, which would have sent him into a state of need in a second only a few minutes ago, but now only served to make him loosen his hold on her until she was more comfortable. “Of course, we have plenty of time; but how much time did you plan to wait?”

“Enough,” he bit off. Before he'd left for America, Edward had initiated yet another conversation with him about what he should expect to encounter on his wedding night. And just like all the other times Edward had tried to have this discussion with him, he'd declared there was no need for Edward to explain anything to him
—
he knew all he needed to know already
—
and left before Edward could ruin John's good image of Regina. Now, he wished he'd listened rather than relied on the memory of what he'd witnessed that dreadful night long ago.

“The bath is here.” Carolina's murmured words brought John from his thoughts.

John called for the servant to enter and simultaneously held the sheet over Carolina as tightly as he could so not an inch of skin beneath her chin could be seen.

As soon as the bath was filled and the servant was gone, John released the sheet and stood up. He carried her to the copper tub that had been placed in the middle of the room and set her down next to it.

He held her hand as she stepped into the steaming tub, then dropped to his knees beside the tub. He lifted her leg closest to him and propped it up so her ankle rested on the far rim of the tub. Not yet able to meet her eyes, he picked up the cake of soap that had been left with the tub, dunked it under the water, and spun it around in his hand until he'd worked up thick, creamy lather, then set the soap down and ran his sudsy hand up her exposed calf.

“I didn't mean to hurt you,” he said as much for his benefit as for hers. “I'd never intentionally do anything to bring you pain.”

She placed her hand on top of his, stilling his movements. “I know that. It truly wasn't that bad, John. We could have continued.”

He brushed his lips across her row of knuckles. “You don't have to say that to make me feel better. I saw your tears, Carolina. I know it hurt. We can wait for another time.”

Carolina pulled her hand from his and dropped it back into the tub. “I don't know what waiting will accomplish. Surely, now that I know what to expect, I can prepare myself for it and it won't feel so much like a battering ram.”

John choked. Then coughed. “Carolina, while I am flattered you'd compare my rod to such a large and powerful piece of military equipment, you shouldn't have to prepare yourself so it won't hurt. It shouldn't have hurt the first time.”

“And you'd know this based on your vast experience?” she asked, lifting her brows.

He turned his attention back to her leg. “I'm physically no more experienced than you,” he said unevenly. He forced himself to meet her eyes again. “But like other boys, I did have my curiosities, which I fulfilled. Or at least I thought I did,” he added, mumbling.

“I'm getting the impression this is another one of those topics about which I don't want the details,” she said, her face turning a pale pink.

“I'd say it fits firmly in that category,” he agreed, relief flooding him at her easy dismissal of the topic. He
would
tell her, just not tonight. For as bold and carefree as she seemed to be, this was not something any new bride wanted to hear on her wedding night.

Carolina shifted in the tub, splashing a bit of water over the edge and onto him. Her far leg relaxed and fell open, revealing herself completely to him. He tried not to stare, but that was like asking a man dying of thirst to wait an hour longer for a glass of water.

Moving slow so not to startle or hurt her more than he already had, he ran his hand behind her knee and then along the inside of her thigh.

She sighed and lowered her lashes, her head falling back against the back of the tub. He moved his fingers closer to her body's core. With his free hand, he reached up and combed his fingers through the side of her long, silky hair that hung over the back of the tub while he brushed the fingertips of the hand still in the tub against the outer edge of her most intimate area. Her breath hitched, and consequently so did his.

He did it again, applying more pressure this time. Her eyes remained closed, but her breath hitched again, accompanied by a quiet, suppressed groan.

Blood fired in John's veins, and he became bolder in his touches, rubbing here and massaging there, with no set pattern or pace. He feasted on the sight of Carolina's budded, pink nipples rising in and out of the water each time her body bucked and arched in response to his touch. With a silent prayer he wouldn't ruin everything, he slid a finger inside of her. She stilled. He thought she might request he stop touching her and started to remove his hand on his own accord, but stopped only when she rasped, “Don't go.”

“Never,” he whispered, not trusting his voice to speak louder. He pushed back in as far as he could, then slid out, imitating the movements he'd made earlier using another part of his anatomy. Her skin flushed and she bit her lip as he pushed forward again. “Do you like this?”

“Yes.” Her response broken, ragged.

He increased his rhythm and was rewarded with a sweet sigh in the midst of her labored breathing. Her left hand gripped the edge of the tub and her right found his shoulder to hold onto, as if without it, she'd fall into the tub a boneless heap and drown. Her nails bit into his skin, bringing him the most enjoyable pain he'd ever experienced. “That's it, Carolina,” he encouraged as her hips bucked wildly, matching his thrusts. He slipped his arm behind her neck to keep her from hitting her head on the edge of the tub as a result of her fevered movements. “Fall; I have you.”

Just then, she did. Her nails dug even deeper into his skin, and her body tensed, then spasmed. He slowed his movements, but held his position until she opened her dazed eyes.

“I—I— D-did you— Have you—”

John kissed her parted lips to put an end to her incoherent stammering. When he pulled back, that faraway look was still in her velvet brown eyes and her face was still flushed with pleasure. Wordlessly, he lifted her from the tub and dried her off, then carried her to the bed.

Carolina's breath caught as her husband covered her body with his own. He whispered soft words of love in her ear before his lips found hers again. He kissed the center of her lips, then the corner, and then made a path of kisses all the way down to her jaw; his hands skimmed up and down her sides, his fingers brushing every inch of her they could touch, from the bottom curve of her breasts to the dips just above her hips, searing her with each pass. His kisses became more urgent, as did his caresses. He reached his right hand up to cover as much of her breast as would fit in his palm, then squeezed. Sparks of desire fired through her, and she pressed her breast more firmly against him, silently praying he'd do it again and again.

He shifted, releasing her breast as he repositioned himself. The arrogant man dared to smile when she whimpered at his absence.

She placed her hands on his shoulders, bracing herself for his intrusion.

This time, he pushed inside slowly taking great care to be gentle. Her muscles grew tense the further in he went and the more her body had to stretch to accommodate him. When at last she didn't think she could take anymore, he stopped moving and held still, holding her gaze.

She refused to ruin everything again with another outburst, but she'd be lying if she didn't admit it was uncomfortable
—
but not nearly as painful as last time, to be sure.

“I'm going to move now.”

His strangled voice sent a surge of feminine pride like she'd never experienced before through her. She loved it that she could have this affect on him. That she, Carolina, could make his eyes take on this intense gleam of want, turn his body rigid with need, and cause his breath to become ragged with desire. More than that, she loved knowing she'd be the one to fulfill his wants, needs and desires for the rest of their lives.

A moment later, her thoughts of love and his desire and fulfillment were gone, replaced instead with wonder at how his movements had gone from causing her discomfort to suddenly bringing her the same internal pressure she'd felt when he'd touched her in the tub. She squeezed his shoulders, a silent command for him to move faster, harder.

He did, and her hips bucked on their own accord to meet his movement. A shower of hot sparks shot through her, followed only a split-second later by another round when he thrust again. Carolina groaned his name and tightened her grip on him until she was certain he'd have two hand-shaped bruises on his shoulders before the night was through.

She matched his movements, thrust for thrust, passion for passion. The pressure in her midsection mounted more with each of his strokes until finally she couldn't contain it anymore, and with a muffled cry against his shoulder, the most delicious pleasure swept over her, taking her
—
and him
—
into that delirious state of completion.

Breathless, they both fell to the pillows in a sweaty, tangled heap.

“I do believe I shall enjoy this aspect of marriage more than I originally thought,” Carolina said between deep breaths.

“Comparing my tool to a battering ram and complimenting my prowess in bed, you certainly know a thing or two about flattery, m'dear,” he said, rolling off to the side and propping himself up on his elbow.

“No, not flattery, just practicing your near honesty,” she said with a wink.

Something unnameable flashed in John's eyes. “'Near honesty', you say? Perhaps now would be a good time to perfect my deficiencies.”

Carolina ran the back of her index finger along the edge of his stubble-covered jaw. “Promise?”

“That, and more,” he said with a savage growl before proceeding to show her he was the sort of man who made good on his promises—no matter how deliciously wicked they were.

If Carolina didn't have a spawn in nine months, John would need no further proof to convince himself that she was barren.

“Will clothes be optional for breakfast again this morning?” she asked when he rounded the dressing screen after his bath wearing precisely the same thing he'd been wearing before his bath: nothing. Come to think of it, for the entire week they'd been married, neither of them had worn anything, except when he'd gone downstairs to request their meals be sent up and when a modiste had come to visit four days ago to take Carolina's measurements.

“Absolutely.” His grin at the sight of her lounging naked on the bed faded a hint. “But we'll have to be fully dressed for lunch, I'm afraid.”

Carolina climbed out of bed and padded over to him. She skimmed her hands down his chest and stomach, then toward his waist. “Must we?”

He lowered his lashes and swallowed but didn't move to stop her wandering fingertips. “I suppose you could dine naked for lunch, but I doubt you'll want to. Today we need to go see your father and collect your things.”

Carolina dropped her hand and scowled. “Can't we stay here a few days longer?”

John shook his head. It was only because Gabriel had given him half the price they'd agreed Hammond was worth that he'd had enough funds to pay for the hotel. He needed to deliver Hammond to Gabriel to complete the sale and collect the other half of the money so they'd have enough funds for passage to England, where a place to stay and a job waited for him. “No, I'm afraid not. Is something wrong?”

The tip of her pink tongue darted out and licked her lips. “No. Not wrong. I just don't want to see them again, that's all.”

“But you need your clothes, and I need to make good on a promise I made to Gabriel,” John pointed out. He stepped closer to her until there were only mere inches between them and brought his hands to her face, caressing her cheeks with his thumbs. “Besides, we're married now. Your mother has no control over you any longer. You're mine now, and if I haven't proven that to you already, I'd be glad to give you another demonstration.”

She smiled and shook her head. “I think you've demonstrated that fact quite adequately already. It's just—” She shrugged. “They'll all know we've been alone together for the last week.”

“Indeed.”

Carolina pressed her forehead against his chest.

“Surely you're not actually worried about that, are you?” He tipped her face up toward him, marveling at what a strange, complex creature she was. Before they'd married, he thought her incapable of being embarrassed or put off by anything. Apparently, she was a good actress. “Almost every new bride has to face her family, Carolina. Nobody will think poorly of you. We were married. That's all that matters.”

A peal of her throaty laughter filled the room and sent a hot tendril of desire to coil in his gut. “I don't care about
that
. It's Bethel.”

“Bethel?” What did she have to do with anything?

Carolina seemed to find something about the wooden floor plank under their feet vastly amusing. “I'm sure she paid dearly when I disappeared the first time. I'm afraid if I go back, Mother might take her anger out on her again.”

John pulled her in a tight hug. “I won't let that happen, Carolina.” He didn't know what he'd be able to do to prevent it, but he'd think of something. “Now, let's have breakfast then we'll get ready to go.”

The solemn look on Carolina's face during breakfast tore at his heart. She was truly worried. Of course she was. Bethel was more of a mother to her than her own mother was.

After they finished their meal, John excused himself behind the screen and came back with a small parcel. “I hope it fits,” he said, handing it to her.

Carolina's slender fingers freed the knot in the twine and pulled the paper away. “When did this arrive?” she gushed, grabbing the top of the folded gown that had been delivered.

“Not long ago,” John said evasively, shrugging.

Carolina swatted at his shoulder. “You weren't hiding it, were you?”

“Of course not; what kind of husband do you think I am?”

“The kind who likes to see his wife spend her days dressed in the same costume she wore when she entered the world.”

“You can't blame me, can you?” he asked, sweeping her naked body with his eyes. “What man would want his wife to cover her body when it's as beautiful as yours?”

Her skin grew pink. “That will be enough of that.”

He laughed at the way her voice hitched on those words. “You know you wouldn't want me any other way.”

She came up on her toes and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. “You're right. I wouldn't want you any other way. But that doesn't mean I want to go see my parents today.”

“Don't worry, Carolina. It'll be fine.”

***

He couldn't have been more wrong. Everything was
not
fine.

In fact, it was the furthest thing from fine as something could possibly be.

“What did you say?” John demanded of Gabriel, stealing the words straight from Carolina's sputtering lips.

Gabriel took a deep, unsteady breath and handed John a tattered copy of the
City Gazette,
one of Charleston's most prominent newspapers.

John snatched the paper from Gabriel and started reading while Carolina peeked over his shoulder, trying to make sense of what they'd just been told. Surely Gabriel had been mistaken, hadn't he?

“I don't believe this,” John whispered as the paper slipped from his fingers and drifted to the floor. He swallowed hard and scrubbed his face with his fingers.

Another wave of nausea washed over Carolina. Gabriel's claim was true. They'd not actually met with the real Mr. Murphy who was rumored to help young lovers marry under the blanket of darkness, but with the man who was pretending to be him and tricking unsuspecting lovers into paying him for services he was not authorized to perform.

“I don't see why you wouldn't believe it,” Mother said. “It would seem that you'd understand a member of your own kind better than any of us.”

John tensed and speared her with his icy gaze. “Madam, has it occurred to you that had I known I did not legally marry your daughter I wouldn't have brought her by to see you?” His tone held a sharp edge Carolina had never heard before.

“Didn't you wonder why you weren't given a certificate?” a pale faced Gabriel asked quietly.

“I didn't even think about it,” Carolina said defensively. “I've never been married before, how was I supposed to know what to expect?”

Mother twisted her lips as if she'd just bitten into a lemon. “Either way—”

“That's enough, Mrs. Ellis,” Father said. “The fact is, they're not actually married. There's nothing we can do to change what's already happened, instead we need to discuss what will happen now.”

“We'll go back to town and make it right,” John said easily.

“You most certainly will not
,
” Mother said. “If you didn't do things right the first time, what makes you think I'll trust you to do right by her now?”

John bristled. “I didn't know that man was a fraud. I went to the address Gabriel gave me. How was I to know I was meeting with an impostor?”

“I don't know. But this wouldn't have been a problem had you married her the right way the first time and not run away like the thief that you are,” Mother retorted.

Color rose in John's cheeks, but he ignored her accusation. “And had I asked for her hand, would my request have been accepted?” The challenge in John's voice matched the one in his eyes.

“Well, no,” Mother said airily. “You are a completely unsuitable choice for my daughter. She might not have had a chance to reel in the finest catch Charleston has to offer due to her unbecoming behavior and unimaginable interest in an English vagrant such as yourself, but she still had prospects; something that you've once again managed to rob her of.”

“Rob me?” Carolina argued. “If the prospect you speak of is Charlie Fields, then I'd say he did Charlie a great favor.”

“You'd be the one to think so,” Mother said; her voice mixed with pity and condemnation. “But you’re charitable—”

“Mrs. Ellis yous hab a vis'tor,” Bethel said, coming to the open door of the parlor. Her solemn voice and swollen cheeks tore at Carolina's heart.

She swallowed the emotion in her throat and blinked back the tears in her eyes. Bethel had paid a heavy penalty for Carolina's behavior. And likely, it wasn't just once. John's knuckles brushed her arm, giving her an unexplainable amount of comfort.

“Have our guest wait...” Mother exhaled, casting a sharp glance at both Father and Gabriel who slept in the informal parlor due to their injuries. “Send them in, I suppose.”

“Yessum.”

“If you'll excuse us,” John began, taking Carolina's hand in his, “we'll leave you to your company now.”

“No,” Gabriel said. “I know you mean to do right by her, John, and this is partly my own fault; but as her brother, I cannot let her be seen leaving here with you.”

“You do realize she was just seen riding in
—
on the same horse
—
with me?”

Gabriel nodded. “That was unavoidable. But I will not
—
no
cannot
—
let her be seen that way again. It might start some unsavory rumor.”

An inappropriate burble of laughter escaped Carolina at Gabriel's implication. Or perhaps it was at the look of disbelief stamped on John's face.

“You cannot be serious,” John said. “I intend to make things right, Gabriel. Nobody who will see us today will be of any import once we're in England.”

“Is that so?” drawled a masculine voice from the door. “I happen to know a certain English Lord and Lady who some consider to be important. I believe you know them, too.”

John spun around, his eyes wide with shock. “Edward? What are you doing here?”

Edward, who resembled John with his blond hair, blue eyes and tilted smile, came farther into the parlor, silently ushering a petite lady and a small child in with him. “I came to see my brother. I wasn't aware that had become a crime.”

“It's not. Is everything all right?”

Edward waved him off. “We'll talk about my news later. I'm far more curious about the situation you've created where you're intending to make things right, Trouble.”

Though his brother smiled as he said those words, John didn't. “You're not helping matters, Edward.”

Edward's smile faded and he looked over to where Mother stood with a look on her face that might suggest she was suffering a condition that made her unable to use the chamberpot without the help of herbs. “John, are you in any real trouble?”

“I'd say so,” Mother answered for him.

“And just what crime has my brother committed?” John's brother asked, his tone and expression cool as could be.

Mother cast him a look of icy disdain. “Abduction.”

Edward didn't show a hint of emotion, just turned his eyes back to John.

“I'll explain when we're on the ship bound for England, but believe me when I tell you it's not nearly as bad as she's claiming.”

Edward lifted his eyebrows, but didn't speak. “I hope you're right, because abduction is certainly a damnable offense.”

A loud gasp rent the air. “You said damn,” a little boy no more than three or four said in a stage whisper; his brown eyes wide with wonder. “Mama said damn's a bad word and that gentlemen shouldn't say damn in front of ladies.”

Carolina smiled at the boy's mother whose face was now as red as her gown. “Alex,” the other woman said gently.

He blinked up at his mother. “But you told me damn—”

“I know what I told you; but Papa didn't say that, he said damnable.”

The boy's eyebrows drew together, and his mother threw a pleading glance at her husband who shrugged in response.

Ignoring everyone else in the room, John sank to his haunches in front of the little boy. “Damn is a naughty word because it implies you're condemning something because you're angry and annoyed, and you have no regard whatsoever for what your cursing. Damnable just means something that can be condemned.”

“But both condemn,” the little boy pointed out, his brows puckering.

“It's how it's used,” John further explained. “When your Papa storms around Watson Estate mumbling about having to spend the whole damn afternoon with Lady Sinclair, he's being very naughty and deserves punishment for subjecting the rest of us to his foul language—not to mention his disagreeable temperament at the time. But as your mama pointed out, he didn't say damn, he said damnable; which means he thinks it'd be easy to condemn my actions based on the accusation that I abducted your Aunt Carolina.”

Carolina's heart didn't know whether to flutter at his styling her as “Aunt Carolina” or melt at the way he interacted with the boy.

“I still think he needs to apologize for saying damn,” the little boy declared.

“Oh, all right,” Edward blustered, shaking his head. “I apologize if I've offended anyone.”

“It's of no account, Mr. Banks,” Mother said crisply. “Your word selection was not nearly as unforgivable as your son's free use of such a vulgar word. Perhaps you ought to spend a little more time instructing your son as to what's acceptable to say in public—”