Strangers at Dawn (30 page)

“Oh no. Because they got in a fight over you. They were defending your good name. And that’s not the first or the last time they’ve rushed to your defense. Don’t tell them I mentioned it. They would be angry with me if they knew.”

“What? Constance …”

With a triumphant smile, Constance sailed out of the room.

Sara felt sick inside. She remembered how she’d lectured her brothers when they’d told her they were being rusticated for the rest of the term. The fight was over a lady’s honor, Simon had told her, and when Martin would have said more, Simon had cut him off.

She took a few paces around the room as thoughts chased themselves inside her head. At the window, she halted and looked out. There was no light winking at her from Drew’s cottage. He was so nearly a member of the family that she’d wanted him at her wedding, but Simon told her that Drew had gone to Winchester on business.

If only Bea were here, she could advise her. But Bea had refused to come to Longfield because she knew how much she, Sara, had come to depend on her, and she didn’t want to come between husband and wife.

Dear Lord, what had she done?

She sat on the edge of her bed thinking, thinking, thinking.

Nineteen

S
HE WAS ABOUT TO SNUFF OUT THE CANDLES
on the mantelpiece when Max entered. Startled, she blurted out, “What are you doing here?”

He had removed his jacket and was wearing only his white shirt and black trousers. Amused and relaxed, he said, “Where else would I be on my wedding night? I apologize for falling asleep at the dinner table. The ride to Winchester took its toll, but I’m perfectly rested now.”

It wasn’t easy, but she managed a smile. “I understand.” She clasped her hands to conceal their trembling. “Max, about last night …”

“What about last night?”

“I think I may have given you the wrong impression.”

“What impression is that, Sara?”

She couldn’t hold that probing stare, so she turned away and fingered the spray of white roses Anne had given her to carry at her wedding. They were in a vase on a chest of drawers, and as her restless fingers plucked a bud, their sweet scent drenched the air.

“I don’t want this to be a real marriage, Max,” she said.

When she turned from the dresser, he was right in front of her. Her heart was thudding so hard, she wondered if he
could hear it. “I don’t want this to be a real marriage,” she repeated, this time looking directly into his eyes.

He heard the words, but her eyes were telling him a different story. He should be used to it by now. Every time he got close to her, she raised the drawbridge. She didn’t know how to give in gracefully.

She expected masculine umbrage, temper, but he smiled at her with a curious gravity. “You’ll have to do better than that, Sara, or I’ll be forced to call you a liar and a coward.”

Her voice was cool. “The trouble with you, Max, is you’re used to women falling into your arms.”

His brows rose. “You have an exaggerated idea of my conquests. I admit I’ve had passing interests, but I’ve never asked any woman to be my wife.”

Shame suddenly engulfed her. “Oh, Max, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. It’s just that …” She shrugged helplessly.

“Is it because you think I’m a fortune hunter?”

“Of course not. And I apologize for my family. They’ve been beastly to you.”

“Is it because you think I’ll publish the story in my newspaper?”

“Not if you say you won’t.”

“Would I be likely to, now that you’re my wife? Don’t you trust me? What is it, Sara? Tell me.”

He was so close, she could feel the warmth of his body, smell the soap on his skin. Her senses were coming alive. She made a half move to turn away and found that she couldn’t because he had boxed her in.

She inhaled sharply. “Max, you know who I am. I’m Sara Carstairs. I was acquitted of murder, but that means nothing to most people. They still think I’m guilty, and maybe I am. How could you ever be sure?”

“So that’s it.” He smiled fleetingly. “I know you’re innocent, because I know you and they don’t.”

His words were both sweet and chastening, painfully chastening. She had to swallow before going on. “I never
wanted a real marriage. If we were to have children, how could I live with that? The stigma? The shame?”

He ached to gather her in his arms and kiss her fears away. He resisted the impulse because he wanted her to let down the drawbridge of her own free will, without any tricks from him.

He said, “Simon and Martin are coping, aren’t they? I don’t hear them complaining.”

“No, they don’t complain, but they don’t have an easy time of it either.” Her lashes swept down, concealing her expression. “Constance told me that the reason Simon and Martin have been expelled for a term is because they got into a fight defending my good name.” She raised her eyes to his. “Now do you see how it will be?”

He gave her one of those smiles that started on his lips, creased his cheeks, and slowly filled his eyes. “Remind me to shake their hands at breakfast tomorrow.”

Temper heated her eyes. “Max, this is serious.”

“As I am well aware. When did Constance tell you this, by the way?”

“Not long ago, when she helped me undress.”

Now all was becoming clear. “And you had a sudden attack of conscience?”

“I realized how selfish I was, if that’s what you mean. I wasn’t thinking about what was best for you. I was thinking about what was best for me. But it’s not too late. I’m sure we can have the marriage annulled or something.”

There they were again, those silent messages in her eyes that made lies of
all
her words. She was trying to be noble and she was botching the job. He could no more leave her now than cut out his own heart.

Unsmiling, he said softly, “I know what’s best for me, Sara. What I want to know is what’s best for you.”

“What?”

“What do you want, Sara, really want?”

What she wanted was standing right in front of her, his
vivid blue eyes holding hers in a look that stripped away every defense. The candlelight glinted in his fair hair like strands of pure gold. She thought he was the most beautiful man she had ever known.

His hands were by his sides and he made no attempt to touch her. It wasn’t necessary to touch her. He wasn’t trying to hide what he was feeling. He wanted her, and her little speech might as well have remained unsaid.

Her voice was husky. “I don’t want to hurt you, Max.”

“No, but you will. Just as I’ll hurt you. It’s inevitable, Sara, because we’re human. I’m willing to take my chances; how about you?”

He held out his hand, but he didn’t touch her, and she understood that he was giving her a choice. It was a choice no one should have to make. She was shaking her head, but she couldn’t fight her own heart, and her heart made the choice for her.

His hand closed around hers and he pulled her slowly into his arms. On a stifled breath, he said, “There’s no going back now, do you understand? Not tonight. Not ever.”

He said something else, something about a drawbridge that she didn’t understand, then she went on tiptoe and, on a soft sigh of surrender, twined her arms around his neck. She felt the sudden jump of his heartbeat against her ribs, then his mouth was on hers, his lips filling her with his scent and flavor. The pleasure was so intense, she could have wept.

When the kiss ended, they were both trembling. Max didn’t know whether he was awed or appalled. It had never been like this before. His body was starved for her and was clamoring for him to take her. He’d wanted her for so long. He’d thought endlessly about the night they’d met and his damnable imagination had given that night a different ending.

He breathed in her fragrance and a jolt of desire whipped through him. His hands brushed over her shoulders
and his fingers fisted helplessly in the soft mane of hair. He’d dreamed of those dark tresses draped over him like a curtain as her lips skimmed over every inch of his bare skin.

On a shaken laugh, he got out, “One of us has to slow down. Help me, Sara.”

Her voice was sleepy, dazed. “Don’t stop now.” She rubbed her body against his. “I’ll die if you stop.”

“Damnit, I’m trying to be considerate.”

“I don’t want you to be considerate.”

And it was true. William had taught her to fear the brute strength of men, but not for one moment did she confuse Max with the kind of man William was. She reveled in the feel of hard masculine muscles that tensed beneath her fingertips; reveled in the solid shield of his powerful chest. She wanted to press herself close to him. She wanted to possess him; she wanted to be possessed.

His mouth took her again, ravenous, demanding. She answered that demand with a passion that made his head spin. A torrent of heat swept them to the brink. His hands raced over her, freeing her of her robe. He dispensed with the tiny buttons on her nightgown, then pulled back the edges of her bodice and feasted on her warm flesh.

When she moaned, he laughed softly, pulled her to the bed and tumbled with her on the mattress. It took only a moment to free her of her nightgown, then he stripped out of his own clothes and stretched out beside her.

His hands brushed over her, molding her soft flesh, teasing, caressing every curve and valley. When she put her hands on him, and began her own shy exploration of his body, his breath began to rasp in and out of his lungs. His body shuddered with excitement at the soft mewling sounds she made.

“Sara, I don’t think I can wait,” he said hoarsely.

“I don’t want you to wait.”

She was frantic with need. She wasn’t a complete innocent; she knew what came next, and already her body was
vibrating like a finely tuned violin. Someone else had taken over, some glorious, primitive creature that refused to be limited by Sara Carstairs’s fears and inhibitions.

When he knelt above her, her throat tightened unbearably. She had never known a man like this-friend, lover, protector, champion. If only she was worthy of him.

“Tears?” His fingers touched her lashes and came away wet.

“You are so beautiful, Max,” she whispered, and meant it. “I’m afraid I’ll disappoint you.” And she meant that too.

A smile flickered on his lips, but it was fleeting. “Idiot,” he murmured. Chest heaving, he parted her legs and mounted her. She wrapped herself around him and held on tight.

His first thrust drove the breath from her body. The pain was searing. She dug her nails into his back and tried to arch away.

Max froze as though he’d turned to stone.
She was a virgin.
That was something he had never considered.
She was a virgin.
It couldn’t be true. But it was true. She was so tight, his body was ready to explode. A finer man would let her go. He could no more let her go than he could fly to the moon.

He clamped his teeth together as she began to squirm. Beads of sweat broke out on his brow. Her movements to evade him were only driving him deeper into her body. Every muscle quivered as he fought desperately to hold onto his control.

When the pain subsided to an uncomfortable tightness, she let out a pent-up breath, then her whole body went lax.

Max raised his head and looked down at her. He kissed the pout from her mouth. “If only I’d known, I could have made this easier for you.”

“If only I’d known, I wouldn’t be here! I liked it better the last time. In fact-”

He stopped her words with a kiss, a slow, sensuous pos
session that made her forget all about the tightness in her loins. When he thrust again, she sucked in a breath, bracing for pain. It was incomprehensible, but there was no pain, only a pleasure that made her catch her breath.

Carefully, slowly, he brought her up again, lavishing her with kisses and softly spoken words of praise. His words became more ardent, more sexually explicit. Her breath caught on a flood of pleasure. Her body tightened.

Max felt her body climax beneath his, heard her wild cry of rapture, and he buried his face in her hair and let the wildness take him, too.

The minutes slipped by. Their breathing evened. Max shifted to his side, and raised on one elbow to see her better. Her lips were red from his kisses; her hair was in wild disorder. He reached for a strand and rubbed it against his cheek. “Are you all right?” he asked softly.

Love-sleepy and love-dazed, she looked up at him. She touched a hand to his bare chest. She felt both awed and humbled. How could something so earthy and carnal rock her soul to its very foundation? “I feel fine.”

He combed back her hair and found what he was looking for-the scratch on her neck. He traced it reverently with the tips of his fingers. There was a bruise on her hip and grazes on her knees. He traced them too, then kissed them.

Startled, she blinked up at him.

She lay there in wanton abandon, more desirable than any woman he had ever known. But beyond the desire, he felt a fierce determination to protect her. She took appalling risks. Someone had succeeded in hurting her. If that didn’t frighten her, it sure as hell frightened him.

And now tonight, she’d brought a lie to their marriage bed. There was only so much a man could tolerate.