Strangers At Dawn Part 23

"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 possession 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, lavis.h.i.+ng her with kisses and softly spoken words of praise. His words became more ardent, more s.e.xually 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 s.h.i.+fted 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 h.e.l.l frightened him.

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

He bent over her and kissed her on the lips. "You're sure you're all right?"

There was something in his look that made her cautious. "I'm sure."

"Good." His features hardened, and he said in a different voice entirely, "Now would you mind explaining what in blazes is going on? You've never had a lover. So why did you lie to me, Sara? Why did you lie about William Neville?"

A shaft of fear went straight through her. "What do you mean?"

"At the trial, your letters to William were read out. You were lovers." He shook his head, baffled. "But you were never lovers."

"Oh, that." She was suddenly cold, and reaching for her nightgown, she slipped into it. "Those letters," she said, "were doctored."

"They were counterfeit?"

"No, I wrote them all right, but that was long before William married Anne. I was eighteen, and I thought I was in love with him. I didn't date the letters. William did that after my father died, then he tried to blackmail me."

Her voice was husky, and she stopped from time to time to catch her breath. "He was always short of money. It didn't matter how much I gave him, it was never enough to pay off his gambling debts. Thankfully, he preferred London to Hamps.h.i.+re. When he was away, we were all happy. But when the money ran out, he always came back for more."

She swung her legs over the edge of the bed and sat with her shoulders hunched over. Max waited a moment, and when she remained silent, he said gently, "He put dates on the letters to prove that you and he were having an affair behind your sister's back?"

"It didn't work. I told Anne the truth, that I'd written the letters when I was a young girl and thought I was in love with him. She didn't know that William and I had ever been more than acquaintances. No one did. We kept it a secret because William feared his father would disown him if he knew about me, and when we couldn't meet, we exchanged letters. What a romantic fool I was in those days."

Again, she fell silent, and Max said, "Don't stop there, Sara. Tell me everything you remember about William."

She turned her head and looked up at him. "Why?"

"Because he's had such a profound effect on your life, and I want to understand."

"He destroys everything he touches."

He was aware that she'd used the present tense. "I can see that. What happened, Sara? What made you fall out of love?"

"His violent temper; his jealous rages." She gave a tiny shrug. "He frightened me. I taxed him about a rumor I'd heard. There was a local girl who was supposed to be pregnant with his child." She looked into Max's eyes. "They said that William forced her to get rid of the child she was carrying, and she died. I didn't believe any of it. But when I asked William about it-he looked frightened. He went crazy. He said it was all lies. And he hit me."

Max's breath hissed through his teeth.

"I don't think he meant to. He was as shocked as I. He couldn't apologize enough. I told my father I'd walked into a door. After that, I wanted nothing to do with William. He wouldn't accept that. It got so I became a prisoner in my own house. I was ashamed to tell my father about my romance with William, if one can call it that. Had I done so, things might have turned out differently for Anne. Eventually, he gave up and went back to London, and I thought that was the end of it."

She rose from the bed, scooped her dressing robe off the floor, and shrugged into it. Max reached for his trousers and pulled them on. He couldn't take his eyes off her. She was small-boned and delicate. He could span her waist with his hands. A man would have to be an animal to raise his hand to her. He hoped fervently that Neville was still alive, that one day they'd come face-to-face, because he'd tear him limb from limb.

"Then one year," she said, "Miss Beattie and I went on a touring holiday to Scotland. We were gone almost three months. When I returned, I found that William had married Anne."

"How could your father have permitted it? I mean, William Neville! I knew him slightly in London, and he was a known wastrel and gamester."

"My father knew nothing of his life in London. And William could be charming when he wanted to be. There were rumors, but that's all they were. And don't forget, William was Sir Ivor Neville's heir. The Nevilles are the oldest family in his part of Hamps.h.i.+re. Everyone respects them because of their name.

"And my father was jubilant. One day, a t.i.tle would come into the family, when William inherited. What could I say? It was too late. Anne was already married. I hoped for the best. But I feared the worst. And I was right. When my father had a stroke, William showed his true colors."

She wasn't aware that she had plucked a rose from the vase and was shredding its petals. "When William began to take his temper out on Anne, my father wasn't in a position to protect her. I went to Sir Ivor and begged him to intervene, but he refused. He'd disowned William even before he'd married Anne, because of his wildness. And after he married Anne, he wanted nothing to do with any of us."

She whirled to face him. "I wasn't ready to give up yet. I thought the law would protect Anne. I thought I could order William off our property. I wanted Anne to leave him. I wanted her to live with me." There was a catch in her voice, and she paused to clear her throat.

"Do you know what I learned, Max? I learned that a wife is a husband's property. She can do nothing without his permission. He owns her, he literally owns her. If she has powerful male relatives, she stands a better chance, but a woman on her own is helpless.

"Well, my father found a way to keep William in check. He changed his will and left everything to me. Anne had some money when he died, but she was no longer a great heiress. I was, and I learned to control William with money. When he was a good boy, I rewarded him, and when he was bad, I punished him. The trouble was ... the trouble was ... " Tears clogged her throat and she trailed to a halt.

Max said softly, "The trouble was, William had a powerful weapon as well. Anne."

She nodded. "I was afraid to leave her alone with him. I spent most of my time at the dower house, and if I couldn't be there, Drew took over. That's why he practically lived on the estate. The only time we got any relief was when William went off to London. But he always came back."

He waited until she'd gained control of her emotions. "You became engaged," he said softly.

She nodded. "I didn't love Francis, but I liked him well enough. I thought if I had a husband, he could control William better than I could. If William went crazy when his friends told him about it, it wasn't because he loved me but because he thought Anne wouldn't get her share of my father's money."

She didn't see his hands fisting at his sides. "Sara-" He hesitated, but he had to know. "What happened the night William disappeared?"

Her voice was anguished. "I don't know, Max, and that's the truth. I honestly don't know."

"Sara." He stretched out his hand. She came to him at once. He tilted her face to his and pressed a kiss to her lips. Then he dug in the pocket of his trousers, produced a handkerchief and made her blow her nose.

When she drew in a long breath and smiled up at him, he said, "Why did none of this come out at the trial?"

She shrugged. "Because it would have been too damaging, that's what Mr. Cole, my barrister, said. Don't you know that a trial is like a game of chess? Your counsel will only present evidence that helps win your case. No one cares about the truth."

"But the letters-"

She shook her head. "I was told that the jury wouldn't believe that William had added the dates later, because no one knew he and I had known each other before his marriage to Anne. It was the same with the pa.s.sages in the letters that Mr. Cole said were 'warm.' I was quoting William's words back to him. I was too innocent to understand that simple words can be double-edged. It was just too complicated to explain the letters, too incredible, so Mr. Cole didn't even try. To tell you the truth, I don't think he believed in my innocence."

He said savagely, "Cole should be shot!"

"Why? He got me off, didn't he? That's all that matters in a trial, winning and losing. You can hardly expect me to find fault with him for that."

"I'm not thinking about that! Of course I'm grateful that Cole got you off. But the letters! It was because of the letters that I couldn't get around the fact that William was your lover."

She made a small sound, a teary sigh with a hint of pique. "What about my other lovers?"

"What lovers?"

"My legion of lovers."

He grinned. "Oh, I discounted those months ago."

"Max, we've only known each other a few weeks."

"Really?" He smiled down at her and smoothed unruly strands of hair back from her face. "I feel as though we've known each other forever. Now what did I say?"

Her hands fastened around his arms. "That's exactly how I felt in Reading, the night you climbed in my window."

"I wish," he said seriously, "that I'd climbed in your window years ago." He kissed her eyes. "I wish I'd been there for you when your father died." He kissed her chin. "I wish I'd been there when William hit you." His voice was razor-edged. "I would have killed the b.a.s.t.a.r.d before I'd have let him harm a hair of your head. Sara-"

Her fingers covered his mouth. Her eyes were misted with tears. If he said any more, all her defenses would crumble, and she'd start bawling like a baby. She'd been in control for so many years. She'd had to be strong to protect the people she loved. But she glimpsed how it could be with a man like this. To have no secrets, to share her worst fears. She hovered, uncertain, but years of self-discipline held sway, and she took a step back from the brink.

"I don't want to think about William," she said. "Just for a little while, I want to forget. Help me forget, Max."

His hand slowly lifted, and he traced the bones of her face. "Something is troubling you."

"No. It's just that-"

"What?"

"I wish I knew how to seduce my husband."

He gave her the smile she loved. "I'll show you."

It turned out to be sheer torture for Max. Her mind wasn't bent on pleasure, as was his, but on the pursuit of knowledge. Like a scholar researching her subject, she tested every part of his anatomy and stored her findings in her mind for future reference. It was hard to believe that he was her first lover. She had no modesty, only an inquiring mind. While he was ready to explode, she sat back on her heels, brows knit in concentration as she put him through h.e.l.l.

The end came for him when she replaced her fingers with her lips. He suddenly pounced and rolled with her on the bed.

"But, Max, darling," she cried out, her shoulders shaking with laughter, "I haven't finished yet."

He was captivated by the transformation in her. This is what he wanted for her, he thought fiercely-eyes sparkling, skin flushed, white teeth flas.h.i.+ng as she let the laughter take her. She looked young, and mischievous, without a care in the world. He had a flash of recall: Sara at her trial like a block of ice, not a trace of emotion showing on her finely sculpted face.

She caught the odd look in his eyes, as though he were displeased about something, and her smile faded. She said tremulously, "Did I shock you? Was I too bold?"

He framed her face with both hands. "What you are is perfect," he said.

"Oh, Max, don't put me on a pedestal. I'll only disappoint you."

"I have no intention of putting you on a pedestal. What I'd like to do is chain you to my bed and pounce on you every chance I get."

"Pounce on me?"

"Like this."

They were both smiling when their mouths met. And he didn't pounce on her. He gave her all the patience and finesse he would have given her before, if he'd known he was her first lover. Smiles disintegrated; their breathing grew thicker; their bodies flowed together. Pa.s.sion was there, but banked. He was in no hurry. With every kiss and caress, he tried to show her what he did not think she was ready to accept with words. So he told her she was beautiful; he told her that she pleased him; he told her that he'd been waiting for her to appear all his adult life.

She felt as though a vise were squeezing her heart. He was making love to a woman he didn't know. There was no escape now, not from him.

It was better not to think at all.

She held him close, her hands running ceaselessly over his warm flesh, and showed him with the gift of her surrender what she could not admit in words, not even to herself.

*Chapter Twenty*

One minute Sara was talking to Simon over the breakfast table, and the next minute Max came striding in, swept her up in his arms, and carried her out to a waiting carriage.

Simon threw down his napkin and went after them. "What in blazes do you think you're doing with my sister? Answer me, d.a.m.n you! Put her down!"

Sara was alarmed as well. "Max, what's going on?"

His darkly lashed eyes glinted down at her. "You could say I'm abducting you."