Page 54 of A Daring Desire

“Well, that sounds pleasant, I admit, but did you not have any friends? Did you never go to school?”

“Eventually, yes. I was educated like any gentleman.”

“Then you must have had friends?” she persisted, and he smiled at the concern in her eyes.

He lifted his hand, stroking her satiny cheek, filled with tenderness for this fierce but gentle creature who was reckless enough to care for him.

“My brother’s reputation proceeded me. He was not popular among the other boys, to put it mildly.”

“Damn your wretched brother, and your father too,” she exclaimed furiously. “I suppose you suffered for his iniquities. My brothers told me how badly some of the younger boys were treated when they were at school, and it sounded horrific. I was never so glad they were big and robust, and always kind enough to stick up for those who could not defend themselves, but… was there anyone to speak up for you?”

He laughed at that and shook his head. “No, and I was not… er, as large as I am now. A skinny stick of a boy, ripe to be stuffed into cupboards and made the object of ridicule. I survived it well enough,” he said with a wry smile, but to his dismay Catherine looked shocked and appalled, her lovely eyes filling with tears.

“Oh my God, are you weeping for me?” he asked, torn between horror and a wave of emotion so great he did not wish to consider it. “Stop that.”

“I c-can’t,” she said, a big tear rolling down her cheek. “I can’t bear it, to think of you so alone and unh-happy,” she stammered.

Kilbane stared down at her, feeling oddly exposed. Anger writhed in his chest at the idea she could pity him, and a sharp comment rose to his tongue. He swallowed it down with difficulty, knowing it was her tender-hearted nature that ached for a boy she had never known, but struggling to accept her solicitude as he ought.

“Don’t,” he commanded, caught between irritation and some other, softer and more insidious emotion that made his chest tight. Self-pity was never something he had indulged in, preferring to mete out retribution to those who had once mocked and tormented him. Even as a boy, he had never taken such treatment without exacting revenge at the earliest opportunity, until it became second nature to do so. “Catherine, stop that at once.”

But Catherine only buried her face against his chest and hugged him tightly. Thoroughly unsettled, Kilbane put his hands to her face, forcing her to lift her head, and kissed her.

To his relief, her tears stopped abruptly, and she answered with a soft gasp of pleasure that made his body vibrate like a tuning fork in response. She was pliant in his arms, entirely willing, allowing him to lead her where he would, and the knowledge she would likely deny him nothing, despite her earlier words to the contrary, hindered rather than spurred him on. He knew how desire could be used as a weapon, knew well how to tease and lure and seduce, and she wanted him badly. Knowing he could take what he wanted, and she would put up little in the way of protest was uncomfortable, for the first time in his life leaving him feeling accountable, making him care that she was treated as she ought to be. The knowledge made him at once awkward and clumsy, like a great, wicked brute despoiling something sweet and lovely, which was no more than the truth. She did not know how to kiss even, though she was catching on quickly enough, but here was evidence of such innocence he hardly knew how to comprehend it. His wife was the naïve child he had always accused her of being and he did not know what to do.

His body knew, and the press of her soft form against his, the way her hands moved over him, sliding down his back to his hips had him hard and aching and desperate so swiftly he had to break the kiss, knowing too well where it would lead.

“We’d best—” he began, but she slid her arms about his neck, tugging his head down and kissing him again, her tongue sliding tentatively against his.

He groaned, kissing her hard and deep, pulling her so close there was no mistaking what he needed from her. She made a startled sound, and he half hoped she would pull back in shock, but he realised it had not been a gasp so much as a laugh, and jolted as her hand smoothed down his trousers, cupping the rigid shape beneath the fabric.

“I want to see,” she said, staring up at him, excitement glittering in her eyes.

His brain stuttered to a halt, and for a moment he could not understand her. “What? No!”

“Why not?” She sent him a mischievous look, so full of devilry that the combination of purity and wickedness he saw in her made his brain melt.

“Damn you, Catherine, you can’t always have what you want when you want it,” he said, irritated to hear his own voice sound so breathless and agitated.

“Darling, you ought to know by now I’m a spoiled brat,” she said, sounding far too reasonable. “But I don’t see why you should get in a pelter about it when you want it too.”

Kilbane stared at her in frustration, torn between annoyance and laughter and desire, which seemed the usual bewildering stew of emotions she sent him into whenever she was close to him. He had never in his life wanted anyone or anything as he wanted her. The temptation to throw her down on the earl’s sturdy oak desk and take what he desired warred with the voice that howled inside him, reminding him of just how many lovers he’d had before her, of mornings when he’d awoken not knowing the names of the people in his bed, nevermind where he was. His Catherine had been cossetted and spoiled and sheltered from the world and he did not know how to be with her without opening her eyes to the man he’d been, let alone how to be the kind of husband she deserved. Her hand tightened upon his arousal and pleasure shafted through him. He groaned, closing his eyes.

“Catherine, please, don’t.”

She paused, and he forced his eyes open, seeing the doubt in her eyes. “You don’t want me to?”

He laughed, aware he sounded a little hysterical, but the ridiculous nature of the situation did not escape him. “I want to,” he said, his voice low as he covered her hand with his and tightened her grip on him. His breathing hitched, but he grasped her hand and took it away, placing it on his lapel instead. “But not here. I want you too much, but this is not what you want. Not like this.”

He watched her consider his words, her soft mouth pursing into a little moue of displeasure that made him long to kiss her again.

“I think it is,” she countered, adding judiciously. “I mean, I don’t want this to be our wedding night, but it’s rather exciting, isn’t it, being alone together here, when the rest of the world are but a few rooms away from us? I mean, I know you’ve done all sorts of wicked things, so perhaps the excitement palls after a while, but to me, it seems a delightful way to pass the time with you.”

Kilbane stared down at her, beguiled and maddened and shamed all at once. “You make everything new again,” he told her, which was no more than the truth. “But I am not new. I am still me, I have done all sorts of wicked things. Indeed, some you would revile me for if you knew, and I will pray you never discover those.”

“It wouldn’t matter,” she said frankly, and he felt another piece of his bewildered heart fall under her spell. “Though I admit I am curious. I hope you will tell me of them one day.”

That was too much. He stepped away from her, putting distance between them. “Damned if I will,” he retorted.