The fire spat and sizzled when sap ran from a green piece of wood, sending a shower of sparks up the chimney. Golden light from the prismed lamp beside the wing chair Colter sat in, reading the newspaper, cast a warm glow over his features. Beyond the lace curtains, the night held the dark and danger that threatened Elizabeth, just as Colter’s presence did. Seated before the fire on the settee, Elizabeth stared down at the needlework she’d abandoned.
Upon his return this afternoon, she had voiced protests that he ignored and since then had little to say to him. Colter had succeeded in establishing himself in everyone’s good graces.
Rutha held her reserve but couldn’t disguise her pleasure as Colter offered to help fill her pantry shelves with staples and delicacies that had long been missing from her kitchen. Mister Josh had unbent long enough to grudgingly admire the four mules that Colter claimed were now his responsibility, but Elizabeth had seen his smile when he unloaded grain for their care.
Emily’s defection was accomplished with a book of poetry, a silver-encased vial of rose water and the softest of cashmere shawls in a shade of pink that nearly matched the blush on her cheek.
Elizabeth chided herself for her petty thoughts. She didn’t begrudge them the gifts, or their pleasure in having them, but she couldn’t ignore the feeling that by making his interest in them widely known, Colter brought danger to them. Alma would never rest until she had Nicole. Elizabeth knew this, and with a sigh, she was forced to accept her place as the one to tell Colter.
She found it difficult to begin, especially with the sound of Nicole’s delighted laughter lingering in her mind. How could she harbor even a tiny bit of resentment or anger for a man who had included all of them in presenting his surprise to Nicole?
With her head bent, Elizabeth allowed her smile to widen, recalling Colter’s solemn explanation that the timing of his gift had to be perfect. None of them had caught the subtle clue. Eyes aglow with impatience, Nicole had cast aside whatever fear of him lingered to remain close by his side. Supper saw her squirming, bolting her food, constantly interrupting the conversation to ask, “When?”
When had arrived with a ribbon-tied box of bonbons that Rutha set in front of Elizabeth, leaving her no choice but to accept and share them. Nicole obediently closed her eyes at Colter’s suggestion and the hour was struck to the lilting tune of the clock Mister Josh set in front of Nicole.
The excited cry, the laughter to see heralds come forth, the enchanting wonder of her daughter’s eyes as she gazed at the delicate figure waving brought home to Elizabeth all that they had been denied. Not the material gifts, but the simple sharing that Alma’s austere manner had forbidden.
To protect her child, Elizabeth decided to be firm with Colter. She knew her own vulnerability to him, and while she wanted and needed to believe in the security he had created by his presence, she would be a fool to forget his being here was a double-edged sword.
Colter looked up at that moment, watching the firelight cast glimmers of bronze and gold in the lighter strands of her hair. The fragile bend of her bare nape drew his gaze. Desire to love her filled him, a hot surge that rushed through his blood. He wanted to free it, but he had a bittersweet awareness that tempered passion.
Elizabeth was afraid of him.
Elizabeth didn’t trust him.
Where had the charming minx, full of laughter, enchanted with life and joyous pleasure, disappeared to? He saw Elizabeth in his daughter. While he had shared his child’s joy when the castle clock had been revealed, it had been Elizabeth that he watched in those unguarded moments. Only a blind fool would have missed the shadows in her eyes. He wanted them gone. He refused to believe that his mind had created lies out of his memories of Elizabeth.
He had earned her anger with this day’s work. They had sat in silence for nearly an hour since tucking Nicole into bed. Emily had been the last to speak. Her good-night and reminder that Rutha had laid fresh linens in the upstairs front bedroom were joined by a speaking glance that begged Colter’s patience.
So he waited. And waited. Elizabeth did not speak.
Time was his enemy. He could give her no more.
Setting aside his paper, Colter rose and took the last two logs from the wood box. He placed them on the fire and faced Elizabeth.
“You have an appointment to see Memminger tomorrow.”
“Thank you.”
“That’s it? No questions, just this meek, false acceptance?”
The goad in his voice made Elizabeth look up at him. “What do you want from me, Colter? Do you want me to ask what you told him about me? Do you want me to claim that pride won’t allow me to accept your help in gaining me a job that will support us? Live at the mercy of another for every crust of bread, for the joy of seeing your child, and then dare to tell me that I am meek!”
“You’re shouting, Elizabeth,” he chided.
“Yes. Yes I am.”
“And you’ve quite crushed that bit of cloth in your hand,” he pointed out, leaning close to take it from her. He hid his smile at Elizabeth’s bemused expression as he set the needlework on the table beside the settee. “But you’re not finished yet, are you?” he asked, taking up his position in front of her.
“I don’t know what you’re implying.”
“Not implying, never that, madam,” he returned in a stern voice, running one hand through his hair. “You don’t trust me and you’re afraid of me. I demand to know why. And when you have satisfied my curiosity on that matter, you can tell me why I’ve angered you over—”
“Enough! I’m not under your military command. You can’t badger and demand and…” She bolted from the settee, intending to cross to her room. He caught her arm in a punishing grip and stopped her,
“No more running.”
His eyes held a reckless glitter and she raised hostile eyes to meet them.
“I’m not afraid of you, Colter. I fear the harm you can do by calling attention to us. You heard Emily mention the risk. It is to Nicole. Alma will not cease in her search to claim her.” Closing her eyes, she bowed her head and felt his grip ease, although he did not release her. “James’s father left everything in trust for a grandchild. Without Nicole—”
“But she’s not—”
“It doesn’t matter. She is claimed as his daughter. Without her, Alma must give over everything to be divided among her husband’s brothers. She will never allow that,” Elizabeth declared with a violent shudder.
Colter released his hold, only to slip his arms around her, drawing her close to him. With his lips pressed to her temple, he murmured, “And your trust? How do I regain that from you?”
With innate honesty, she answered, “I don’t know, Colter.”
“Holding you is like holding the summer sun. You are a forever warmth to melt the chill of loneliness.”
His emotions poured over her, stealing her breath, quickening her pulse. “Think of what you say. These moments are all stolen.”
“And I would steal more.”
Husky, caressing, his voice recalled memories of their times together, just as the soothing touch of his hands stroking her back lulled her into believing him. His scent teased her to taste his kiss and Elizabeth fought to hold on to her sanity.
“Until I know what has happened to James—”
“James isn’t here. I am.” His lips trailed kisses to her ear. “James doesn’t want you. I do.” The edge of her earlobe was caught gently by his teeth and she couldn’t hold back a shiver of arousal. “And you,” he breathed, raising his hand to cup her chin, his gaze holding hers, “you want me, not James.”
“I never did. Not the way you believe. I—” His kiss came to taste her mouth, silencing her, bringing desire, not fear.
Colter’s mouth. Temptation. Pleasure, hot and wild and passionate. Elizabeth remembered all of these only too well. She opened her mouth as her body softened against his. She was greedy now and wanted him to feel the same need he had unleashed in her.
Colter surrendered the role of aggressor. She took his mouth with a delicate courting that clawed his body with desire. He willingly allowed her to take and give as much as she wanted.
His hand stroked her side, raising her arm to his shoulder, lifting her gently up and into his body. He continued his caress, pressing the heel of his hand to the lush side of her breast, until she clung, breathless and shaking against him.
He gave her mouth a reprieve, ignoring her protest. “Such a greedy little fox,” he whispered, finding that he had neglected the sensitive area below her jawline. The teasing kisses brought forth his name in a shuddering cry of demand. “But you enjoy this, don’t you?” he asked softly, pulling the net and pins from her hair. “Tell me,” he demanded in a passion-rough voice.
“I enjoy—”
“And I want more. Say that, too, little fox.”
“And I want—”
“And want,” he finished, breathing the words before taking her mouth again.
His kiss stripped her of calm. His fingers threaded into her loosened hair, cupping the back of her head to hold her still. The hand at the small of her back urged her against him. Colter’s lips rubbed gently against hers until they parted. His agile tongue claimed her mouth with slow, delicious strokes.
Breathing rapidly, he raised his lips from hers to whisper, “Sweet, sweet little fox, you make my blood run hot.” With his mouth open against her throat, he drew the fragile skin against his teeth.
“You’ll mark me,” she cried out softly.
“Yes.” There was a controlled savagery to his voice.
But Elizabeth ignored it. She knew how hot his blood ran, for her own had reached a fevered state. Hungrily she brought his mouth back to hers. Her tongue searched for his and her hands slid into his thick hair, holding him. Pressing against the hard, taut length of his body, all protests faded to whispers in her mind.
Colter had made her glory in the passion they called from each other. He had taught her to share, that the give-and-take between lovers was something rare, always to be treasured. And within her, desire flamed into a passionate glory that demanded consummation.
Colter eased his hold on her head, slid his hand down her back and drew her with him as he stepped toward the wing chair. His mouth teased her with a flirtatious play that begged her to follow him. He sat, positioning Elizabeth between his spread thighs, his hands cupping her hips.
Elizabeth opened her eyes and gazed at the sharp-set features of her lover. A passion flush across his cheeks drew her fingertips, her thumb grazing his mouth. Colter followed her movement, his tongue licking its pad, slowly drawing the tip into the heat of his mouth. She swayed before him, placing one hand on his shoulder for support.
When he released her thumb, she held his gaze and lifted it to her own mouth. “I’ll taste of you and me,” she murmured, eyes darkening as desire rose to another height.
His own eyes darkened, the lids heavy, watching her gaze lower to the blatant ridge of his arousal. The close-fitting, dove gray pants did nothing to hide his aroused state and with a rueful grin, Colter pulled her down to his lap.
But as he once again moved to claim her lips, she turned her head from him.
Into the silence from the upper reaches of the house came the unmistakable chime of the clock. Elizabeth tensed. Colter had given that clock to Nicole. Her daughter. Was she mad to dally with him as her child slept beneath the same roof?
Warnings and recriminations poured over her like a cold, wet rain. Alma’s voice charged from her memory, screaming imprecations. “Trollop! Slattern! Colter’s whore! You’re not fit to be mother to that child!”
“Love, what’s wrong?” he asked in a gentle voice.
Elizabeth didn’t answer. She raised a fist to her passion-swelled lips.
Colter sensed her move to bolt and he snaked his arm around her waist, anchoring her in place. For a few moments she struggled silently for release, and he, just as silently, refused to let her go.
“Stop this, Colter. You don’t own me. I am not yours. Let me free.”
“You’re not making any sense, Elizabeth. For the sake of—”
“I won’t let you use the passion between us to make me forget who I am,” she cried out, striking his shoulder.
“Sweet heaven, Elizabeth,” he grated from between clenched teeth, desperate to still the heat of his body and make sense of her sudden withdrawal. “Desist,” he finally demanded, “before you hurt yourself.”
“Then let me go.” Her slender fingers grabbed his wrist, tugging at his viselike hold.
Afraid that he would hurt her, Colter released her. She jumped up and backed away from him, her eyes wide, her chest heaving, no longer with passion, but what he determined was fear. Her hair was a wild tangle that fell to her waist, and he knew that if he dared to move, she would react like a wild creature, prey to predator. His own breathing was unsteady, his body a riot of need. His mind exerted itself to bring order to his thoughts.
Elizabeth watched him as prey would watch its hunter. His eyes seemed to bore into hers, eyes so dark and hard she shivered. Colter’s strong features grew tense, his lips compressed, and his jaw went rigid with anger. She could see the ripple of his muscles beneath the linen shirt as he slowly rose from the chair.
Her heart thundered in her chest. She tried to speak, but her throat seemed to close and her mouth was dry as kindling.
She knew her silence caused the look on his face to turn to raw fury. Frozen in place, she could only stand as he came toward her.
In the few seconds she had, Elizabeth urged herself to attack him verbally before he could begin to make his demands. She swallowed repeatedly, skirting the fire, backing toward the safety of her bedroom door.
“No farther, Colter,” she warned in an unsteady voice, moistening her lips, frantic to find something to distract him. She could never repeat the names Alma had called her. She could never tell him the guilt she suffered, the shame she had known for loving him.
Colter had her within arm’s reach, but he made no move to touch her. He fought for his own control while attempting to find reason for her actions.
Elizabeth’s gaze darted about the room, lighting on the half-empty box of candy. “Was it your intent to have me in payment for your lavish gifts?”
“Devil’s bitch,” he swore in a biting tone that was soft, almost too soft. “If it was, madam, I was sorely cheated. That damn clock cost me two thousand dollars in gold.” Colter wasn’t looking at her. He couldn’t. The course of her attack left him feeling raw.
“Colter! I didn’t mean—”
His gaze locked on hers. “Didn’t you?”
Elizabeth felt chilled by his cold countenance. He stood, legs spread apart in a challenging stance; she could see their sinewed strength strain against the cloth of his formfitting breeches. The strong beat of the pulse in his throat kept the same wild cadence as her heart.
She closed her eyes for a dizzying moment. What in all of heaven had she done?
“Look at me! No cowardice now, madam,” he intoned in a voice that had brought fear to his men. “Find me a brazen whore bold enough to proclaim her wares worthy of that high a price. Find her, damn you!” he commanded, knowing he was losing control.
Startled, Elizabeth looked at him again. She shook to see his hands curled into fists at his sides. “Colter, stop. Please, stop.” She raised her hand as if to ward off his blow.
Colter’s lips compressed until they were almost white. He hadn’t missed her move. “You believe that I would raise my hand to you?”
“No. No, never you.” Her hand fell limply to her side, but he wasn’t done.
“Well,” he asked in a mocking tone, “have you nothing else to say? Do you truly believe,” he goaded without mercy, “that my expenses this day were well paid for?”
“Colter, I…no,” she finished lamely. Dragging forth her courage, she offered him what she hoped he wanted to hear. “If I let you use me from now until you had to leave, I would not be able to repay your generosity.”
Her eyes were glazed with unshed tears, but he was far too incensed to see them and take pity, or to realize that she lied. She had sliced a raw wound in him and his pride demanded satisfaction.
“Come here, Elizabeth,” he drawled with soft menace.