The Moon and the Stars (22 page)

“If that's the truth, why didn't you allow me to return to San Sebastian? Why did you bring me here with you?”

Instead of looking at her, he watched a breeze stir the maroon drapery. “It is difficult to explain, even to myself. I have done you a great wrong, and I want a chance to make amends.”

In that moment she knew exactly why he had asked her to marry him—it was to appease his guilt. “So you think you can make it up to me by dragging me into a loveless marriage?”

He glanced down at her. “Many marriages have started out with less. I believe we would deal well together.”

“Do you?”

“Otherwise I would not have asked you to become my wife.”

Her chest rose and fell with the anger that now
drove her. “I am not flattered by such an outrageous marriage proposal. Nor am I inclined to accept it. I don't need your pity.” She raised her head and stiffened her back. “I have men who would marry me for far different reasons.”

Anger shot through him. “Your Captain Dunning being one, I suppose?”

“Yes, if you must know.”

“Take me instead.” He trailed his hand down her arm. “And I assure you I am not driven by pity. No one would feel pity for a woman as beautiful as you are.” He raised his brow. “And with so many prospects.”

“And those reasons are supposed to convince me to throw myself into your marriage bed?”

A smile tugged at his mouth. “I do find it an intriguing idea.”

“I clearly see your reason for asking me to be your wife—you feel guilty about how you treated me.” She met his gaze straight on. “I intend never to marry again.”

“Just think about it.”

“There is nothing to think about. I do not want to be the wife of anyone who would marry me out of a misguided sense of duty.”

“Is that not what you did with Michael?”

He had hit too close to home, and he knew it. “The reason I married Michael is no business of yours.”

He inhaled deeply. “What would you have me admit that would sway you?”

“Nothing. Everything has been said between us. I am going home to my father as soon as possible. If
you will not lend me the money to get there, I have friends who will.”

He watched her turn away with tears swimming in her eyes. He had handled it all wrong, but then, he had never asked a woman to marry him before. His eyes narrowed. Until now he had been a perfect gentleman, although it had been difficult at times to keep from touching her. It was time for him to stir her emotions, to awaken her passion, and make her want him as much as he wanted her.

Was it fair?
Non,
but he would do it all the same. He wanted her for now, tomorrow, and for the rest of their lives.

It was two days later when Caroline took a turn in the garden. It was that magical time of day when night had not yet fully descended and the sun had not relinquished its brightness to the night. Unhappiness tugged at her mind, and she kept remembering Wade asking her to marry him. She stopped near a crimson rose bush that was in full bloom and breathed in the sweet aroma, wondering if she would have said yes if Wade had professed an undying love for her—which, of course, was impossible, since he did not love her at all.

A slight breeze stirred the leaves of the lilac bush, wafting its delicate scent through the air. She had to impress on him the importance of her going back to Charleston. Every day she delayed would give Brace more reason to send someone after her. He must have guessed by now that Wade had either not found her, or was unwilling to turn her over to him.

Just behind Caroline, Wade watched her disappear down the path, knowing she was not aware of his presence. He had given her time to get used to the idea of becoming his wife; now he was ready to stop treating her like a fragile flower and show her how to respond to him as a man.

She spun around when she heard his bootsteps. “It's a lovely evening for a walk,” she said, seeing something in his eyes that troubled her.

“It is. I am told that you come here often.”

“I like to be in the open.”

He moved closer to her, forcing her to look up to see him. “Then this garden was made for you.”

She noticed that his French accent was more pronounced than usual, as it often was when he felt deeply about something. “I hope you are not here to ask me to marry you again.”

His placed his hands on either side of her face and bent toward her. “Sweet Caroline, will you break my heart?”

She was dazzled and speechless as he laid his rough cheek against hers. She struck out at him with words. “You do not have a heart, Wade.”

He touched his lips to her forehead. “Perhaps you are right.” He whispered in her ear, “But I desire you, Caroline, and that can be a far more powerful emotion than love.”

She realized that she should step away from him—this was a side of him that was far more dangerous than any of the other parts of his complicated personality. “How can you think that would be a good reason to marry?”

“Shall I show you,
mon amour?
”

She finally broke away from him and moved farther down the path, her heart beating so fast she could hardly speak. “I will not do it.”

“Being married to me would not be so bad.” He took her hand and pulled her back to him, suddenly feeling that if she rejected him, the rest of his life would mean nothing. “I have wondered how it would feel to kiss you,” he whispered, bringing her face closer to him. He ran his thumb over her mouth. “Have you not wanted me to touch you?”

She could do little more than stare into his amber eyes: He was so near, she could see the brown streaks that gave them a catlike appearance. She had the impression that she was melting on the inside. She wanted him to kiss her so badly, she ached with need.

“Have you thought about me in that way, Caroline?”

“I have thought about it,” she answered, being honest with him. “You are most certainly a man who knows how to get what he wants from a woman. I'm equally sure that few women could resist you for very long.”

He was watching her with an unreadable expression. “What about you—can you resist me?”

All she had to do was remind herself how it felt when he had clamped those handcuffs on her and it made her answer easier to deliver. “I find that I can,” she said, pushing against his chest and turning her face away from him.

He caught her hand, stalling her. “You are not still afraid of me, are you?”

“I was at first, but not now.”

He stared at her lips, and watched as she shivered. He could so easily make her agree to anything he
wanted—she was vulnerable, and she wanted him. “I have never asked another woman to marry me. I want only you.”

“You of all people should know that my life is in a tangle, and no one can untangle it but me.” She extracted her hand and stepped away from him once more. “The time for running away is over. One way or another, I'm going home to face my past. I would like to leave before the end of the week.”

He knew what she did not. With her father dead, she had no ally waiting for her in Charleston; no one would stand with her against Brace. He would do anything he must to keep her from going back to the danger that awaited her there. Slowly he drew her to him. “You need me. You know you do.”

Before she could protest, he brushed his mouth against hers, and a flickering flame fanned to life within her.

“Sweet Caroline, you have been ripping me apart inside. Before now, I was honor bound to keep my distance. But I am now free to tell you what I want, what I desire most in the world.”

She gave a little sigh and moved her mouth closer to his, seeking the magic of the lips that lingered so near her own. She knew it was the wrong thing to do, but she wanted him to kiss her. Just one kiss and she would walk away from him—or so she thought.

Caroline's surrender was Wade's undoing. His arms slid around her shoulders, and he crushed her breasts against his wide chest. He was not gentle as his mouth ravished hers, molding and shaping it to fit his. He put all his frustrations in the kiss, and then he gentled it when he felt the rise and fall of her rapid breathing.
His lips moved over hers and then to the nape of her neck. “I have been wanting to do this for a long time.”

When he raised his head, he stared into her passion-filled eyes. Without guilt he was using all his male prowess to his advantage, and it was working—he could see it in her eyes. “Say you will marry me,” he demanded.

“No.” Her voice came out in a painful whisper. She was confused and quivering inside, not knowing what she really wanted from him. But the one thing she doggedly held on to was the fact that she had to settle her own problems. She moved away from him, turning her back while she gathered her courage. “I can't marry you.”

He went on the attack again. Pulling her against him so her back rested against his chest, he pressed his body tightly along hers, sliding his arms around her waist to bring her even closer. “
Oui,
you can. If a man ever needed a woman, I need you. All you have to do is say yes.” He kissed the back of her neck and felt her tremble. “Agree to be my wife.”

She dropped her head in bewilderment, wondering how her own body could betray her. She felt the swell of him pressing against her, and it was all she could do not to turn and press herself against him.

“But we don't love each other,” she managed to say.

His eyelids lowered, almost covering his eyes. “Why should that matter?”

He twisted her around and touched his mouth to her throat, going further on the attack.

She tried to remember all the reasons she should run from him: But any objection she might have made was stifled when his mouth settled on hers. As
fire streaked through her veins, and her heart skipped several beats, she could no longer resist him. For so long she had been alone in a world of danger and uncertainty; then he had come into her life. She could not imagine going on without him.

He raised his head and looked at her with an expression of inquiry. “Will you be my wife?”

Her lips tingled from his kiss, and she could hardly think of anything but laying her head against his chest and letting him hold her. “I am sure there must be some woman in your life whom you would prefer over me.”

He laughed softly. “There is no one else.”

“But surely—”

He touched his finger to her lips. “Say you will.”

She heard her own voice as if from a great distance, as if the words were spoken by someone else. “I will.”

He let out a long breath, his grip tightening on her. “I will attempt to make you happy.” He smoothed her hair and tilted her chin. “I know you will make me happy. Now all you have to decide is what kind of ceremony you want and the date. I hope you will make it soon.”

All of a sudden, he was all business and it was like a dash of cold water in her face. How masterfully he had manipulated her. All he'd had to do was kiss her a few times and she would have agreed to anything he had wanted. Even now she did not move away from the sanctuary of his arms. She didn't know what to say to him, but her head rested against his chest, and she was comforted by the sound of his heartbeat. “In truth, we hardly know each other.”

“That can be remedied.” He raised her face and gazed deep into her eyes. “I look forward to knowing you very well indeed. I dream of the night you will come to me as my wife.”

She gave her head a shake. “I am not very good at being a wife.”

He dropped his hand away from her shoulder—he had made her feel too much by taking advantage of her. He could have done much more to tear down her defenses completely, but guilt was already lying heavily on his shoulders for the way he had maneuvered her. He wanted her to come to him because she wanted to, and not because he had enticed her into it. But she would never have done that.

She was still dazed—it had all happened so fast. “I must write my father and invite him to the wedding. I believe he would want to be here.” She took a deep breath. It would take time for a letter to reach her father and then for him to make his way to New Orleans. She would need that time to pull herself together.

Wade stared into the night. He still could not bring himself to inform her that her father was dead, but he would have to, and soon. If he told her, would she have a setback and become ill again? Would it not be better to tell her after they were married, so he could hold her and comfort her in his bed? “Let us keep this between the two of us for now. In good time we will let others know.”

In a move that surprised him, she touched his face. “I wonder if I'll ever know who you really are. You do not share your deepest feelings with anyone.”

He arched his brow and smiled. “You will know me better than anyone ever has.”

“What will you be getting out of such a marriage?”

“A candle in my darkness.”

Caroline had slept fretfully.

It was now mid-morning, and she found herself restlessly pacing the bedroom floor, wondering why she had agreed to marry Wade. His powers of persuasion had been strong, and she had been unable to resist him. Under the same set of circumstances, what woman could have? Wade exuded an overwhelming force that knocked down every barrier between him and what he wanted. With him, she had been completely defenseless.

And yet she felt a certain anticipation. She sat down on the edge of the bed, thinking about what it would be like to be Wade's wife. She ran her hand over the blue coverlet, heat rising inside her—she would lie in this bed with him beside her. He had barely touched her, and yet she had been his willing slave. How would she react when he was actually her husband?

After she accepted his proposal, he had become a completely different man, not the tender lover he had
been when trying to convince her to marry him. He had stepped back as if assessing her with those golden eyes of his. He had then kissed her softly on the mouth and remarked that he was happy she was going to be his wife. In that moment when she had wanted him to hold her in his arms, it had seemed as though a light had been turned off behind his eyes, and she had felt crushing disappointment.