The Moon and the Stars (29 page)

The two of them trembled together as they reached satisfaction at last. They clung to each other while their spirits seemed to soar free.

Then Wade sank against Caroline, and she joyfully bore the full weight of his body.

Long moments passed as his fingers interlocked with hers, and he raised her hand to his lips. She slid her hand from his and pushed his hair back, kissing his mouth.

She sighed—he took a deep breath.

Reluctantly he moved off her and turned her to face him, pushing a sweat-dampened curl from her face. He traced her arched brow with a finger and drew it down to her swollen lips.

“I was sure it would be powerful between us, and it was,” he admitted, pulling her head against his shoulder. “I do not think my mind has ever been this clear before.”

She ran her fingers up his arm. “I want to be a good wife to you.” She lowered her lashes coyly. “I certainly want to try.”

His laughter was deep and sexual. “Caroline—” he touched his mouth to hers. “You have just given me your purity and sweetness, and I would definitely call that gift being a good wife.” He took her face in his hands and made her look at him. “I believe I knew we were meant to be together before I met you.”

She pulled back and raised herself up on her elbow. “You said that before. What can you mean?”

He hated to bring anything ugly into such a perfect moment, but he had to tell her about her father, and he had to go slowly. “Brace Duncan had sent me a picture so I would recognize you when I saw you.”

She disliked the thought of Brace having a picture of her. He must have taken the one that she had given Michael. “I did not know he had my likeness.”

“I want you to understand what I have to say to you. I want you to know how I feel about you so there will be no doubt later on.” He forced her to look at him. “Caroline, I would never have taken the assignment to go after you if I had not first seen your likeness. I cannot explain it, but I felt compelled to find you wherever you were.”

“And you did.”

He drew her back into his arms, holding her tightly. “There is so much we have to say to each other. We
do not know each other all that well, although my heart spoke to yours long before you answered.”

His words were enticing, the meaning just out of her reach—he was as much a master with words as he had been with a gun. “You are keeping something from me.”

“I admit that I have been. I want you to realize that I could not tell you this before now because you were so ill. The doctor warned me that I must not upset you.”

She suddenly went cold inside, and she wasn't sure she wanted to hear what he had to say. The passion that had flared between them was just below the surface, and it would take only a touch of his hand to bring it back into flames. “I don't understand.”

Wade wanted to make love to her again so he could avoid telling her about her father. He was about to make the hardest confession he had ever faced in his life, and he dreaded the outcome. Would she hate him for keeping the news from her for so long?

“Even before I start,” he said, moving his mouth over hers, “I will remind you that I once told you that I would soon ask something of you. I ask it tonight. I ask it now.”

“What can it be?”

“I ask for your forgiveness.”

She felt her world crumbling and falling down around her. Something was dreadfully wrong, and he was about to tell her what it was.

She rolled away from him and propped herself against the headboard, tossing her hair behind her. “Are you about to tell me that you are handing me over to Brace?”

“Never. How could you think that?” He moved toward her so he was sitting beside her, but not touching her. In the soft moonlight he was familiarizing himself with the face that had haunted him even before he met her.

“First, Caroline, will you answer some questions for me? Even if you think they are ill-timed for a wedding night?”

Her hand fell onto his leg, and she jerked it away. His eyes begged her for something she did not understand. She felt defenseless in her nakedness.

And she needed to be in control. Whatever he was about to tell her was going to be very bad. She slid out of bed and pulled on her robe and moved away from him. “If I can answer your questions, I will.”

He stood up and slipped into his trousers, then moved closer to her. “Tell me about your mother and father.”

To Caroline the moment took on a feeling of unreality. Why was he asking these questions tonight?

“My recollections of my mother are really just impressions. When I think of her, I remember that she loved me. I think of her as a very gentle and kind person. And she always smelled of roses.”

“And your father?”

Perhaps he was asking the questions because he wanted to know what her life had been like as a child. She remembered the questions he had thrown at her that day in the swamp—maybe this was more of the same.

“My father is a planter, although he lost everything in the war and the fields around my home are now dormant. You have been to the platation and spoken to my father; you must have noticed the ruin and how run-down the house was.”

“A lot of the South has not yet recovered from the war. I thought your home was better preserved than most.”

She tightened her belt. Her body still tingled from his lovemaking, and it would only take a touch of his hand to bring her back into his arms. Why was he so distant now?

“I suppose so.”

“You said your father objected to your marriage to Michael?”

“Yes, he did. Fervently.” She lowered her head, but just for a moment, and then she met his gaze. “My father
told me that he would never see me again if I married into the Duncan family.”

“What did he have against them?”

He was grilling her hard, and she felt exposed by his questions. But he seemed insistent, so she answered his questions.

“The Duncan family did not have a good reputation—not good enough for my father. Michael's father did not put all his assets into Confederate funds like my father thought a true patriot should have done when the war came along. Instead, Mr. Duncan bought Yankee gold. I believe our neighbors who lost everything in the war resented Mr. Duncan for it. But he did not live long enough to rue the day.”

“In retrospect, it sounds like he made a good business choice.”

“That was what Michael always said. But my father's main objection to the family went deeper than that. He despised and mistrusted Brace, who had a reputation for bullying anyone who didn't think the way he did. It was suspected by some, although never proven, that Brace had set fire to the Jamiesons' house because of an argument he had with Mr. Jamieson over a horse.” She clasped her hands tightly together. “The Jamiesons' five-year-old daughter died in that fire.”

Wade noticed that her whole body was trembling, and he cursed himself for being an insensitive fool. But in a few moments he would have to say even more cruel words, words that would tear her heart out. He wished there were another way, but there was not. The thought of hurting her made him feel sick inside.

She watched the emotions play across his face, and she felt a deep sadness in him.

“Wade?”

At first she resisted when he reached out to gather her in his arms, but then she laid her head against his chest.

“Caroline, I wish there were some way I could spare you this, but I cannot.”

She didn't want to know what he had to tell her. She spoke in a rush, trying to ignore what was to come. “My father did not go to the wedding, and our last meeting was a very painful one.”

“Do not say any more. There is no need.”

She felt like crying, but she held back her tears. “I know my father is sorry now. I know he would want to see me. It is painful for me to remember that his last words to me were spoken in anger.” She felt a tightening in her chest as a premonition hit her. “I will want to see him as soon as possible.” She clutched at Wade's arm, already knowing what he was about to tell her. “Say that I can see my father very soon.”

He took her hands and captured them in his. He could not stand to look into her eyes as he began to speak. “And if it is not possible to see him, then what?”

She shook her head as dread settled over her. She turned an uncertain gaze up to him. She freed her hand from his clasp and moved across the cabin to stand at the window. “What are you trying to tell me?”

He went to her and eased her toward him. It seemed that she could not hold herself upright, and her head fell against his chest.

“Tell me what is wrong with my father.”

“Caroline, I wish there were some way I could spare you this. You have been through so much.”

She burrowed her face against his skin and allowed his arms to go around her. “What happened?”

“I received a telegram from Nate. He said your father had been shot.”

He waited for her to react, but she said nothing. He had expected her to cry and carry on, but no sound came from her lips. Then he felt the violent trembling that shook her slight body.

“No! It cannot be. My father is not dead. If he were, I would have felt it in my heart.”

He caught her hands. “Caroline, it is true. Do you think I would fabricate something like this?”

She stumbled away from him and threw herself down on the bed, burrowing her face into the pillow and sobbing so hard her whole body shook with the intensity of it.

He sat on the edge of the bed and gathered her in his arms. “
Mon amour,
I am so sorry.” He kissed her tear-wet face, his heart hurting for her. He had never seen such complete devastation in anyone before.

At last the crying lessened, and he ran his hand up and down her back, trying to comfort her.

“I remember my father laughing and strong. I remember him teaching me to ride a horse. I remember his personality changing when he lost my mother. He was sad for so long. But I will always remember that he was angry with me when I last saw him.”

“
Non, non,
do not think that. When I saw your father, he had only concern and love for you.”

“You said he was shot?”

“That is what Nate's wire said.”

“But who would do such a thing?”

“Perhaps you can guess.”

“Brace!” She fell across the bed like a wilted flower. “When did it happen? How long ago?”

This was the question he had been dreading. “The telegram was waiting for me when we arrived in New Orleans from Texas.”

She sat up and looked at him as if she didn't understand. “If you knew then, why didn't you tell me?”

“I was not sure you were strong enough to hear such tragic news.”

“That was not your decision to make. We are talking about my father. You had no right to withhold the news from me.”

“Do you forget how ill you were at the time? The doctor thought I should wait and tell you when you were stronger.”

Her grief had suddenly turned to anger. “And who was to decide when I was stronger? It was not for you or the doctor to say what I could hear and what I should not be told.”

“I made the decision to wait.”

Her eyes were gleaming with anger. “What right did you have to decide for me? I am not your prisoner now.”

“You have every right to be angry with me. But I wanted only to take care of you. I owed it to you because it was my fault you became ill.”

She scrambled away from him as he spoke the words that crushed her heart. “Did you owe me
when you forced me to leave San Sebastian? Did you owe me when you handcuffed me to the horse? Did you owe me when you married me today? Or did you just feel guilty because you tortured an innocent woman?”

He reached out to her and clasped his hand around her wrist. “I hope you will one day find it in your heart to forgive me. What I did to you was reprehensible. I would do anything to make it up to you.”

“So you married me, thinking you could make amends for what you had done? I salute your sacrifice on my behalf.”

“It was not like that at all.”

When he reached out to her, she batted his hand away. “Don't touch me! How could you do such a thing? I had a life, and you took it away from me. Since the first day I saw you, you have been controlling me.”

“Caroline, do not think that.”

She moved to the long sofa and sat down, folding her legs beneath her. “What am I to do?” She buried her face in her hands. “My dear, sweet father, dead.”

He knelt down beside her. “Caroline”—his hand slid up her arm—“I do feel guilty for the way I treated you at first. But guilt was not my motive for asking you to be my wife.”

She flipped her hair out of her face as she tried to gather her fragmented thoughts. “Then what was your reason?”

The hand that touched her arm became caressing; he was so near, she could feel his breath on her cheek. The news of her father's murder had been a terrible
blow, and her heart was shattered—and yet, at the moment, she wanted to be in Wade's arms, and she saw in his eyes that he sensed it.

He opened her robe, his hand moving across her thigh.

She bit her lip and caught her breath.

His hand moved between her legs, his finger easing into her while he lowered his head, molding his lips to hers.

Frantically she pressed her lips against his, fighting to bring him closer, needing to feel him inside her. She wanted to forget the sadness that swamped her. She wanted only to feel the wonderful things he could do to her. Her hands slid down his stomach, undoing his trousers.

He left her only long enough to undress; then he moved into position and gripped her hips, plunging into her in a rage of passion.

She touched her lips to his and took his groan into her mouth. She closed her eyes and turned her body over to his masterful lovemaking.