JAKrentz - Witchcraft (25 page)

"Another responsibility you've assumed?" The softness in him vanished. "Call it whatever you like. Going to hold my silence on the subject against me along with everything else?" Kimberly frowned. "Of course not. I'm sure you've given your word not to talk about your former line of work.

I wouldn't expect you to break it." Not Darius
Cavenaugh
. He'd see his responsibilities through to the end of his life. Kimberly drank some champagne and considered her own uncertain future. What if she'd made a terrible mistake, Kimberly wondered with a touch of panic. Maybe everything wasn't going to be all right now. Maybe everything was going to be a total disaster. "You must be exhausted,"
Cavenaugh
said gently.

"It's been a long day."

"I'll survive," she muttered. He looked at her through faintly narrowed eyes. "I'm not sure I will." She wasn't certain she'd heard him. It was the first indication of any emotion other than bland politeness she'd caught in his words for weeks. "I beg your pardon?"

"Nothing," he assured her quickly, taking her arm. "Let's go talk to your grandparents. They want to show you off a bit."

"They're delighted I've made such an excellent marriage," Kimberly said dryly. "More delighted about it than you are, apparently." Kimberly blinked. Again she sensed the blade of the knife beneath his words.

Cavenaugh's
carefully controlled temperament was fraying slightly around the edges. She wondered why. She was still wondering two hours later, when she found herself alone in her bedroom. The last of the guests had left the estate and the various inhabitants of the house had settled down in their own rooms. Kimberly realized she was pacing the floor in front of the bed and forced herself to stop. This wasn't exactly how she had envisioned spending her wedding night. She was alone and it was clear now that
Cavenaugh
would not be joining her. He had walked her upstairs, kissed her good night at the door and disappeared into his own room. Eyes burning with tears of frustration and dismay, Kimberly sank down onto the edge of her bed and desperately tried to decide what to do next. She was at a loss. There had been no talk of a honeymoon, not even a trip to the coast to spend some time in her beach house. This was insane, she told herself. Here she was head over heels in love with her husband of only a few hours and he was spending the night in his own bedroom! It was beginning to appear as though he intended to live by the vow he had made the night he asked her to marry him. She would be given all the time she wanted to get to know h
im
. Somehow Kimberly hadn't really expected him to honor those rash words. Especially since she had never meant him to do so. It was ludicrous to think that they could truly get to know each other as long as they were fencing emotionally like this. What she wouldn't give for some genuine telepathic talent, Kimberly thought. She would sacrifice a great deal at this moment to know what was going on in Darius
Cavenaugh's
head.

Slowly she stood up and unbuttoned the delicate fastenings of her wedding dress. Hanging it carefully in the closet, she pulled out the nightgown she had bought for the occasion of her wedding night. Grimly she stared at the frilly concoction of satin and lace and then she put it away again. No sense wasting it, Kimberly told herself. She might as well wear her usual T-shirt. There would be no one sharing the bed with her and thus no one to appreciate the horribly expensive nightgown.

Standing barefooted in front of the mirror, she brushed her hair down around her shoulders, studying herself critically in the thigh-length T-shirt. From the beginning she had never doubted the physical attraction between herself and
Cavenaugh
. He wanted her, or at least he had wanted her. She examined the thrust of her breasts against the T-shirt and licked her lower lip uncertainly. What if even that elemental attraction had faded? No, she concluded, that wasn't the case.

She had seen the barely concealed possessiveness in those emerald eyes on more than one occasion during the past six weeks. And she was certain she'd felt him restraining himself when he'd taken her in his arms to kiss her good night. Kimberly pulled the brush through her hair one last time and threw it down on the dresser.
Cavenaugh
was sticking by his plan to "give her time." That was the only explanation for his odd behavior. But she couldn't figure out what he expected her to do while she waited patiently for him to signal that enough time had passed between them. It had all gone far enough, Kimberly decided with sudden resolution. She was a married woman in love with her husband. Her husband might not love her but he wanted her and he needed her. That made for a better foundation than a lot of marriages had, she assured herself. Without pausing to think, Kimberly whirled and grabbed her old terry cloth robe out of the closet. Flinging it on she let herself out into the hall. The house was dark and quiet. She looked at the door of
Cavenaugh's
room and saw that there was no shaft of light under the door. He must have gone to bed. It took almost as much courage to walk down the hall to
Cavenaugh's
bedroom as it had to face the punk with the silver dagger. In front of the door Kimberly lifted her hand to knock and then changed her mind. Taking a long, steadying breath she tried the doorknob. It gave silently and the door swung open with only the smallest of sounds. She stood for a few seconds, letting her eyes adjust to the shadows. If
Cavenaugh
hadn't moved slightly in the darkness she wouldn't have seen him. He was sitting in a chair by the window, his legs sprawled out in front of him. There was a bottle beside him and the movement she saw was the one he made when he reached for it. She couldn't see his face. "
Cavenaugh
?"

"You have a talent for it, Kim." His voice was a low growl of sound. "A talent for what?" she whispered, daring to close the door behind her. "For finding trouble, of course especially at night. Most of your big adventures lately have taken place at night, haven't they?" He poured the brandy with unnatural care. Kimberly clung to the doorknob behind her back. "Are you ... are you very drunk,
Cavenaugh
?"

"Not yet, but I'm getting there.

Don't rush me, Kim. I'm doing my damnedest not to rush you, the least you can do is return the favor." She still couldn't see much of him as he sprawled in the chair; only his arm was visible as he raised the brandy glass to his mouth. The arm was bare though, and Kimberly realized that all
Cavenaugh
was wearing was a pair of jeans. "Is that why you haven't shown any interest in me for the past six weeks? You're trying not to rush me?" Her voice was a thread of husky sound in the darkness. Her pulse was racing with trepidation and a strange kind of uncertain fear. "What do you mean I haven't shown any interest in you?

I married you, didn't I? A man doesn't generally marry a woman unless he's at least mildly interested in her." She winced.
Cavenaugh
was definitely beginning to sound surly. If his temper had been showing signs of fraying earlier in the evening it was ragged now. "I can't tell you how reassuring that is," Kimberly managed bravely. "Go back to your room, Kim," he said softly. "Why?"

"Because if you stay here much longer, you won't be going back at all. Is that plain enough for you?"

She stepped away from the door, clutching the old terry cloth robe tightly around herself. "I'm your wife,
Cavenaugh
. Maybe I don't want to go back to my bed alone ... I have a right to be here with you."

"Don't talk to me about rights!"

"Then let's talk about why you're afraid of rushing me," she flung back, goaded. "What are you afraid of rushing me into? Bed? I'm not trying to resist, in case you hadn't noticed!" He set down the brandy glass with a fierce clatter and came up out of the chair with a lethally graceful movement. Nude from the waist up, his face carved in harsh, rigid lines,
Cavenaugh
was a formidable opponent to face in the dark. Kimberly almost lost her courage.

Placatingly
she held out one hand. "
Cavenaugh
, how long do you think we can last in separate bedrooms?"

"Until you trust me enough to let yourself love me again," he told her with barely suppressed violence.

"I don't want you in my bed until you can say you love me the way you did before I mishandled that business with your grandparents." She stared at him. "I don't think you've been doing your usual hot job of reading my mind lately," she finally said weakly. Her hands were trembling, and she clutched at the tie of the robe in an effort to still them. "Reading your mind has always been a fairly haphazard business,"
Cavenaugh
rasped. "Maybe it's because you've got a rather haphazard way of thinking. A feminine way of thinking," he clarified accusingly. "Is that right? And I suppose your thinking processes are more intelligible? Well, let me tell you something,
Cavenaugh
, I haven't been able to figure out what's going on in ... that male head of yours for weeks! I've been wondering why on earth you even bothered to marry me, for example."

"Because I love you!" he exploded. "Why else would I marry you?"

"Sex, companionship, to acquire someone who can protect you from your oversized sense of responsibility, because you felt grateful to me: all kinds of reasons!" His eyes glittered and his voice was raw.

"I married you because I love you, Kim." She caught her breath. "Well, that's why I married you. So why are we spending our wedding night in separate bedrooms?" she whispered achingly.
Cavenaugh
moved then, gliding across the floor to scoop her up into his arms. He swung her around with a fierce exuberance and tossed her down on the bed. Then he was lying heavily on top of her, pinning her to the bedclothes. "Kim, are you sure? Are you very, very sure? I was so afraid that I'd ruined everything." She speared her fingers through his hair, her heart in her eyes. "
Cavenaugh
, I've never stopped loving you. I was angry and hurt and I was sure you couldn't possibly have loved me or you wouldn't have pulled a stunt like that, but I never stopped loving you."

"I only did it because I thought it was for the best, Kim. I wanted you to be completely free of the past, free to love me. I needed all of you."

"I understand, darling."

"Do you really?" He was studying her with a burning intensity. Kimberly's mouth curved gently. "I didn't say I approved. I said I understood. There's a difference, I've learned."

"Tell me about it!" he grated hoarsely, and then he kissed her with rough passion. As she began to respond he lifted his head again. "I know I'm not what you thought you wanted in a man. But I love you so very much, sweetheart. That love is going to get us through the communication problems, I swear it."

"You mean through all the times when you're having trouble comprehending my '' thinking processes?" she teased softly. "Actually, I've been meaning to tell you that I'm thinking of changing the character of Josh Valerian slightly."

"Is that so?"

"Umm. I'm going to make him a little more like you. Not quite so comprehensible to the heroine, but maybe a bit more interesting."

"I love the way your mind works," he assured her deeply, bending his head to nibble provocatively behind her ear. "At the moment I'm having trouble thinking at all," she confided, slipping her hands across his shoulders. "Don't worry about it. I'll do all the thinking for us." He lifted himself slightly away and undid the tie of her robe.

"You look so damn sexy in a T-shirt."

"I would have looked even sexier in my new nightgown. But when I realized you weren't going to come to my room tonight or invite me into yours, I decided not to waste it," she told him sadly. "So you just put on your usual T-shirt and this old robe and trotted down the hall to confront me, hmm?" He was toying with the hem of the T-shirt, inching it slowly up to her waist. "Thank God you did. I was going crazy in here telling myself I had to be patient, in fact, I've been going crazy for the past six weeks convincing myself I had to give you time to learn to love me again."

"And I've been going crazy wondering if you would ever learn to love me. Ah,
Cavenaugh
, we've both been fools, haven't we?"

"No. We've just been having a little trouble communicating. It won't happen again."

"You t
hink
not?"

"Well, I suppose we're always going to have to work around the fact that you are a woman ... "And you're a man."

"Umm. And in some ways the communication problem will always exist between us."
Cavenaugh
lost patience with the T-shirt and stripped it oft over her head. "But I expect that's why love got invented," he stated confidently. "To help men and woman communicate? An interesting anthropological theory,
Cavenaugh
." She laughed up at him with her eyes, her body warming under his. "Do you really love me?" Her hands twined around his neck. "More than anything else on earth." He was suddenly deadly serious. "Don't ever doubt that, Kim. There will be times when I'll have my hands full with other matters and other people's problems. But there will never be a time when my heart isn't full of love for you. Do you understand?"

"Yes,
Cavenaugh
. I understand. And there will be times when my haphazard mind will seem full of plots and characters but there will never be a time when I am not completely in love with you."

"Good."