Never Marry a Cowboy (26 page)

If Kit wasn't going to get mad, she was. “Shouldn't he have loved
you
enough not to ask or expect of you what he did?”

“You have to understand the bond between Christopher and me.”

“So if I asked you to end my life you'd send in Christopher to do it?” she snapped.

“No.” He shifted his gaze to her and trailed his fingers along her face. The depth of love reflected in his eyes was enough to make her want to weep. “No, I want to be the one to grant all your desires. Taking a life is not an easy task. I cannot fault Christopher for shying away from it. He did not hold a gun to my head. He simply gave me the opportunity to give to Clarisse what I could.”

“But at what cost to you?”

“At a price I was willing to pay.”

She felt deflated as she studied his face. “I don't think I'll ever understand.”

“You don't have to. You only have to know that my love for Christopher is such that I would do anything for him.” He trailed his thumb over her lower lip. “Just as I would do anything for you.”

He eased his face nearer to hers. “Earlier, you said that you loved me.”

She nodded.

“And here we lie with our bodies pressed close.”

Again she nodded.

“When it was only last night that you asked me not to touch you.”

“Last night I didn't understand,” she whispered.

“Why I killed Clarisse?”

She shook her head. “What it would feel like to lose you.” Tears welled in her eyes. “When Mrs. Gurney said you were going to face the outlaws—” A sob broke free and a shudder ran through her body. “Oh, Kit, I was so frightened! I didn't want you to die!”

“So the tears you wept earlier were for me?”

“Of course they were,” she said.

“And if I were to press my lips to yours, you would welcome my kiss?”

“With all my heart.”

His mouth covered hers with a desperation that spoke volumes. She combed her fingers up into his hair, holding him in place, wondering how she had ever managed to doubt his motives, to distrust his actions. He had risked his soul for Clarisse, risked his life for the people of this town, and risked his heart for her.

“B
y God, I cannot…believe how…wrong I was!”

Standing in his father's room with Christopher beside him, Kit listened to his father's slurred words, watched his face contort as he forced himself to speak. Kit felt the unbearable ache in his chest at the sight of his father trying to maintain his dignity.

“You instill loyalty in men…understand the true measure of responsibility…are willing to make the greatest of all sacrifices to protect those who have entrusted you with their care. Who would have thought it?”

He pointed a trembling finger at Kit. “You were born first for a reason, but I thought I was wiser.” His father shook his head. “I was a fool. You are the heir of Ravenleigh, and soon you shall bear its title.”

Kit crouched before him. “You have prepared Christopher for the role, and he has always expected to hold the title. It is not fair now to deprive him of it.”

“Fair?” his father croaked. “You talk of fair when
you have been cheated since birth?” His father wrinkled his grizzled face and poked his finger, with no strength, into Kit's shoulder. “You see? Again you prove my point.”

Kit resisted the urge to scoff. “I was also sent here for a reason. I am not a worthy heir, regardless of what you think. My reputation is scandalous.”

His father moved his finger in a circle as though he were stirring tea within a cup. “No one will know. You need only switch names.”

Kit glanced up at Christopher. With usual British aplomb, Christopher had shuttered his emotions so his face revealed none of the inner turmoil with which Kit knew he was struggling. Emotions Kit battled as well.

Taking the black book that held his father's sins, Kit stood. “Is this the only evidence we have that mentions what happened the night we were born?”

“Yes,” Christopher said succinctly. “The physician has since passed away.”

Kit tore a page from the book before placing the journal in the hearth.

“What are you doing?” Christopher asked.

Kit rolled the paper and inserted one end into the lamp until the flame reached up and set the paper alight. He removed it from the lamp, knelt, and placed it against one corner of the book. With fascination, he watched the flames lick greedily at his offering.

“That does not change the truth!” his father spat.

“No, but it removes the evidence.”

His father pounded his fist on the arm of the chair. “I want you to be the heir!”

Kit stood and faced his father squarely. Never had words been so difficult to speak.

“When you arranged for Christopher to marry Clarisse, knowing what I felt for her, you asked me to put Ravenleigh first. And I did. I held my silence and I put what I valued most—the heritage of Ravenleigh—above what I treasured most.

“When you feared I did not have the strength of character to keep my hands off my brother's wife, you asked me to put Ravenleigh first and to leave the home that I loved, and I did as you bade.

“Now, you're asking me again to put what I value above what I treasure.” He held his father's gaze. “This time, Father, I cannot. I have always loved Ravenleigh. I thought no greater love existed, but I was wrong, for I love Ashton more. I will not leave her—not for all the earldoms in England.”

He watched his father's jaws tighten. “Then bring her.”

“And condemn her to death? The English winters are harsh, wet, and cold. She might survive one, but I doubt she would survive two. Regardless, this time, I am placing what I treasure most above what I value.”

“You can't!”

“I can and I will.”

“I am not going to claim what is not mine by right,” Christopher said adamantly.

“I will not leave my wife to die alone,” Kit insisted.

Christopher met his gaze. “You are overlooking the obvious solution, brother. You shall take my place and return to England with Father, and I shall stand in your stead and hold your wife as you held mine.”

“If only it were that simple, Christopher. Unfortunately, it is not.”

“You are doing this to spite me,” his father grumbled.

“No, Father. My heart is no longer at Ravenleigh. Christopher cannot say the same. Can you, brother?”

“My feelings on this matter are of no consequence.”

Kit smiled. “You offered to stand in my stead. Do it at Ravenleigh and not here.” He bowed slightly. “Now, if you gentlemen will excuse me, my wife awaits.”

Christopher shook his head slightly. “You know you can go out the front door instead of the window.”

Kit winked at his brother. “Not tonight.”

 

With the flame burning low within the lamp on the table while she lay in the bed, Ashton stared at the ceiling, Kit's words resounding in her head.

If only it were that simple
…

Kit had told her that he wanted to speak with his father and brother alone. She'd gone downstairs for some warm milk. She had not intended to eavesdrop, but the door stood slightly ajar and their deep voices carried into the hallway.

If only it were that simple
…

Again, Kit was sacrificing everything for her. He would not leave her to die alone, regardless of the cost to himself.

The door opened, and she watched her husband stroll in, a lazy smile enhancing his features.

“Still awake?” he asked as though he'd expected nothing different.

She thought she would never love him more than she did at this moment. She nodded slightly, etching into her memory the manner in which he removed his clothes, slowly, seductively, as though he knew how much she enjoyed the sensual performance.

“How did the talk go with your father and brother?”

“It went well. I destroyed Father's journal so there is no evidence to indicate anyone other than Christopher is the rightful heir to Ravenleigh. I think Christopher is much relieved. He can take up the reins now with no guilt.”

He sat on the bed and tugged off his boots. “Besides, he's in love.”

“How do you know?”

He shrugged. “I sensed it tonight. I suppose it's the woman Father arranged for him to marry. If I accepted Ravenleigh, I would take from him not only the title, but the woman he wants.”

She reached over and placed her palm against his warm, bare back.

“What about you?”

He leaned back and threaded his fingers through her hair. “I have what I want.”

He kissed her tenderly, sweetly, his lips playing over hers as though they had all night to do so.

“Father and Christopher leave for Galveston tomorrow to hail a ship back to England. I thought we might travel with them, perhaps spend a week at the shore before we go to Dallas.”

“We go to Dallas?” she repeated inanely.

“Yes, I thought you might want to tell David in per
son that you've decided to stay with me,” he said as he nuzzled her neck.

“Did I decide that?” she asked quietly.

He drew back and cupped her face between his hands. “I know there are things you want that I cannot give you, but we can still have a meaningful life together.”

“For how long?”

“For as long as we breathe. You told me this afternoon that it frightened you to think that I might die. Do you not think I feel the same way each night when I fall off to sleep, hoping every morning when I awake that you'll still be with me?”

“But our staying together is so unfair to you, it deprives you of so much.”

“It deprives me of nothing as long as you are with me.” He returned his lips to her throat. “Stay with me.”

He skimmed his hand along her leg, lifting her nightgown. “Stay with me.”

She became powerless when his words were accompanied by the magic of passion. “Pleasure me,” she rasped.

His mouth swooped down to cover hers, urgent, needy. She could have this passion every night for the remainder of her life. Desire, strong and powerful, surged through her while his tongue moved within her mouth as his body had once stroked hers. She knew they would never again experience a complete joining, but for tonight it didn't matter.

Tonight she wanted what he offered, even if it fell short of all she desired. She needed the memory of
this night, of their giving to each other what they could.

With his hands, he worked to make their clothes disappear, and then they were flesh to flesh, heat to heat, trembling, writhing, touching, exploring. He had always been the aggressor while she had taken what he offered. But not tonight.

Tonight she wanted more, needed more. She wanted to give all that she had taken.

She moaned in wonder as his mouth began its sojourn along her body, tantalizing her breasts, his tongue swirling and circling before his mouth closed around her nipple and he suckled gently. Pleasure spiraled through her.

He moved lower and dipped his tongue into her navel, and lower still until he kissed her most intimately. She gasped as pleasure peaked under the guidance of his relentless, skillful pursuit. He knew her needs and where to find their solace.

She trembled as he carried her to the highest wave of the tempest and lifted her over.

Kit placed his head on the pillow of her stomach and slid his finger inside Ashton. He smiled with pure male satisfaction. “I love the way you throb afterward,” he said quietly.

“Could you feel me throbbing the last night when we were together like this?” she asked.

He lifted his gaze to hers. “Yes.”

“Couldn't you just…for a moment…”

“No.” He kissed her stomach and shifted upward to kiss her breast. “You have no idea how hard it is for me to hold back. I'm close to bursting now.”

She combed her fingers through his hair. “If I can find pleasure without our bodies joined, why can't you?”

She watched his throat work as he swallowed. “I can,” he rasped.

“Teach me.”

He tangled his fingers in her hair and brought her mouth to his, kissing her deeply, hungrily. He rolled to his back and she levered above him on her elbow, keeping her mouth mated to his, her hand pressed against his chest.

He took her wrist and tore his mouth from hers before kissing her palm and each of her fingers. He captured her gaze. “Are you certain?”

She nodded. “But the rule is that you have to look at me, right?”

He gave her a seductive smile. “Right.”

He lowered her hand and she wrapped her fingers tightly around him. He groaned low in his throat, his gaze never leaving hers. He guided her hand until she understood the rhythm, then he cupped her breast, kneading the soft, pliant flesh as she stroked him.

She heard his breathing change into short, gasping breaths as his eyes darkened. The fingers entangled in her hair tightened. He grunted as his body arched and she felt his hot seed spurt into her hand.

He shuddered and his body relaxed beneath hers. She pressed a kiss to his dew-coated throat.

“I love the way you throb,” she said huskily.

He laughed low before tracing the outline of her face with his finger. “I love you, Ashton.”

“But is it fair to you if this is all we'll ever have?”

He drew her head down to his chest, and she heard the rapid pounding of his heart.

“We can make it be enough,” he told her. “I promise.”

 

“He is so bloody obstinate!” Christopher glared at the moon as though it were the source of his anger.

A small, albeit strong, hand covered his where it rested on the arm of the rocker. “You should tell him how you feel.”

“Dear God, Elizabeth, he
knows
how I feel! He knows my thoughts as well as I know his. He is well aware that I came here out of a sense of obligation and fairness, that I covet Ravenleigh and its title. He does as well, though he claims to love Ashton more. But she is to die, and then what? He shall spend the remainder of his life alone. At least if he returned to England he could marry.”

“Is she pretty?”

He glanced at her. “She is frail, ethereal. She reminds me of a fairy. Have you not met Ashton?”

Elizabeth smiled warmly. “I meant the woman your father has arranged for you to marry.”

“Ah.” He sighed. “I have yet to meet her.” He furrowed his brow. “I can't recall her name. Father mentioned it in passing when he told me that he had made the arrangements, but I did not care. My heart was still on Clarisse.” He turned to face her squarely. “That's hardly fair to her, is it? The woman I'm to marry, I mean.”

She squeezed his hand. “I wouldn't worry. You're bound to learn her name before you marry her. Be
sides, once you've met her, maybe she'll help you to stop missing Clarisse.”

He cradled her cheek. “Who shall help you to stop missing Daniel?”

He watched her smile wither, and she licked her lips. “I don't thing about Daniel so much anymore. I feel guilty about that sometimes.”

He leaned nearer. “I have a confession to make. I haven't thought of Clarisse since the first night I sat on your porch until dawn.”

He brushed his thumb over her lips. “I desperately want to kiss you. Do you suppose being in the position I am of being betrothed that it would be an unforgivable offense if I were to give in to temptation just once?”

She shook her head slightly, and he felt her pulse quicken where his palm pressed against her throat. He lowered his mouth to hers, drinking greedily of the sweet nectar she offered, and cursing his brother for condemning him to hell with his act of generosity.

 

Languidly, Kit awoke and stretched. He had not slept this well in years. He rolled over to draw his wife into his embrace and discovered he was alone. His gaze quickly darted around the empty room. She'd no doubt risen early to relish the sunrise.

He got out of bed and saw to his morning routine of getting ready for the day. Ashton would need to purchase a few more items before they left for Galveston. Whatever else her heart desired, he would purchase for her there.