WeresDigest (6 page)

“You mean you don’t trust yourself, don’t you?”

She didn’t reply, but Max saw the frown developing on
her brow. “What is it?”

Carrie pressed her nose against the window and with a
gasp turned to him. “Where the devil are you taking me? Oh, my! Is that a
castle over yonder?”

“Yes, it’s my castle, my home.”

“I can’t go home with you! Why, my mum and brothers
will worry.”

“Ah, is that all? I had thought you’d say you are a
good girl,” he purred.

“I am! Bloody hell, Max, you turn this carriage around
and take me home.”

“Afraid I can’t do that.”

“Of course you can.”

He stood up and sat down beside her, drawing her into
his arms. “I’ve waited my entire life to find my mate, and now that I have I
can’t allow you to leave. I can’t,” he finished on a whisper.

Raising her brow in surprise, Carrie asked, “So you’re
resorting to kidnapping me then?”

“Yes, I couldn’t think of any other way to get you to
come home with me.”

Pressing against his embrace, she spat, “And just how
long do you plan on keeping me a prisoner?”

“Why, until we ma…marry, of course.”
Forever!

“You promised to court me,” she reminded him.

* * * *

His words stunned her. Carrie wondered how she ever
felt she could trust this man—learn to love him as she did. He’d outright lied
to her, and her heart broke. He was nothing but a selfish, insensitive cad, and
she hated him. She would not make this claiming easy for him. No, and in the
end, she’d make him pay for taking her against her will.

Sulking in her seat as she stared out the window,
refusing to meet his gaze she knew was on her, she decided she wouldn’t fight
him. Much. She hadn’t really, thus far. Her cheeks burned as she thought about
what she’d just done to him. Serviced him, which meant she was nothing more
than a common whore.

“What are you thinking?”

Maybe tears would work.

“I want to go home, Max. Please?” She allowed one tear
to roll down her cheek, then another, and she wasn’t faking them. They were
real, as real as this situation.

“Not yet,” his low voice rumbled. “Afterwards.”
Never!
He started to stand when she held up her palm.

“Stop! You stay there. I don’t want you near me.”

“All right, but we’ll be at the castle soon,” he
warned as he sank back and folded his arms across his chest.

Carrie was frightened, yet excited. While she knew
something about men, she didn’t really know this man all that well. Oh, she
knew from the beginning he hadn’t killed the woman outside the tavern. Carrie
had always been told she read people well, and instinctively knew Max wasn’t
the poor woman’s murderer. She needed to face the truth of the matter; she
wanted this man, wanted to marry him, still she wasn’t ready to make the
confession. Then she thought of her mother.

“But what about my family?” she whispered.

“I’ve already sent a messenger to your mother, asking
her permission for you to marry me.”

With a sigh, Carrie knew she hadn’t a chance of
finding her way out of this. For how could her mother and brothers turn down
the offer from a duke’s son? Truthfully, she had no desire to leave Max. She
wanted to be with him, but on
her
terms, and she hadn’t changed her mind
on that. By the end of this night, he’d be begging for her, pleading with her
to marry him. Frowning, she mused, or things could be the reversed and she’d be
the one squirming, pleading, begging.

The carriage stopped suddenly, the door opened and Max
was there, his hand out and ready for hers. With another huge sigh, she reached
out for his hand, grasped it as he pulled her from the carriage. Tucking her
arm through his, he patted one hand and murmured sweet utterances in her ear,
between tiny kisses.

She supposed there could be far worse things that
could happen to a girl, than having a duke’s son seduce her.

* * * *

“Sign the damned thing, you old bastard!”

Walter Evans, the Duke of Freemont, glared impotently
into the eyes of a man he hadn’t seen in years—his daughter’s betrothed—Canton
Mason. The man was still obnoxious, unreasonable, and dangerous. The duke had
no doubt now that he’d been cursed by the man, whom he now new was the evilest
of wizards. In one moment, he’d been able to speak and move about, but now he
was stiff as a board, unable to respond, unable to write with the pen the
wizard had tucked into his hand, which, the duke supposed, was a good thing. If
he signed the document, all of his worldly possessions upon his death,
including this castle, would go to Mason.

“If you ever want to see your daughter again, you’ll
change this blasted will.”

The duke shook his head, guessing Mason had already
murdered his poor daughter long ago. He smashed his eyes shut readying himself
for the pain he knew would soon riddle his body. It wasn’t long before he heard
Canton Mason mutter indecipherable gibberish, before pain tore through the
duke.

Sweat poured from him yet he made himself breathe
deeply in order to help bear the pain. God, he prayed one of the servants would
stop soon to check in on him, prayed it wouldn’t be too late. Already, Mason
had been with him for a quarter of an hour.

Blessed relief soared through the duke’s heart when he
heard Simon’s boisterous laughter sounding out in the hallway. How could he
have forgotten about Simon’s daily visits, at the same time of day,
mid-afternoon?

The wizard cursed again, knowing his time here was
short, then held his hands aloft, all fingers pointing at the duke. “You fool!
You’ll never see your daughter again, even if you had signed it! She’s dead, do
you hear me,” he seethed. “Dead. I killed her within months of taking her.”

The Duke felt pain and sorrow twist like a knife into
his heart, a pain worse than what the wizard inflicted upon him. “You will sign
the will—all of your goods over to me next time I visit, your lordship, or
die,” he sneered.

Mason knew, if he met and fought each of the duke’s
sons singly, he’d win, but together, a power of three, he was uncertain. He
would have opportunities to pick them off, one by one, but not here in this
castle filled with fighting men, he decided as he twirled a knife around his
body.

In a black cloud of smoke Mason disappeared, but not
before Simon saw him.

Simon rushed to his grandfather’s side and sank onto
the bed beside him. “What in the hell was that? Tell me, Grandfather!”

The duke shook his head wearily, opened his mouth to
speak, but not a sound could he make. Simon gently lifted him higher in the
bed. “Can you tell me what happened?”

* * * *

Chills swept through Simon when his grandfather
pointed to his throat and shook his head. Gently stroking hair back from his
grandfather’s forehead, Simon knew then he couldn’t speak. Whatever that thing
was that he’d caught but a fleeting glimpse, had done this to him. Simon could
feel the evil still lurking in the room. Leaning over, he kissed his
grandfather’s cheek. “Rest. I’m sending Dora in to stay with you the rest of
the night.”

Simon caught the slight smile on his grandfather’s
face as he rose from the bed and stalked from the room. He took the steps
swiftly down to the kitchen, calling out, “Dora! Dora, I need you.”

Dora, second housekeeper in command, rushed from the
kitchen. “Yes, my lord, what is it?”

Pausing in front of her, he took her old, gnarled
hands in his. “Something has happened to my grandfather. I want you to stay
with him, and stay awake and watch over him, for as long as you can. I’ll
return in a few hours with Max and Jake to relieve you.”

“Yes, m’lord, I shall be happy to sit with his
lordship.”

“Thank you.” Simon sighed and tried to form an excuse
to tell the woman—other than the truth—which could frighten her. “I believe he
may have had some sort of fit, and can no longer move or talk. I’ll be back
shortly.”

He strode into the great hall, satisfied that Dora
would watch over his grandfather. Just as he called out, “Jake, Max! Where in
the hell are you two?” Jake appeared from the kitchens, gnawing on a turkey
leg.

“We need to talk,” Simon said. “Where’s Max?”

Max entered the great hall then, towing a petite,
curvy woman with gold-rimmed spectacles on her small nose.
Ah, so this is
Max’s mate.
Knowing who the woman was, Simon couldn’t reach Jake in time to
warn him of the fact, somehow guessing Jake would poke fun, believing the young
woman to be a harlot to entertain them this night.

“So, you’ve brought us a new delight to share for our
evening romp,” Jake said, grinning broadly. “How thoughtful, Max!” he said
boisterously.

Max released the woman, stalked over to Jake, and
delivered a blow to his jaw that felled him. Jake stared up from the floor in
confusion, shock, then fury, Simon noted wryly, the turkey leg still clutched
in his hand. Damn. It seemed he’d have to intervene in order to keep one of
them from killing the other, so he rushed over and grabbed Max’s arm, sending
him a silent warning with one long, dark look.

 Slowly, Jake sat up and threw the turkey leg across
the hall before turning on his brother. “What in the hell is wrong with you?”

“Never put Carrie in the same position as your doxies,
never!” Max bellowed.

“Just having a bit of fun is all,” Jake said sullenly
as he rose to his feet, still rubbing his jaw. “And how would I know that she’s
the one?”

Never forget, brother, in the past, you were more than
happy to participate in a mutual dalliance.
Simon decided it wise not to mention the fact aloud, however.

“Introduce us to your mate,” Simon said, deciding it
wise to wait until later, when the three brothers could be alone to discuss the
awful happenings of this night regarding their grandfather.

Max straightened up and placed a secure arm around
Carrie’s waist. “This is Carrie Sweeney. Meet my brothers, Simon and Jake.”

Chapter
Five

Awe and trepidation flowed through Carrie as she
looked upon Max’s brothers. They were all large and intimidating, and utterly
handsome, sinfully so. They all held an astonishingly male, earthy aura about
them that made her feel small, feminine, and weak. This was an unusual
experience for Carrie to have since she was used to men, being surrounded by
them at home—males older and much larger than she was.

She also noted they wore charming smiles on their lips
and she felt heat seep up to the very roots of her hair.

Simon, the largest of the three, dressed in a broadcloth
shirt and serviceable work pants, bowed and swallowed up her small hand in his
rough one. He placed a kiss on the top of her hand then murmured, “A pleasure,
Miss Carrie.”

Jake, dressed in a white silk shirt with billowy
sleeves, tan pants that fit his build to perfection, and a blinding gold
stock-style necktie, stepped up then as soon as Simon released her hand and
recaptured it. Carrie grimaced when she saw the bruise that had formed on his
jaw from Max’s fist.

Squeezing her hand lightly, Jake leaned forward and
daringly brushed her cheek with his lips. “Enchanting, you are, Miss Carrie,
and much too good for my brother, in my opinion.” He heard Max’s warning growl,
released her then and stepped back.

“I’m happy to meet all of you,” she whispered. Gazing
around her, she looked at the massive hall, decorated sparsely but well, and
smiled at Max. “This is a castle.”

Max grinned. “You knew I lived in one.”

“Yes, I did, but…well…I’ve never before been in one.”

“Would you like me to take you on a tour?” he asked.

She smiled back and grabbed his hand. “Yes, please.”

Max looked at his brothers. “We’ll partake supper in
my rooms, so don’t wait for us.

Jake grinned. “You know, why don’t I come along then
on the tour. I could give Carrie a completely different perspec…”

“Hell…no,” Max growled. He grabbed Carrie’s arm and
scurried away with her down one hallway, the loud guffaws from his brothers
following in his wake.

As soon as Max turned down another long hallway, he
paused, twirled Carrie into his arms and pressed her back against the castle
wall.

* * * *

Carrie gasped then giggled when Max’s bewhiskered chin
brushed her collarbone as he kissed the pulse behind her ear. “Max, stop!” she
said, pressing against his shoulders. He moved back and his eyes glittered with
lust, his attention fully on her. “You promised me a tour, remember?”

“Thank you for the reminder.” He pulled her swiftly
down another long hallway and took a turn, starting up a long winding set of
stone steps.

She laughed. “Where are you taking me?”

“To the most important view in this castle,” he
announced. “My rooms.” Max paused in front of an enormous sturdy wooden door
and opened it. He pulled Carrie inside, slammed the door, and locked it.
Leaning back against it, his eyes sparkling with laughter and, dare she think
it, a look of utter possessiveness. For her.

Carrie wanted him every bit as much as he wanted her,
she guessed. She gave him a dimpled smile as she folded her arms across her
breasts and peered around the room. Splashes of golds
and reds filled
the cavernous room, bringing intimate warmth to it. The colors suited Max, she
decided, and her as well. Carrie shivered at the sight of his bed centered
against one curving wall covered in lush red and gold satin; Max’s room seemed
to occupy one turret in the castle. Plush fur and patterned rugs covered the
stone floor. Against another wall was an enormous stone fireplace, with a fire
burning merrily in the hearth.

Right before the fire was a table set for two with
fine white linens, silver goblets, and china dishes. There were two
silver-colored dishes with covers; Carrie saw steam escaping from them.

Max sauntered over to the table, efficiently poured
them each a glass of wine, returned to her, and passed her a goblet. He raised
his up and murmured seductively, “To many such delightful evenings as this.”

She raised her glass, smiled and sipped from the cup.
This wine was unlike anything she’d ever tasted. The King’s Tavern’s wine
couldn’t compare. She closed her eyes, sighed appreciatively at the fruity
taste and swallowed down the sip. “This wine is wonderful.”

“Finish up then, for we’ve an entire meal to consume
as well.”

 “I’m not all that hungry,” she whispered.

“I am,” he announced, his eyes flashing with potent
passion.

Heat seeped into her cheeks. She clutched the goblet
and backed away from him.

His small smile widened as he set his own goblet down
on the mantle, folded his arms behind his back, and sauntered toward her. He
wore a rakish look that unsettled yet thrilled her, with his sensuous lips wide
and smiling, his eyes sparkling with bedevilment and one lock of golden hair
having fallen forward on his forehead, she knew she’d give into his amorous
advances, and likely lay down with him. She couldn’t deny her attraction for
this man, and somehow, mysterious as he seemed, she felt safe with him. He
wanted to marry her. She took a quick gulp of the wine then set her own cup
down on the table beside the bed.

She frowned then as she thought about the one
brother’s words. Hadn’t he said that Max should introduce them to his mate? How
strange a term to use for marriage, she mused, growing uneasy again.

Her eyes widened as his saunter turned into a stride
and hitching up her skirts, she shrieked and scrambled across the bed, putting
distance between them. Max leaned against a bedpost and quirked an eyebrow.
“You aren’t afraid of me, are you?”

Narrowing her eyes on him and tilting her head to one
side, she said, “It depends on what you’re planning on doing.”

He dropped his arms and headed around the end of the
bed. “Everything. I want to give you utter pleasure, Carrie. Pleasure unlike
anything you’ve ever experienced before. Mate with…marry me, Carrie.”

“Eventually,” she said with a nod. “But you promised
to court me.”

She knew she would give into him this night, for it’s
what she wanted too. He’d affectively broken down all of the barriers she’d
built between them. And now realized none of those barriers mattered, for she
knew she’d give into him—as easily as he wished. He would dance a bit to her
wishes, first. But then doubts entered her mind. What if he only wanted to bed
her and didn’t want to marry her? After all, she was only a poor maid, with no
title or dowry to bring to a marriage.

He sighed. “Is it truly all that important to you?
Can’t I do so afterwards?”

“Afterwards…what?”

“Court you, after we make love.”

She saw the expression on his face of utter sincerity
and made up her mind to trust him. God would surely damn him and her brothers
would kill him if he wasn’t sincere and married her before her family and God.

Bracing herself against the wall beside the bed, she
closed her eyes and bit her lower lip.
“Yes,” she finally whispered.
Keeping her eyes tightly shut she gasped when she felt his soft lips brush
hers. Her heart raced when she felt him slip an arm around her waist, dragging
her up against him. The male scent of him, a combination of leather, tobacco,
and whiskey, made her dizzy

“Open your eyes so you can see the love in mine,” he
demanded.

She obeyed and tears filled her eyes as she stared
into his melting blue ones. Soon her spectacles were smudged from her tears and
he smiled and eased them from her nose, setting them on the nearby bureau. He
returned to her, lifted her in his arms, walked around the bed, and settled
into a large chaise chair situated near the hearth. Holding her sideways, his
arms around her, he settled his chin on the top of her pale hair and sighed.

Carrie couldn’t recall when she’d ever felt so
safe…and dare she say it…so loved.

Max set her forward a bit, leaned down, and nuzzled
the side of her neck, then the pulse behind her ear and she gasped. Then she
groaned at the shivery sensations in her spine when he nipped at her shoulder,
through her blouse.

His fingers slid down her back and cool air swept
across her back and shoulders. Carrie was stunned that he’d managed to unbutton
her blouse so quickly as he eased her out of her bodice, slid her arms out of
the sleeves, and tossed the garment to the floor. Seconds later, he removed her
camisole, and then her corset with practiced ease.

He took her shoulders and turned her a bit so she
faced him. His gaze slowly and appreciatively took in her face, neck,
shoulders, and her breasts, where they lingered the longest. Carrie
instinctively raised her hands to cover her breasts but he held her wrists at
her sides and shook his head.

“You are incredible, Carrie. The most beautiful woman
I’ve ever seen.”

She gulped. “Are you saying you’ve seen many
women…unclothed,” she said, sounding prim and proper, which was ridiculous, she
decided.

Frowning, he said, “Yes, I have, too many. But I was
searching for…well…it’s not important any longer.”

“Should we—move to the bed?” she said daringly.

He turned her around so her back was to him. Lifting
each of her limbs, he placed one over each of his thighs. Carrie sat rigidly,
staring wide-eyed at the fire, wondering what he planned.

“Lean back, against me, and lay your head upon my
shoulder.”

That sounded lovely, safe, and she felt so tired it
took no convincing whatsoever as she sank against him with her head on his
shoulder. Closing her eyes, sleepiness unlike any she’d ever felt settled over
her body as the warmth from the fire licked across her torso. A slight brushing
sensation across her breasts prompted her to open her eyes and looking down she
found his big hands on her, his fingers caressing her nipples.

She groaned as he plucked her nipples simultaneously
and a low ache settled between her legs. She tried lifting one leg from his
knee, intent upon rubbing her thighs together to give herself release from the
dull, low ache but his hands moved down to her thighs and held them in
position.

“Don’t move, don’t shift your legs. Just stay as still
for as long as you can.”

She went rigid and started to turn to him but he
placed his hands on her head, on either side, and said, “I won’t harm you. I
only want to give you pleasure. I want to love you, and you will allow me this,
Carrie. I will soon be your husband, and your master, as you will be my wife
and love for all time. And as my wife, you must consent to my every wish.”

If any other man had been so demanding, Carrie knew
she would have screamed at the top of her lungs and kicked him in the shins
before making her escape. But from Max, the commanding words sounded right. She
would allow him to make love to her, to master her, for she knew he would bring
her nothing but exquisite pleasure. Already, just sitting in his arms, she felt
more passion than she ever believed possible between a man and woman.

She gave a slight nod then leaned back against him
once more. Carrie felt his breathing hitch, then he released a deep sigh. He
resumed his touching, and plucking her nipples until the sensations between her
legs left her feeling hot and achy and wonderful. She squirmed a bit on his lap
and he took his hands from her nipples and eased her to stand between his legs.
With his hands on her waist, he turned her to face him, his eyes burning over her
body as he settled back in the chair and clutched the arms.

“Remove your skirts, stockings, and shoes,
sweetheart.”

Carrie obeyed for she couldn’t do anything else as she
met his mesmerizing gaze. Somehow, for the first time ever, she felt powerful
standing before him. Even with her myopic vision, she could see how her body
affected him, from the rigid settling of his body on the chair, to the tight
jaw and narrowed eyes and lips. He appeared to be holding himself back, she
decided as she undid the buttons on the side of her skirt and it slid to the
floor, followed quickly by her underskirt and finally, the last vestige of her
modesty, her bloomers. Reaching up to one thigh to remove her white cotton
stockings she paused when he spoke.

“Leave them on, but remove the shoes.”

Looking at him with what she knew was a quizzical
expression she eased off her sensible low- heeled shoes. She couldn’t meet his
eyes and again her cheeks heated up at the thought of him staring so intently
at her naked body. Carrie was self-conscious about her plump bottom, and she
kept her front side to him the entire time. Her breasts were also large and
melon-shaped but they jutted out nicely and she knew men appreciated them for
she’d seen them looking at them at the King’s Tavern.

Finished undressing, she stood before him, so close
she could reach out and touch him. Clenching her hands at her stomach, her legs
tightly together, she met the potent, heated look on his face. His face, with
the fire illuminating it, made it appear craggy, harsher somehow. He seemed to
have sprouted more of a beard, she noted. How strange! Glancing down at his
hands, she frowned when she saw him still clutching the armrests. His hands
were large, tanned, and mostly hairless, now appeared to be covered in a fine
growth of hair. Perhaps, in daylight, she hadn’t noticed because of the light,
and the fine growth of hair was also pale—the same color as his hair. But now,
with the glimmering firelight the hair seemed more dense.