Prince Charming

“It happened a long time ago, Belle, and it doesn’t have anything to do with my marriage.”

“I’m just reminding you it’s in your nature to protect,” she countered.

“It’s also in my nature to be free,” he said then.

She chuckled. “I heard another contradiction, son. You said you’re married, then you said you aren’t. How long do you plan to go on like this?”

“I’m going to have to talk to Taylor and find out how long she wants to stay married. We’ve talked about getting an annulment or a divorce. I don’t think it matters to her.”

“Which do you prefer?”

“An annulment,” he answered. “There would be less of a stigma.”

Belle snorted with disbelief. “If she comes from money, she’s social. She’s going to be shunned either way. Does she realize that?”

“She doesn’t seem to care.”

“Now that’s mighty odd,” Belle remarked. “Most ladies would care.”

Yes, Lucas thought. The majority of women would care. Why didn’t Taylor? He recalled a remark she’d made earlier in the evening when she was going on and on about the list of reasons she’d memorized that were legally acceptable to the court for a divorce petition, and during the long-winded explanation, she mentioned her reputation didn’t matter.

Belle downed the contents of her glass, motioned for Lucas to pour her another drink, and then leaned forward.

She grilled him with question after question about Taylor. She wanted to know how she dressed, what she ate, what she drank, how she behaved, how she treated others, and how she expected to be treated.

The contradictions piled up. Taylor came from wealth and luxury, yet on the voyage to Boston, she certainly hadn’t behaved like a spoiled young lady in need of pampering.

“She pretty much does for herself,” Lucas confessed.

“Nothing about your bride adds up,” Belle announced. “Only one thing is certain in my mind, son. She had another reason for marrying you, one more important to her than her reputation.”

The greater good. Lucas remembered that after prodding her to tell him the real reason why she’d married him Taylor finally admitted protecting her inheritance from her uncle hadn’t been her only motive. She’d also married him for what she called the greater good. What in thunder was that supposed to mean?

Lucas decided it was high time he found out.

It was a fact he hadn’t cared enough before the wedding to look into Taylor’s background. Hell, he hadn’t even bothered to look at his bride beforehand. No, he hadn’t cared enough, and what she looked like hadn’t been the least bit important to him. The truth of the matter was that he’d been in too much of a panic at the time. Desperation. He’d been desperate all right. He would have done anything to get Kelsey away from Merritt. When he’d seen how sickly and mistreated the boy had been, Lucas had even considered killing the jackal. Then Taylor’s grandmother came up with a solution to his problem that wouldn’t get him thrown in prison. Lucas immediately took the money and accepted the debt. And now what?

Belle drew his attention when she reached across the table to shake her escort awake. The pair left a few minutes later. Lucas accompanied them to the lobby doors.

“If I weren’t leaving for St. Louis tomorrow, I’d insist on meeting your bride, Lucas. I’d get a few questions answered.”

Lucas smiled. He could just picture Belle trying to browbeat Taylor into telling her what she wanted to know. His mother’s friend was certainly older and more experienced, but Taylor was a bit more clever. She’d hold her own.

He kissed Belle good-bye, then went upstairs. He fully intended to get his questions answered, but he knew he’d have to wait until tomorrow. Taylor was sound asleep, or should be, and he wasn’t in the mood for a lengthy conversation tonight. Taylor needed her rest, and so did he. He felt weighed down, worn thin. The city had done that to him. He couldn’t be himself here. He had to be polite. He couldn’t wear his guns. He felt naked and vulnerable without them. The air wasn’t invigorating like the mountain air. Taylor and her friend marveled over how clean the air seemed. They didn’t know any better, and he supposed Boston wasn’t as stifling as London. It was still godawful to him. Every big city was. He felt as though the soot constantly spewing out of thousands of chimneys was coating his insides. Boston had become as crowded with people and crime as every other big city. Only those people who had never seen the mountains and the plains would be content to live in such a crowded area. They lived in ignorance. It was the only reason Lucas could come up with for why anyone would live in such a loud, hustle-bustle environment.

A man could only take so much, and Lucas had about had his fill. He needed to go home.

He tried to be as quiet as possible when he unlocked the door to their room and walked inside. He spotted Taylor immediately. She was sleeping on the lounge directly across from the door. The moonlight filtering in from the windows gave her hair and shoulders a golden glow. She looked like an angel to him. Her hair was spread out on the pillow and her hands were folded demurely at her waist. She was using her white robe for her blanket.

He stood there for a long while staring at her. He had to force himself to move. He turned and shut the door, locked it, and then crossed over to the alcove. He discarded his jacket on the way to the side of the bed, bent down, and pulled the covers back and then went to get Taylor. His intent was to trade places with her. She would sleep in the bed and he would take the lounge.

Although they’d slept next to each other before, he didn’t trust himself to share the bed with her tonight. He wanted her too much. From the moment he’d walked into the room, desire had taken hold. Lucas shook his head. He realized he wasn’t being honest with himself. He’d wanted Taylor from the moment he spotted her across the ballroom. The need had grown inside him with each step he took toward his bride. And when recognition finally dawned in her eyes and she gave him that wonderful wide-eyed, Oh-God-what-have-I-done look, he’d had the almost overwhelming urge to pick her up, toss her over his shoulder, and find the nearest bed. Yes, he’d wanted her from the very beginning, and heaven help him, it was becoming impossible to continue to behave like a gentleman.

He gave his word and he was going to keep it, even if it made a eunuch out of him. He’d promised Taylor’s grandmother he would protect his bride. Never was the word ravish mentioned in the conversation.

Taylor rolled onto her side. The movement pulled him back to the task at hand. He nudged the table out of his way so he could get to her, then knelt down on one knee and started to reach for her. He suddenly stopped when he noticed the paper she was clutching in her hands. He could make out only part of the heading, but it was enough. The paper was a telegraph form. His gaze turned to her face. He was close enough to see the tears on her eyelashes. Her cheeks were still wet. He was suddenly filled with dread. Whatever the message was, it had obviously devastated Taylor, for she’d cried herself to sleep.

Taylor had a death grip on the paper. He had to gently pry her fingers away so that he could read the message. He had already guessed the news, but he wanted to be certain.

The paper was also wet. God, she’d wept all over the form. Lucas slowly unfolded the telegram and read the missive.

Madam was dead.

Taylor’s heart had to be breaking. Lucas bowed his head and closed his eyes. He wasn’t a praying man, but he found himself reciting a prayer Belle had taught him years ago. He could only remember a few phrases, but he figured God would understand his petition anyway. He asked his Maker to give Madam peace and happiness. The prayer was an instinctive reaction, because he hadn’t been unaffected by the news. In truth, he was filled with sadness. He hadn’t known Lady Esther long, but she’d still made quite an impact upon him. She was such a strong, opinionated, passionate woman. She gave the word elegance definition. She was quite a tough old lady, all right, but what most affected Lucas was her determination and drive to do anything and eve

rything to keep her granddaughter safe.

Lucas opened his eyes and found Taylor staring at him. She didn’t say a word, and neither did he. He simply put the telegram down on the table, then reached for her. She didn’t resist. Lucas lifted her into his arms, stood up, and carried her to her bed. He settled her in the middle of the sheets, then stood by the side to undress. Taylor wasn’t watching him disrobe. She’d closed her eyes, rolled onto her side, away from him, and curled herself up into the blankets.

He wasn’t going to let her withdraw from him. She needed to let her pain out, to weep without holding back . . . to begin to mourn.

Lucas got into bed and took her into his arms. She fought him but only for a second or two, and then she put her arms around his waist, buried her face in the crook of his neck, and started shaking almost violently.

He comforted her the only way he knew how. He stroked her back with his hands while he whispered words he hoped would soothe her.

He held her close, and even after he was certain she’d fallen asleep, he continued to keep her in his embrace.

He never wanted to let go.

He woke up on top of her again. It was the dead of the night, almost four in the morning. Awareness slowly eased up on him. He was nuzzling the side of her neck and trying to wedge his knee between her thighs when he realized what he was doing. He had already worked her nightgown up around her hips. She wasn’t wearing anything underneath. She wasn’t fighting him either. Her legs were entwined with his, her arms were wrapped around his neck, and Lucas, still more asleep than awake, thought she must be having the same kind of erotic dream he was having because she was kissing his neck the very same way he was kissing hers.

He didn’t want to stop. His hand moved up, under her gown, stroking, caressing. He cupped the underside of one breast. His thumb brushed across her nipple. She let out a low moan against his ear and tightened her hold on him. He suddenly needed to taste her. He became rough in his quest. He grabbed hold of the back of her neck and forced her to turn toward him. His mouth sealed any protest she might have made. His tongue swept inside to find and mate with hers. He kissed her ravenously while his hands caressed her neck, then moved lower until each covered her breasts. The heat from her skin drove him wild. Her scent, like flowers, faint but irresistible, wooed him, drugged him, and all he could think about was getting a little closer to her clean, feminine fragrance. Her skin felt silky. He wanted to taste every inch of her. His hands moved lower. They spanned her waist, then moved lower still, until he was touching the very heat of her. Her back arched upward and she let out a low gasp.

Then she started trembling. He tore his mouth away from hers and started to unbutton his pants. He was hard, throbbing now with his need to plant himself solidly inside her.

His breath was ragged with his desire. He couldn’t quit kissing her while he was stripping out of his clothes, however, and it wasn’t until he tasted the salty tear on her cheek that reality finally set in.

What the hell was he doing? Lucas felt as though he’d just been drenched in iced water. He took several deep, shuddering breaths in an attempt to get his heart to slow down. His first logical thought wasn’t a pleasant one. He realized he was taking horrid advantage of Taylor. She couldn’t possibly be thinking straight. She’d only just gotten the news her grandmother had died. She needed comfort now, not debauchery.

He tried to get off of her. He pulled her nightgown down and forced himself to roll to his side. It took every ounce of strength he possessed, but he did accomplish the feat. The problem, however, was that Taylor came with him. She couldn’t let go of her hold either. Her opened mouth was on his throat, and she was moving erotically against him, urging him without words to come back to her.

He was having none of it. He pulled her arms away from his neck and tried to get her to move back to her side of the bed. She wouldn’t leave. She wrapped her arms around his waist and held on for dear life.

She needed him to love her. The second that realization popped into Taylor’s mind, she stiffened against Lucas. Oh, God, what was she doing?

She was suddenly overwhelmed with self-pity and desolation. Madam was gone. That fact was all Taylor could focus on. She couldn’t imagine life without her. How could she go on, all alone? Madam had become a safety net. If the problems of living in the wilderness became overwhelming, Taylor knew she would have written to her dear grandmother to seek her council . . . and her love. Madam would have told her what to do and even if Taylor hadn’t taken the advice, she would have felt that someone else cared. Madam had acted as Taylor’s mother in every sense of the word. There was still Uncle Andrew, of course, but he wasn’t at all like a father. He was her dear, eccentric, reclusive uncle, her playmate, actually, when she was a little girl and her dear friend now. Who else but Uncle Andrew would have insisted she live in a soddie for a month to find out if she had the gumption and fortitude it would take to live on the frontier if ever she had the chance. Yes, there was still Uncle Andrew she could write to, but it wasn’t at all the same.

She missed her mama. The pain was staggering. She thought she’d been prepared to lose Madam. Oh, God, it hurt, so much in fact that she’d deliberately set out to seduce her husband in an attempt to find comfort . . . and love, mock though it would have been, just to ease the horrendous ache in her heart.

“Don’t you want me, Lucas?”

He heard the catch in her voice. He couldn’t believe she needed to ask the question. He wasn’t very gentlemanly in giving his answer. He rolled onto his back, grabbed hold of her hand, and roughly placed it on his groin. Words weren’t necessary after that. Taylor’s reaction was just as he expected, too. She pulled her hand away as though she’d been burned.

She moved away from him and sat up. “Then why did you stop?”

He stacked his hands behind his head before answering. He counted to ten. He was fully occupied trying to keep himself from tearing his pants off and having his way with her.

“I didn’t want you to stop.”

He groaned. His jaw was clenched tight and his brow was covered with perspiration. In the darkness, Taylor could barely make out his expression. Tears were streaming down her cheeks. She wiped them away with the backs of her hands. She felt humiliated and miserable. She wanted to hide and weep and, oh, God, she wanted Madam back.

Taylor didn’t say another word. She scooted over to the very edge of the bed, trying to get as far away from him as possible, then pulled the covers up. She squeezed herself into a ball, closed her eyes, and fought to keep herself from openly sobbing.

Several minutes passed in silence. She thought he’d fallen asleep. She wanted to leave the bedroom and go back to the parlor. She’d sleep on the lounge again. She knew she was close to losing her composure, for she could feel it disintegrating even now, and she didn’t believe there could be anything more humiliating than breaking down in front of him. It had been many years since even Madam had seen her cry. She would have been appalled and ashamed of her granddaughter. Taylor didn’t think she could bear it if Mr. Ross witnessed her grief. He would surely find her lack of discipline and control disgusting. She felt ashamed just thinking about the possibility.

She had to get out of there. She tossed the covers back, sat up, and started to swing her legs over the side of the bed. He caught her before she stood up. Taylor didn’t even have time to struggle. Lucas moved with lightning speed. He pulled her across the bed, wrapped his arms around her waist, and flattened her against him. Her backside was snug against his groin. His chin rested on the top of her head. He wasn’t going to let her go anywhere.

“Taylor?”

She wouldn’t answer him. He wasn’t deterred. “You wanted me to make love to you for all the wrong reasons.”

She tried to move away. He tightened his hold. “You did want me, didn’t you?”

She wasn’t going to answer his question, but then he started squeezing her and she realized he wasn’t going to let up until she gave

him what he wanted.

“Yes, I did,” she whispered.

“You would have regretted it in the morning.”

She thought about his statement a long minute. Then she whispered, “Probably,” just to appease him. She didn’t believe it though. She wanted Lucas tonight with an intensity she’d never, ever experienced before. The way she was feeling terrified her. Taylor always wanted to be in control. She needed to be disciplined with her emotions and her reactions. Fear had done that to her. And Marian. Taylor had learned from her older sister. Marian hadn’t just protected her from Uncle Malcolm’s lust, she’d also taught her how to take every precaution imaginable, both mental and physical, to ensure that she would never become a victim to any man.

And then along came Lucas Ross. Taylor didn’t know how to protect herself from him. She’d done just fine for quite a number of years, even became engaged to William Merritt and planned a wedding, all the while never giving even a part of her heart away to her fiancé. Although she was devastated by his betrayal, the truth of the matter was that the scandal and the humiliation were more appalling to her than the loss of William. She really hadn’t been overly surprised, because Merritt had, after all, lived up to her expectations.

Lucas came from an altogether different kettle of fish. He wasn’t at all like the other men she’d known. He was kind and caring and considerate, and oh, God, she really wished he’d stop it. Without even trying, he was tearing away all her shields, and she knew if she wasn’t constantly on her guard, he’d sneak right in and steal her heart.

“Taylor?” His voice was a gruff whisper.

“Yes?” she whispered back.

“When I take you, you’re only going to be thinking about me.”

He rubbed his chin across the top of her head in a gentle caress. “You were thinking about your grandmother tonight. It’s all right,” he added. “You need to mourn.”

She shook her head. “Madam told me I couldn’t,” she explained. She turned in his arms and rested the side of her face on his chest. “She made me promise I wouldn’t wear black. I’m supposed to look to the future, not the past.”