apprehension returned. He was so powerful, and she was defenseless. He could tear her apart. Yet she lay here.
'Wait,' she whispered.
His head came up, his eyes darkly glazed.
'I shouldn't be… I need…'
'What's wrong?'
Her fear of him evaporated, but not her anxiety. So much was wrong, and right then, she knew she had to tell him. 'It wasn't true,' she managed. 'What I told you. I've-I've never been with a man.'
His brow clouded. 'I don't believe you. This is another one of your games.'
'No…'
'I want the truth.'
'I'm telling you the truth.'
'There's one way to find out for certain.'
She didn't understand, not even when she felt his hand between her thighs. She sucked in her breath as he pushed his finger inside her.
Cain felt her wince, heard her gasp of surprise, and something inside him twisted. The membrane was there, that tenacious survivor of her rough, unruly childhood. Taut as a drumhead, strong as she was strong, it protected her even as it damned him.
His vulnerability frightened him, and he hated that. He sprang to his feet and cried out, 'Isn't there anything about you that's what it should be?'
She stared up at him from her bed in the moss. Her legs were still parted. Long and slender, they held the secrets she'd shared with no man. Even as he grabbed his shirt and hat, he wanted her with a ferocity that made him shake, and pain he refused to acknowledge consumed him.
He stalked across the patch of grass to the place where his horse was tied. Before he mounted, he washed all feeling from his face and turned to inflict some of his own torment on her. But he couldn't think of words cruel enough.
'This isn't over between us yet.'
13
Brandon proposed to her at the Wednesday night church social. She accepted his offer of marriage, but, pleading a headache, declined his invitation for a walk around the church grounds. He pressed a kiss to her cheek, took her back to Miss Dolly, and told her he would be calling at Risen Glory later the next afternoon to secure Cain's permission.
Kit hadn't lied about having a headache. She was barely sleeping, and when she did sleep, she'd jolt awake to the memory of the strange, tortured expression she'd glimpsed on Cain's face when he'd discovered she still was a virgin.
Why had she allowed him to touch her like that? If it had been Brandon, she could have rationalized it. But Cain… Once again she was plagued with the notion that there was something very wrong with her.
The next afternoon, she rode Temptation hard and then changed into an old dress and took a long walk with Merlin. When she returned, she met Brandon coming down the front steps.
Ridges of disapproval engraved themselves between his eyes. 'I hope no one's seen you in that dress.'
She felt a spark of irritation, then put the blame on herself, where it belonged. She'd known he was coming this afternoon, but she hadn't thought to save time to change. She really was hopeless. 'I was walking in the woods. Have you spoken with Cain?'
'
Kit nodded and watched him walk away. Her stomach pitched with anxiety. She had to find something to do or she'd go crazy. She made her way to the kitchen, where she greeted Patsy, then began mixing ingredients for a batch of Miss Dolly's favorite beaten biscuits.
Sophronia came in while she was working and watched with a frown as she banged the wooden mallet at the dough. 'I'm glad I'm not those biscuits. For somebody who's supposed to be getting married soon, you don't look too happy about it.'
Somehow they all knew what was happening. Even Lucy had found an excuse to come into the kitchen right behind Sophronia, who took coffee beans from a burlap bag in the pantry and put them in the big wooden grinder.
'Of course I'm happy.' Kit took another whack at the dough. 'I'm nervous, that's all.'
'A bride's got a right to be nervous.' Patsy picked up her paring knife and began peeling peaches for a cobbler.
Lucy had stayed by the window, and she saw him first. 'Mr. Parsell's comin' back from the paddock.'
Kit snatched up a muslin towel and wiped her doughy hands, then ran out the back door and raced toward Brandon, but as she saw his expression, her smile faded. 'What's wrong?'
He didn't break his stride. 'Cain refused his permission.'
Kit felt as if the wind had been knocked out of her.
'He said he didn't think we'd suit each other. It's insufferable. A Parsell being dismissed like that by a Yankee ruffian.'
Kit grabbed his arm. 'We can't let him get away with this, Brandon. It's too important. I have to get Risen Glory back.'
'He's your guardian. I don't see what we can do. He controls your money.'
Kit barely noticed that neither of them spoke of love, only the plantation. She was too angered by his resignation. 'You may be ready to give up, but I'm not.'
'There's nothing more I can do. He's not going to change his mind. We'll just have to accept it.'
She wouldn't listen. Instead, she turned away from him and strode determinedly toward the paddock.
Brandon watched her for a moment, then headed for the front of the house and his horse. As he mounted, he wondered if it might not all be for the best. Despite Kit's captivating beauty and her fertile plantation, there was something about her that made him uneasy. Maybe it had to do with the voices of too many of his ancestors whispering to him.
Cain stood at the whitewashed fence, one foot propped on the bottom rail as he stared out at the grazing horses. He didn't bother to turn when Kit charged up behind him, although he would've needed to be deaf not to hear her angry footsteps.
'How could you do this? Why did you refuse Brandon?'
'I don't want you to marry him,' Cain replied, not looking at her.
'Is this your punishment for what happened yesterday at the pond?'
'This has nothing to do with yesterday,' he said so tonelessly she knew he was lying.
Her rage felt as if it were strangling her. 'Damn you, Baron Cain! You're not going to control my life any longer. You send word to Brandon that you've changed your mind, or I swear to God, I'll make you pay!'
She was so small and he so large that her threat should have been ludicrous. But she was deadly serious, and they both knew it.
'Maybe you already have.' He headed out across the paddock.
She stumbled toward the orchard, not seeing where she was going, knowing only that she had to be alone. That day at the pond… Why had she told him the truth?
Because if she hadn't, they wouldn't have stopped.
She wanted to believe she could make him change his mind, but she knew as surely as she drew breath that he wouldn't. Her childhood hatred of being born female returnee! in a rush. How she hated being at the mercy of men. Would she now have to drag Bertrand Mayhew here from New York?
The memory of his fussy ways and soft, pudgy body was repulsive to her. Maybe one of the men who had
