Just Imagine aka Risen Glory

'If you expect more, you'll have to force me.'

'Will I?' He leaned lazily back in the chair and scrutinized her. 'Untie those laces. I want to watch you undress.'

She was shocked to feel a flush of excitement, and she struggled against it. 'I'm going to bed. Alone.'

Even as Cain watched her march to the door, he could see the fight she was waging with herself. Now that she'd tasted passion, she wanted him as badly as he wanted her, but she'd fight him before she'd admit it.

She was so damned beautiful it made him hurt just looking at her. Was this weakness what his father had felt with his mother?

The thought chilled him. He'd meant to push Kit tonight until he sparked the temper that was always her undoing. He should have known she was too worthy an opponent to play so easily into his hands.

But it had been more than a desire to make her lose her temper that had prompted his churlish behavior. He'd wanted to inflict the small, humiliating wounds that would tell her how little he cared about her. Once she understood that, it would have been safe for him to take her in his arms and love her the way he wanted to.

He still intended to make love to her. But not the way he wanted it to be, not with tenderness and care. He wasn't that foolish.

He rose and made his way through the sitting room to her bedroom. She'd locked the door against him, of course. He hadn't expected anything else. With a little patience on his part, he could melt her resistance, but he didn't feel patient, and the lock gave with a single kick.

She still wore her underclothes, although she'd loosened the ribbon on her chemise, and her hair hung loose, black silk trailing over ivory shoulders. Her nostrils flared. 'Go away! I'm not feeling well.'

'You'll feel better soon.' He swept her into his arms and carried her back to his bed, where she belonged.

'I won't do this!'

He dumped her on the bed. She landed in a pile of petticoats and fury. 'You'll do whatever I tell you.'

'I'll clean your boots, damn you, and I'll bring your dinner. But that's all.'

He spoke calmly against the raging of his blood. 'Who are you angriest at? Me for forcing the issue? Or you for wanting me to force it?'

'I'm not-I don't-'

'You do.'

He rid them both of their clothes, and her resistance melted with his first caresses. 'Why does it have to be like this?' she whispered.

He buried his face in her hair. 'Because we can't help it.'

It was a meeting of bodies, not of souls. They each found satisfaction, but that was all. Exactly the way he wanted it.

Except afterward, he'd never felt emptier.

He rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling. Scenes from his violent, unhappy childhood flashed before him. His father had lost more than his money to his wife. He'd lost his pride, his honor, and ultimately his manhood. And Cain was growing as obsessed with Kit as Nathaniel Cain had been with Rosemary.

The realization stunned him. His lust for this woman had blindsided him.

He drew a deep, agitated breath. Kit might desire him, but that desire wasn't as strong as her passion for Risen Glory. And beneath her desire, she hated him as much as ever.

Right then he knew what he had to do, and the knowledge was a knife in his gut. Desperately, he searched his mind for another way, but there wasn't any. He wouldn't let a woman steal his humanity, and that meant he couldn't touch her. Not tomorrow. Not next week. Not next month. Not until he'd broken the hold she had on him.

And that might take forever.

One week gave way to another, and they fell into a pattern of polite but distant coexistence, like two neighbors who nodded formally to each other over the fence but seldom stopped to chat. Cain hired extra men to work at the mill, and in little more than a month, the damage from the fire had been repaired. It was time to install the machinery.

As the days of summer ticked away, Kit's anger toward him yielded to confusion. He hadn't touched her since the Sunday night after he'd returned from Charleston. As long as she served him his meals when he came back from the mill, saw that his bath was ready, and superficially, at least, played the role of a dutiful wife, he treated her courteously. But he didn't take her into his bed.

She tramped through the woods in muddy boots and britches, the stock of his Spencer carbine tucked under one arm, a burlap bag holding quail or rabbits under the other. Although he wanted her waiting for him when he arrived home, he didn't care about proper female behavior the rest of the time. But even in the woods, she couldn't find contentment. She was too restless, too confused.

A letter arrived from Elsbeth:

My dearest, dearest Kit,

When I received your letter telling me of your marriage to Major Cain, I let out such a whoop, I quite terrified poor Mama, who feared I had injured myself.

You minx! To think how you used to complain about him! It is positively the most romantic histoire d'amour I have ever heard. And so perfect a solution to all of your troubles. Now you have both Risen Glory and a loving husband.

You must tell me if his proposal was as romantic as I have imagined it. In my mind I see you in your beautiful gown (the one you wore to our graduation ball) with Major Cain on his knee in front of you, his hands clasped imploringly to his breast just as we used to practice it. Oh, my dear Kit (my dear Mrs. Cain!), do tell me if my imagination has done justice to the event.

I hope you will be delighted with my own news, which I suspect will not come as a complete surprise. In October I shall be a bride just like you! I've told you in my letters that I've been spending much time with my brother's longtime friend, Edward Matthews. He is a little older than I and, until recently, thought of me as a child. I assure you, he no longer does!

Dearest Kit, I detest the distance between us. How I wish rue could talk together as we used to and exchange confidences about the two men we love, your Baron and my darling Edward. Now that you are a married woman, I could ask you the questions I cannot bring myself to ask my own dear mama.

Can Eve's Shame really be as horrible as Mrs. Templeton suggested? I am beginning to suspect that she must be wrong, for I cannot imagine anything between my darling Edward and myself that would be repulsive. Oh, dear, I shouldn't be writing of this, even to you, but it has been so much on my mind lately. I will close now before I am any more indiscreet. How I miss you!

Ta chere, chere amie,

Elsbeth

For a week, Elsbeth's letter stared accusingly at Kit from the top of her bureau. She sat down to answer it a dozen times, only to put away her pen. Finally she could postpone it no longer. The result was glaringly unsatisfactory, but it was the best she could do.

Dear Elsbeth,

How your letter made me smile. I'm so happy for you. Your Edward sounds perfect, just the husband for you. I know you will be the most beautiful bride in New York. If only I could see you.

I am amazed at how close your imagination hit upon the truth of Baron's marriage proposal. It was just as you imagined, down to the graduation gown.

Forgive me for such a short note, but I have a hundred things still to do this afternoon.

All my love,

Kit

P.S. Don't worry about Eire's Shame. Mrs. Temple ton lied.

It was the end of August before Kit could bring herself to visit the spinning mill, and then only because she knew Cain wouldn't be there. It was harvest time, and he was in the fields with Magnus from dawn until long after dark, leaving Jim Childs in charge at the mill.

Even though Kit hadn't been near the mill since the awful night she'd tried to burn it down, it was never far from her thoughts. The mill threatened her. She couldn't imagine Cain being content to keep it small, but any