In truth, was there any other choice for her? In all likelihood, Hawke had already divorced her. Was it not better, then, to be the pirate’s wife instead of his whore? Had Liam not married her, had he set her free, no other man would have her, not after her sojourn upon his island, her father could not support her, and she would be homeless, a vagrant upon the streets.
And, truthfully, secretly, was it so bad to be his wife? When she yearned for him so? When she was, perhaps, on the brink of falling in love with him? Or even past it?
Tears blurred Katherine’s vision. She was exhausted, so very exhausted, and so unsure of everything. Of him, ofherself. She did not dare think about the past or the future, not now, not today. She hugged herself.
Katherine became aware of the utter silence filling the bedchamber. But she knew she was not alone. She looked behind her. Liam still stood in front of the door. His expression was very strained. He watched her intently.
Her pulse skipped wildly. She stared back.
His jaw clenched. He turned his face away, staring, apparently, at the floor. How beautiful his profile was. But should he not be elated? He had wanted this marriage; he had won. Why then did he appear so subdued? Why was he suddenly so restrained? Could he feel as uncertain, even as shy, as she did?
Katherine could not tear her eyes from him, wondering what he would say, what he might do, now that they were wed. Finally he lifted his head, his silver gaze searching. Then, uncharacteristically, he raked a hand through his hair. Katherine thought that it trembled ever so slightly.
She wet her lips. “Now what do we do?”
His gaze held hers. “What is it you wish to do, Katherine?”
“I do not know.” But she was assailed by her old dreams, and in them she was so gay, so innocent, and so happy—a laughing bride. She wanted to be that bride now.
“I do not want to fight you,” he said, his tone thick.
She jerked, her gaze flying to his. “Then perhaps you should change your forceful ways, Liam.”
“Perhaps.”
A silence thickened between them. Katherine became aware of the tension inside her own body, in her thighs and in her hips and in her mind. They were married now. It was their wedding night. He had every right to take her to his bed, when before he’d had none. Surely this night would end with seduction and lovemaking. Yet why did he stand there staring at her so gravely? What halted him from coming to her, as he had done so many times before?
He had folded his arms across his chest as well. “I wonder if a peace is possible, between us.”
Something soared inside her breast. “I…don’t know.”
His jaw flexed.
Katherine wet her lips. “We could…try.”
His eyes widened, his arms dropped to his sides.
She realized then how much she wanted a truce, how tired she was of constant warfare, and how eager she was for the sanctuary of his powerful embrace. How eager she was for his body, for both the comfort it would provide her, and the pleasure. She flushed. “We are married now. ’Tis insane…to war.”
He moved forward, his strides eating up the space between them, halting abruptly in front of her. But he did not touch her. “I think that I am insane, Kate, to have done all that I have done, to have risked so much—for you.”
A wild, heated, joyous emotion unfurled inside of her. Katherine tried to control it, to subdue it. “Perhaps this will work,” she said. “We can make it work.”
He inhaled, the sound loud and sharp.
Katherine felt tears rise swiftly and her vision blurred as she reached up and laid her hand against his cheek. Liam’s eyes closed. A moment later he turned his face, opened her palm, and pressed a lingering kiss there.
Katherine smiled and moved into his arms. This time, when their mouths mated, it was the prelude to far more than a carnal union.
Katherine awoke as covers were placed over her naked body. She heard strange sounds in the room, which became less strange, and then familiar—servants filling a tub with bathwater.
Her weary mind began to function. She was in bed, in their bedchamber—a chamber they had shared for many days now. She recalled all of it. Liam had refused to allow her to leave, and passion had bred more passion. The first time had been amazingly gentle, amazingly tender, the second time wildly savage. She could not remember the rest. His hands, his mouth, his huge heated entry, his whispered words, sometimes endearments, sometimes lewd provocations, ’twas all a blur. Except for one thing, one thing which stood out in her mind, remaining crystal clear.
Not once had Liam given her his seed.
Sudden despair washed over Katherine, chasing away her sated contentment. She had always wanted children. She still did. And she was his wife now. Why would he still be resolved to deny her his children? What dark demons drove him in such an unnatural manner? All men wanted children. All men wanted heirs: immortality. All men except, apparently, this one. The man who was now her husband.
And suddenly his words came back to her, so loud and so clear it was as if he spoke in the room now. “I am not so cruel, to bring my bastards into the world. I do not want children. I will not have children. I will not bequeath them this life.”
