“I remember your first wedding so clearly,” he mused. She’d been vividly pretty and eager for life. “You were the loveliest bride imaginable. I’m sorry that your hopes and dreams on that occasion didn’t come true.”
She combed her fingers through her hair, loosening it to fall over her shoulders in a shining cascade. “I doubt that anyone’s bridal dreams come fully true, but being caught in the tides of war certainly fractures the maximum number of dreams.”
He hoped she’d say more, but she fell silent. He wondered about the years between her marriage and her escape from the Turkish harem. What had happened to her husband, the handsome, debonair Jean-Louis, Comte de Chambron? How had she been captured and sold into slavery? How had she survived so much disaster?
But if she didn’t want to speak of it, no matter. There was much of his own past he didn’t like to discuss. Safer to discuss domestic matters. “I suspect your new friends have been working to get you a whole new wardrobe suitable for a lady of means.”
Suzanne smiled. “I’ve already ordered several gowns from the modiste who made my wedding dress. She’s very talented and has good assistants so she can work very quickly. After they finished my grand green gown, they started work on a riding habit. She promised it for tomorrow since we were planning on going to your estate for a honeymoon.” There was a slight questioning note on the last sentence.
“And you want to be ready to ride,” he said with a chuckle. “I’m looking forward to visiting White Horse Manor. I haven’t been there in years. The estate belonged to my grandfather and we spent long visits there in the summer. The stables will contain several decent riding hacks, I’m sure.”
“All I need is a docile mount with good manners so I can relearn everything I’ve forgotten,” she assured him. “I don’t want to ruin my new riding habit by being thrown immediately!”
“It will all come back quickly. You were a natural rider. I was always impressed by the way you could charm a horse into doing your bidding. A horse witch.”
“I did then.” She shrugged and began to plait her hair into one long braid. She had the haunting beauty of a sorrowing Madonna. “Now, well, we’ll see.”
“You look a little sad, milady,” he said softly.
After a long silence, she said, “A little, perhaps. Life’s milestones call to mind other milestones, and the older we get, the more of them we’ve passed.” Her gaze touched his and held. “I’m happy to be married to you, though, so this is a good milestone.”
“It’s one of the best milestones ever,” he said honestly.
Smiling, she tied off her braid with a thin ribbon, then covered a yawn with one hand. “Weddings take energy to prepare and perform. I’m ready to sleep.”
“In the morning, we can fulfill one of my marital fantasies, sharing breakfast together.” He stood and offered his hand to help her from her chair. “I know you’ll look lovely across the table.”
“Don’t be too sure!” She didn’t need his help to stand, but he enjoyed the warm clasp of her fingers. She released his hand to smother another yawn, then moved through the door to her bedchamber. “Sleep well, milord.”
Since Simon wasn’t yet ready to retire, he poured Suzanne’s unfinished wine into his own glass, enjoying the intimacy of finishing his wife’s wine. Very domestic, and besides, the wine was too good to waste.
But as he sipped the claret, he felt a little melancholy. He’d emptied the glass before he realized why. Though he was delighted that Suzanne was now his wife, he realized he wanted more closeness. More touching. He would have liked to give her a long hug before she retired. He would like to feel her soft body pressed against him, relaxed and content.
But their relationship was too new and he didn’t know how much touching she would permit. She didn’t mind taking his arm or similar casual contacts, but he wasn’t sure she would accept more than that.
Intuition said that he must go slowly with Suzanne. He wasn’t sure a man could truly understand what she’d endured in the harem, but he couldn’t forget what she’d said when they’d first met: “My survival depended on being a whore and pretending to enjoy it.”
He had accepted her stipulations because he desperately wanted her companionship. Their marriage was based on an agreement that her body was her own.
And yet, he wanted more.
He heard her moving around her bedchamber as she prepared to retire. He imagined her removing her robe. It was still winter so she’d be wearing a warm nightgown underneath. There was a faint rattle as she put a scoop of coal on the fire. Then the light went out and there was silence. He pictured her sliding between the sheets and pulling the covers over herself.
He hoped she rested well and woke up without that sadness. She might be feeling some of the same kind of melancholy he felt. Marriage was the goal of courtship, but it was also the beginning of a journey together, one he hoped would last the rest of their lives. Perhaps tomorrow they could discuss touching and how much she was willing to accept.
He propped his feet on the footstool and let his thoughts wander over his childhood in this house. His loving parents, his beloved foster brother, Lucas, a world of possibilities, now gone.
Then he consciously released that past. He would never forget it, but now he was starting a new phase of life. It was time to look forward, not back.
As an adult, he’d discovered new possibilities he’d never imagined as a boy. He’d done good work in dark and dangerous places, and now he’d married a woman who had stirred his heart when he was a boy. Neither of them were what they once had been, but they’d both become wiser and stronger, and in time they would surely become closer. They’d been married only a few hours, after all.
Smiling at his absurdity, he decided it was time to retire. He was banking the fire when he heard raw, wrenching sounds coming from Suzanne’s room. He stood still, wondering if he was imagining them.
No, the sounds of anguish were unmistakable. He opened the door to her room, wondering if she was having a nightmare. “Suzanne?” he said softly.
She was turned away from him, trying to smother her sobs in her pillow. At the sound of his voice, she curled up more tightly, as if that would make her invisible.
“My darling girl!” He crossed the room and lay beside her on top of the covers. Though he didn’t know how much touch she was willing to accept, he could not turn away without trying to offer comfort.
Lying on his side, he wrapped his arm around her waist and drew her against his chest. She was warm and soft under the covers, and she didn’t try to twist away. He drew a deep breath and forced his voice to be steady. “If you are so disturbed by this marriage, we can—end it. Get an annulment since it hasn’t been consummated.”
He steeled himself for her to say she wanted that, but she shook her head and rolled onto her back so that she was looking up at him. In the dim light coming through the door from the sitting room, her face was blotchy with tears. He felt a rush of tenderness so powerful it hurt.
“No,” she said in a husky whisper. “I don’t want that. You may be the best thing that ever happened to me. But today made me think of my first wedding.”
Some of his pain eased, but he ached for her. “I suppose that was inevitable. You were so joyful that day. So beautiful and so in love with Jean-Louis. To see you was to believe in the power of love. I know that you can’t love me as you did him, but—”
“And thank God for that!” she said with bitter fury. “I loved him with the stupidity of the tragically young and naive. I was flattered that such a handsome man of the world had chosen me for his bride. He said that he loved me, and I believed him!” She drew a wrenching breath. “I hope to God that I’ll never be as stupid again!”
Jarred, Simon asked, “Did he mistreat you?”
She sighed, anger replaced by resignation. “Not by his standards. He needed a wife who was an heiress and attractive enough to be worthy of his wonderful self. He said he loved me because he knew I
expected it. He took pride in being an expert lover, so he made sure I enjoyed what he called bed sport.” She halted with a shuddering breath.
Sensing that she needed to reveal all her misery so that she could turn away from that past, he said encouragingly, “But?”
She swallowed hard. “At first passion was enough for me, but gradually I realized that any reasonably attractive young female in his bed would be equally acceptable. He never really saw me as an individual. He found his mistresses much more interesting.”
Simon could only imagine how painful that must have been for a devoted young wife who had believed herself loved. “Then he was a fool! And not a man of honor.”
“His honor didn’t include fidelity to his marriage vows. He told me that when I confronted him. But he wasn’t angry. He was patronizing. He patted my hand and said that soon I’d understand the way things were done in our world.” Anger and pain were raw in her voice. “After I gave him an heir, or better yet, two, I could do as I pleased.”
Simon swore under his breath. “He didn’t deserve you!”
“Perhaps not, but he was sure he deserved my dowry, which was quite substantial.” When her voice broke, Simon began stroking her back soothingly.
She resumed, voice shaking. “He was thinking of putting me aside when several years of marriage passed without a child. He considered me worthless.”
Simon swore again. “What a thrice-damned fool!”
“His first and only concern was for himself and his reputation, or he would have put me aside earlier.” She rested an arm over her eyes to conceal tears. “He was still pondering his dilemma when he decided life would be safer and warmer in Naples and he booked passage for us there.”
Guessing where this was going, Simon asked, “Did you reach Naples?”
“No,” she whispered. “Our ship was attacked by corsairs. Seeing the inevitable, Jean-Louis shouted at some of the French sailors that he’d reward them richly if they took him away in the ship’s boat. They were anxious to leave, too, so half a dozen sailors and Jean-Louis piled into the boat and they tried to escape.”
“Leaving you to the mercy of the pirates,” Simon said, his voice shaking with barely suppressed fury.
“Of course. I was of no great value to him, and this was easier than putting me aside.” Her mouth twisted. “I was lucky. The pirates merely took me prisoner. He was less lucky. The corsairs blew the small boat to pieces. There were no survivors.”
“My poor, dear girl,” he whispered, drawing her so close that her face was tucked in between his neck and shoulder.
Her voice muffled, she said wearily, “If you and I were in such circumstances, you would have died trying to protect me.” It was a statement, not a question.
“Yes.” He took a deep breath, not wanting her to be intimidated by his anger at a man now dead. “But I’ll do my best to see that we never face such danger.”
Her arm came around his waist and she began to relax into him. “I’ve never told anyone about Jean-Louis because it was hurtful. With you, I can bear to speak.”
He was awed that she trusted him enough to reveal the anguish of her first marriage. Surely this was a good omen for their future.
She was all warmth and sweetness as she drifted into sleep, her head on his shoulder, her breathing soft and steady against his throat. He’d wanted more closeness and now they had that. He wanted to give her so much happiness and safety that she would never have to weep again.
He wanted . . . he wanted . . .
With a shock that struck to his heart, he recognized that the warmth curling through him was as much physical as emotional. He wanted her in every way a man could want a woman. Long-vanished desire was blossoming into life and he wanted so much more than the companionship they’d agreed to.
What the devil was he to do now?
Chapter 9
Lying still so as not to disturb Suzanne, Simon tried to come to terms with the fact that his long years of passionless celibacy had ended, a discovery equally exhilarating and alarming. Mostly exhilarating, but it complicated his marriage enormously. Though he had changed, Suzanne hadn’t, and he had pledged to do nothing to distress her.
If she felt different about passion someday, he’d celebrate, but for now and the indefinite future, his job was to protect and cherish her. And teach her how to shoot firearms and defend herself.
Eventually he fell asleep and awoke at first light to find that Suzanne still lay sleeping with her head on his shoulder and her arm around his waist. Her face was peaceful and very young. Carefully he flexed his right arm, which had gone to sleep along with Suzanne.
The motion caused her to stir and open her eyes. She was deliciously tousled, her green eyes making him think of mint leaves. “So I didn’t dream last night,” she said with a sleepy smile. “You make a marvelous pillow. I can’t remember when I’ve slept so well. What about you?”
“It took me some time to fall asleep,” he said honestly, “but when I did, I slept dreamlessly and well.”
She rolled onto her back and stretched and he tried not to stare at the way her breasts lifted under the soft fabric of her nightgown. “Perhaps we should continue to sleep together?” Her gaze shifted shyly away from him. “I’ve . . . never slept all night with a man. I liked having you there.”
“Never?” he asked, startled. “Jean-Louis was even more of a fool than I realized.”
Her mouth twisted. “So I’m not unnatural for wanting to have you beside me all night?”
“Definitely not,” he said firmly. “Particularly not in February!”
She smiled a little at that. “Then join me under the covers for a bit. You must have become cold sleeping on top of them.”
“The room did cool down overnight. Give me a moment to build up the fire and I’ll join you.”
He swung from the bed, knowing he was mad to agree to sleeping together, and also knowing that he couldn’t possibly say no. Not when he wanted it so much. This would be a major test of willpower. He’d always thought his was good, but that was before he’d married an enchanting lady.
He added more coal to the fire, then returned to the bed and slid under the covers with her. “It’s still early, so lazing here is a good way to spend the time before breakfast.”
He was definitely warmer under the covers than on top of them, particularly after Suzanne rolled over and snuggled against him, one hand resting on his chest. She had a faint scent of rosemary, tangy and appealing. He brushed a light kiss on her silky dark hair, thinking he’d never been more content in his life.
This was a good time to raise the topic he’d thought of the night before. “I’ve wondered how you feel about being touched, ma chérie. You have reason to be wary of men. I like touching you, but I don’t want to upset you. Tell me what you don’t like so I can avoid doing it.”
Her brow furrowed. “I’ve not defined this,” she said slowly, “but it comes down to whether a man is touching me with carnal intent. Some men feel they have the right to grope any female they wish. The French émigrés who tried to corner me were like that. Horrible! If I’d had a knife and knew how to use it, I’d have unmanned them!”
“Bloodthirsty but understandable!” he said. “But not all men are like that.”
“Luckily not. You aren’t. Your rogues of the cellar all seem to be the sort to keep their hands to themselves. Having sailed the length of the Mediterranean with Gabriel Hawkins, I know that he treats women with respect.” Suzanne smiled. “He’s also mad for Rory and has no carnal interest in any other woman. That makes him safe.”
“You can sense carnal intent?” Simon asked, curious.
“Usually. The damnable part is that I like touching. In the harem, I loved having children to cuddle.” She sighed. “I’d assumed I’d have children someday, but it’s never happened and now it never will.”
“Dreams lost,” he said softly. “Though sometimes dreams can be reborn. You thought yourself unsuitable for marria
ge, yet here we are.”
She chuckled. “So we are. But that’s because you understood and felt much the same way as I.”
“In other words, I’m safe,” he said with a touch of dryness.
“Exactly, and I loved sleeping in your arms.”
He wondered if she would sense the change in him, because his thoughts were definitely carnal. And if she did sense that, what would she do about it?
But for the moment, they were well pleased with each other. He ran a slow, appreciative hand down the lovely curves of her back. “Tomorrow I’d like to get an early start to visit White Horse Manor, but today we can sort out some of the details of life.”
“Like my riding habit, boots, and I hope some other clothing as well.” Her eyes gleamed. “But the riding habit and boots in particular.”
“Before we leave town, I need to call on Lucas’s great-uncle and aunt. Lord and Lady Foxton had no children of their own, so they were fond of us young hellions. They were Lucas’s godparents, and since he and I were always together, they treated us like brothers.” Simon suppressed a swift memory of two boys being welcomed with open arms at Foxton House. “I know they’d like to meet you.”
“I’d love to meet them since they are like family to you,” she said promptly. “But as godparents, why didn’t they take in Lucas when he was orphaned?”
“They were in India at the time. By the time they returned to England, Lucas was settled in with my family and they didn’t want to disrupt him again. There were many visits, though.”
Suzanne’s brow furrowed. “Was Lucas in line to inherit the Foxton title?”
“If he’s alive, he would be Lord Foxton. His great-uncle was his grandfather’s younger brother. But Lucas had been missing for years and eventually he was declared dead, so his great uncle assumed the title. He would be happy to relinquish it if Lucas turns out to be alive.”
Once a Spy Page 7