by Anne Herries
He had let his damnable temper come between them once more. He could not expect Lottie to care for a man who overrode her every suggestion with what must seem like arrogance. Why hadn’t he explained that he had previously considered the repairs she had suggested but found them inadequate? The cottages were so damp and unsanitary that there was only one way to deal with them, like it or not.
‘Oh, damn,’ he muttered. If he didn’t get some sleep he would be like a bear in the morning. ‘It would serve me right if she changed her mind…’
Why had she not changed her mind?
The only thing Nicolas could think of was that she was prepared to accept him with all his faults for the sake of a comfortable home and a life of ease—except that Lottie had made it plain she had no intention of sitting around while others worked. Freddie had told him that she was already planning to discover more about local charities and had asked his advice about setting up a school for the children of his tenants.
A rueful smile touched his mouth. Nicolas was beginning to understand that he might have got more than he bargained for when he demanded that Lottie pay her father’s debts by marrying him.
‘You are so beautiful,’ Aunt Beth said, dabbing a lace kerchief to her eyes as Lottie twirled for her in her bedchamber. ‘That dress is gorgeous, Lottie—the nicest you have ever had, I think.’
‘That is all due to Lily,’ Lottie said and smiled at the seamstress, who had kept her word and arrived that morning to help with dressing her and to make any last-minute adjustments. ‘Thank you so much for my dress, Lily. My aunt is right. I’ve been thinking that you should have your own establishment in Northampton—or even London.’
‘I should never dare to set up in London,’ Lilly said, a flush of pleasure in her cheeks. ‘I have thought I should like a little shop in Northampton, but that is not likely. Especially now…’ Her eyes darkened with unspoken sadness.
‘Do not despair,’ Lottie said and pressed her hand. ‘If Sam keeps out of trouble, we may yet find a way to make things better for you both.’
‘I know you mean well, Miss Lottie—but you have a soft heart. The magistrates are gentlemen of property and to them Sam is a wicked rogue. If he’d ever had a chance, he could have been a good man, but you know what they say—give a dog a bad name and you may as well hang it.’
‘I promise I shall try to help him when the time comes, but if you see him tell him not to get involved in his cousin’s misdeeds.’
‘It weren’t him last night, miss.’ Lily said swiftly. ‘He knows you’ve been good to me. Sam might not like his lordship, but he wouldn’t lift a finger against you—or he would have me to answer to!’
‘And I believe you.’ Lottie laughed softly. ‘Well, Lily, do your best to keep him out of trouble and I may yet arrange something.’
Lottie turned to her aunt, who was regarding her with anxious eyes. ‘Do not look so worried, dearest. When all the guests have gone you and I will be alone here—and I dare say we can think of something. I kept Papa out of prison more than once. I dare say it may be possible to come up with an idea.’
‘Rothsay may have something to say.’
‘Well, he may not care to stay in the country for more than a few days or so,’ Lottie said. She ignored the look of enquiry in her aunt’s eyes. ‘We had better go down or we shall be late for the church.’
The sun was very warm as Lottie got down from her father’s carriage outside the church. She saw that several villagers were waiting outside to watch and wave as she entered the beautiful Norman church on her father’s arm. They smiled and clapped as they saw her, calling out good wishes for her wedding. Lottie’s hand trembled slightly on her father’s arm, but she controlled the wave of nerves that had swept over her.
She had slept the previous night after Rothsay left her, though her dreams had been troubled. There was a tradition that it was bad luck to see the bridegroom the night before the wedding. Lottie had not given it a thought until she was drifting into sleep. The omens were anything but propitious and the prophets of doom would say that she was bound to feel nothing but disappointment in such an ill-conceived match—if they knew the truth, which they did not, of course. Everyone thought they were the perfect pair, and Rothsay’s relations were thrilled with the prospect of an heir for the family.
Lottie’s stomach tightened with a spasm of nerves as she saw Rothsay waiting for her in front of the altar. How tall and strong he was, and as he turned to look at her walk down the aisle, she was aware of his masculinity as never before. Tonight he would claim the privilege of a bridegroom. The thought made her lips part on a sigh and desire pooled low in her abdomen. She longed for the moment when she became his wife in truth, yet she was afraid that she would give herself away in a moment of passion. Whatever she did, she must say nothing that made him feel she expected more than he was willing to give.
She turned her head to look at him as she drew to a halt by his side, and her heart missed a beat. He had such a sensual mouth and he was almost too good looking, though at times he could look harsh, that generous mouth tight with anger. She did not understand him, because they hardly knew one another. They had spent so little time alone that it was impossible to form a true picture of his character. He seemed harsh and arrogant at times, but was there another man beneath the mask he showed to the world—or was she deceiving herself?
Lottie forced herself to concentrate on the service. Rothsay was word perfect when giving his vows, but she stumbled over the word obey and his head turned sharply towards her, one brow arching in enquiry. Lottie trembled as the vicar pronounced them man and wife and then Rothsay lifted her pretty veil to kiss her lightly on the lips.
After that it all became somewhat blurred as they left church to the sound of bells ringing joyfully. As they paused on the church steps, Lottie saw several armed men at the edge of the crowd and knew that Rothsay had left nothing to chance. She thought it unlikely that anyone would try to assassinate him in front of the whole village and all his tenants, but, after the previous night, it was best to be prepared.
Nothing untoward happened and they ran for their carriage as a shower of rose petals and rice was thrown over them. Once inside, Rothsay looked at her, an odd smile on her lips.
‘So you did not run away despite my show of temper last night?’
Lottie smiled, because when he was the charming man of fashion she liked so well she felt at ease in his company.
‘Did you really imagine I would? I dare say I shall learn not to speak without thinking in time, Rothsay.’
‘Shall you? I wonder if I shall learn to control my damnable temper?’
‘I am not afraid of your temper, Rothsay.’
‘No, I have discovered that for myself.’ He looked at her quizzically. ‘Do you think you could call me Nicolas now we are married, at least when we are alone together?’ Alone together.
Lottie felt the nerves in her stomach tighten. In a few hours they would be completely alone. His attentions in the marriage bed would not be unwelcome. Her problem was that she might show her pleasure too much and send him hurrying back to London to the arms of his mistress.
Nicolas did not want a clinging wife.
‘I imagine I can do that quite easily, Nicolas,’ she said and smiled as he leaned towards her, his mouth seeking hers. Her lips parted as his tongue probed and she felt her resolve melting. How could she hold back when she felt this surging desire, the longing to feel his flesh close to hers?
What a wanton she was! Lottie ruefully accepted the truth. Had Nicolas asked her to be his mistress at the start she would probably have accepted—but of course he wasn’t interested so much in having her in his bed as the end result. She exercised control and sat back in her seat as he studied her face. Her instincts told her to throw her arms about him and kiss him back, but her mind told her to remember that she was to be no more than complaisant.
‘You really are very lovely, Lottie. I am fortunate to have such a bride
. My relatives are all enchanted with you—did you know that?’
‘Uncle Freddie is a dear and Sir James is a true gentleman.’
‘Even Cousin Raymond told me that I was a lucky dog,’ Nicolas said and grinned at her. ‘I suppose we must entertain them all this evening and slip away quietly in the morning.’
‘Slip away?’ she asked. ‘I am sorry, Nicolas. I am not quite certain what you mean. I thought you would stay here for a few days and then return to London. I have not prepared a trousseau for a wedding trip.’
‘I think you have enough for a short stay in the country, Lottie. I have a small hunting lodge in Hampshire. It has been made ready for us and will give us a little breathing space before we return to our own lives. My family would expect us to have a wedding trip and I did not wish to disappoint them. Henrietta thought Paris, but I believe we need to get to know one another in private—do you not agree?’
‘Yes, I do,’ Lottie said and smiled. ‘That is thoughtful of you, R—Nicolas, thank you. It is exactly what I should wish.’
‘It does not mean we shall never go to Paris—perhaps another time?’
‘Yes, perhaps,’ Lottie replied. ‘You must do exactly as you please, Nicolas.’
‘Must I?’ he asked and such a very odd expression came to his eyes. ‘Well, we shall see how we go on together, Lady Rothsay. I did not give much thought to the matter when choosing a bride, but I shall certainly pay more attention to my wife.’
Lottie’s eyes strayed to her husband again and again during the evening. They had entertained their guests lavishly to a grand reception. There had been music, dancing, cards for those who chose, and then fireworks in the grounds as the night descended and another light supper was served for any that wished for it. Cook and her helpers had worked extremely hard and Lottie sent a message of congratulations and thanks to the kitchens.
The hour was growing late when Nicolas suggested that perhaps she would like to slip away to her rooms. The guests who had travelled only a short distance were leaving and the family members who were staying on for a while were gathering in small groups, preparing to seek their beds.
‘I think everyone would excuse you if you went up now, Lottie,’ Nicolas said. ‘I shall join you in half an hour—if that is convenient?’
‘Yes, thank you, of course.’
Lottie’s stomach fluttered with nerves. He was so polite, almost a stranger again. Earlier in the day he had laughed and teased her as the toasts were made, but now he seemed to be brooding, keeping a distance between them.
Was he wondering if he could bear to do his duty? Lottie felt the pain slash though her at the thought. Perhaps he was thinking of his mistress and regretting that she would not be waiting for him that night?
She must not allow herself to think such lowering thoughts. Lottie banished her desire to weep as she undressed and then sent Rose to bed. Alone, she sat at her dressing table and brushed her hair, thoughtful and nervous, but not afraid. She wanted to be Nicolas’s wife—was excited by the prospect of being with him that night.
The time drifted by and she realised that he had been longer than he had promised. He must be gathering courage, perhaps having a drink to bolster his sense of purpose. She had noticed that he drank very little at the reception and during the evening.
As the door that led to the dressing room, which connected the master suite, opened slowly and Nicolas came through, Lottie rose to her feet. Her heart began to pound wildly, then she saw that though he had taken off his neckcloth and coat, he was still wearing his shirt, breeches and boots.
‘Nicolas?’ She was bewildered by his manner as he came to her. ‘Is something the matter?’
‘Nothing…’ His eyes were serious as he met her anxious gaze. ‘I came to say goodnight, Lottie. You are expecting to do your duty this evening, I believe, but I find I am reluctant to begin our marriage this way. We are almost strangers. I shall make no demands of you tonight. There will be time enough in the next week or so…when we are better acquainted.’ He leaned towards her, gave her a chaste kiss on the cheek, then turned and left.
Lottie stared at the door as it closed behind him. She could feel the tightness in her chest and tears burned behind her eyes. She longed to throw herself down and weep but was afraid he might hear. Not knowing what to expect, she had imagined many things of her wedding night. What she had not even considered was that he would leave her to sleep alone.
Why? Why had he not taken her to bed? If an heir were all he wanted…surely she was not so ill favoured that he could not bring himself to make love to her?
He had called her lovely in the carriage. She was sure that at various times she had seen the hot glow of desire in his eyes when he looked at her. So why had he held back?
Frustration was a part of her suffering—her body cried out for his and she had anticipated his loving with some pleasure. Yet perhaps all was not lost. Perhaps there was reason for hope if he wished them to be on a better footing before he exerted his rights as a husband.
Nicolas’s frustration was a hundred times stronger than Lottie’s had she but known it. The sight of his new wife in that fetching lace bedgown, the scent of her perfume and the look of invitation in her eyes had all been sorely tempting.
The devil of it was that he knew she was ready to accept him into her bed. She would not lie cold and unresponsive, for he had felt the softness of her lips in the carriage. He could go to her, make her his own and she would accept him, perhaps even welcome him—but for some reason it was not enough.
He could not convince himself that her compliance was more than that, a willingness to make her duties as pleasant as possible for them both. Lottie was a remarkable woman. He would swear there was passion in her—but he had found passion in the arms of a dozen women and somehow it was not what he wanted or needed now.
Ridiculous as it was, he wanted Lottie to love him. He wanted her to be his wife in the true sense of the word, not only the mother of his children but his partner in life—the other half of his self.
What kind of a fool was he? Nicolas laughed at the thoughts chasing round in his head. It was merely lust. He should go back into his wife’s room, make love to her and carry on as he had intended in the first place. A brief wedding trip, then bring her here, leave her with her aunt, and return to London to the life he enjoyed. Yet he was not a man to enjoy celibacy and he had vowed since becoming betrothed that he would stay faithful to his wife. It had been several weeks since he had bid his last mistress farewell.
Surely that was it. He had never been short of willing partners to share his bed. This self-imposed restraint was the cause of the burning need he was feeling. It wasn’t love for Lottie that was making him ache with the need to hold her in his arms and feel her sweet surrender. No, he wouldn’t be such a fool as to fall in love with his wife.
He would be bored with a clinging wife in a week. He enjoyed his freedom and the chase was all; it always had been so, for he seldom found much pleasure once the woman had given into his demands. No doubt it was a fault in him, but it was the main reason that he had not married—or so he told himself. At the moment, he fancied himself in love, but it would soon pass.
He would let Lottie sleep alone tonight and then perhaps things would happen naturally when they were alone at the lodge, apart from a few servants who would keep well in the background.
Once he had tasted her delights a few times, he would certainly wish to be free once more. It was just so damned inconvenient to feel this wretched frustration…
Chapter Nine
Lottie glanced at the man sitting beside her with his eyes closed. He had ridden his horse for the first part of the journey, leaving her to travel in solitary state, but for the past hour he had been in the coach with her, his long strong legs stretched out in front of him, his eyes closed. She wondered if he were bored with her company.
‘You do not need to go through with this if you would rather be in town,’ she said and saw his eye
s fly open. ‘If you are bored, Nicolas, it might be best if we returned to Rothsay and you left me there.’
‘Good grief, what makes you imagine I am bored?’ His eyes went over her. ‘If you must have it, I am a dashed bad traveller, which is why I rode for part of the way. Travelling in a carriage does not suit me—unless I drive the thing myself.’
‘Then why don’t you?’ Her eyes challenged him. ‘Are you not capable of driving a team of six horses?’
‘Damn it, Lottie,’ Nicolas’s eyes gleamed suddenly. ‘That is very provocative. You realise you have put me on my mettle, I suppose?’
‘Well, can you drive six horses? Papa tried once for a bet, but I fear he lost his blunt. He could not manage them and had to be rescued by the coachman.’
‘You are a wicked jade,’ he said and laughed. Reaching up, he tapped the roof of the carriage with his silver-topped cane and brought it to a halt. Opening the door, he jumped out and called to the coachman.
Lottie listened to the one-sided conversation. She judged the coachman to be uneasy in allowing his master to drive the team of six spirited horses, which was a very different matter to the pair that Nicolas regularly drove about the estate.
‘If you are sure, my lord…’ he said reluctantly. ‘They take some handling, sir—if you don’t mind my saying so.’
‘I do, damn it. Move over and leave them to me.’
Nicolas poked his head in at the door. ‘Hang on, Lottie, for there’s a good stretch of road ahead and I intend to let them go.’
‘Are you sure?’ She was doubtful now, half-wishing she had not challenged him.
‘You’ll see…’ Nicolas grinned at her.
Lottie sat back in her seat and heard him climb up to the driving box. After some argument, the groom went to the back of the carriage and the coachman stayed in place—just in case he was needed.