Rogue's Lady

by Robyn Carr

  Vieve was serious, but not in the least grim. Her thoughts had raced well ahead of the afternoon to the future. Tyson had been wise to leave her alone in her father’s house for a month. It had taken every moment of that time for her to steady herself for the wedding. She meant to show him, rather than tell him, that she could do him honor as his wife. Her temper was in check and her manners were impeccable. He might be suspicious, angry, short-tempered, and intractable. But he would be hers.

  Vieve was fortunate, because in addition to her tenacity and spirit she was also intelligent. She reasoned that a man of Tyson’s age, temperament, and experience would have little patience with an adolescent bride. She conceded that such a pose might have made him wary of a life with her.

  The wedding took place in the parlor, for only the immediate family and a few special servants attended them. When Lord Ridgley arrived to take her down the stairs, she took a deep breath and reminded herself of her decision to soften Tyson’s suspicion with understanding, his temper with docile obedience, his irascible nature with sweet compliance. And soon she hoped to answer his kisses with her own. No matter how long it took, she was determined that one day he would love her as deeply as she loved him.

  Her voice was firm as she spoke the vows, and his wedding kiss gave her cause to tremble. During the celebration that followed, wineglasses were kept filled, and the dinner was a delectable repast of roast beef with many side dishes of sweet cakes and pastries. When she could not imbibe another drop of champagne, she let Evelyn urge her away from the table. She paused to briefly kiss Tyson’s cheek, hoping that he would perceive this as a gesture of affection and decide, as she had, that they should move ahead in this marriage with some tender feelings for each other. By his frown, she worried that it was going to take a great deal more than a little kiss to soften him into marriage.

  Again, she approved her reflection as she posed before the mirror in her bedding gown. The sheer cloth was identical in color to that of her wedding dress and left little to the imagination. When Evelyn unbound her hair and brushed it to a high golden sheen, she stood back to survey her work. “You are even more beautiful now,” she sighed. “Are you frightened?”

  “No,” Vieve said honestly. She had already had the briefest glimmer of the pleasure that could be found in the arms of a lover. In the month that Tyson had been away, he had grown even more desirable in her imagination. While wary of his moods, she was not frightened of his lovemaking. She had considered such intimacy to be one of the benefits of being his wife.

  “You will be happy,” Evelyn said confidently. “I’ll leave you so that he can come.”

  Vieve bit her lip in sudden apprehension, but smiled for Evelyn. The quilt was drawn back and folded at the foot of the large four-poster, the pillows fluffed at the head of the bed, but Vieve had chosen the stool before her dressing table to wait. When Tyson entered, she rose, and her legs trembled beneath her.

  He leisurely viewed her. The nightgown was so transparent that it did no service in concealing her nakedness. He wore an odd look on his face, and his eyes warmed her from her toes to her brow. She was amazed at how the flush crept over her cheeks. She thought she was ready for this.

  He smiled as he looked at her. “You are lovely,” he said softly. She lowered her gaze, pleased by his appraisal. “We have not shared a private word since I left you. Have you anything to tell me?”

  She tilted her head slightly as she looked at him. He began to shrug out of his jacket, tossing it aside to a nearby chair. She said nothing. There were many phrases burning in her mind, but she was afraid to voice any of them. He chuckled at her silence. “Are you with child, my dear?”

  “No,” she said softly. “Have you been concerned?”

  He laughed and began untying his stock as he approached her. He loosened his shirt, and her eyes were drawn to the thick mat of black hair on his chest. “Once I realized my mistake, I denied myself no share of pleasure. I gave you my best.”

  She felt her cheeks burn with embarrassment. In the face of his candor and experience she felt at a terrible disadvantage. Intimacies shared were enough of a new experience; actually talking about them was too disconcerting.

  “I was right. You did not realize it. There are certain techniques I could have employed to forestall pregnancy. I could have withdrawn upon noticing you were intact... but I did not.”

  Although her face felt on fire, she tried to respond in a way that would give him some reassurance. “I doubt that once is a good test, Tyson. Surely there will be children.”

  He came to stand close to her. His hand rose as he held her gaze with his. He gently teased her erect nipple with his thumb. “Not too soon, I hope. I have no intention of being the father.”

  Her eyes widened in surprise. For a moment she thought she had misunderstood. “Is...is there something wrong?”

  “Oh-ho,” he laughed, not ceasing his casual caress. “I think I have committed enough of myself to this family. Has your father told you the sum? ‘Twas fifty thousand, at our last accounting. You have a married name; I made right my act. You will no longer face shame for your sins, and mine have had a weighty cost. Tell me,” he said softly, as he continued to stroke her breast. “Did Andrew do this for you?”

  Her eyes flared suddenly and she brushed away his hand. She tried to push him away, but he pulled her back, and his commanding tone hushed those curses she would have hurled at him. “Be still,” he said. “I do not intend to deny myself all the pleasures I bought.”

  His touch no longer titillated her desire. She could not have seen how deep his anger had penetrated. She had meant to be a willing bride, but not his willing victim. He held her close against him, and as she looked into his eyes, she saw that he was very pleased with himself. “And what is it you think you bought, Captain?” she taunted.

  “A wife,” he said with a shrug. “So you will play the wife. But you must go without your pleasures, for though I have no intention of bedding you again, I will not condone adultery in you.”

  She pulled out of his embrace and retreated. “You are an arrogant fool,” she said angrily. “Whatever do you hope to gain with this idiocy?”

  “I save my neck and watch my money,” he said with a sly smile. His eyes roved over her again. “And I shall enjoy some of the benefits. You have a most alluring body, my sweet.”

  “Why the devil did you bother to marry me?”

  “It was required. I took the prize without payment, but now I have cleared the debt. I refuse to incur any more debt to my name. Tell me, my pet, does marriage still hold the promise you expected?”

  “You have some notion to make me pay for your mistake.”

  “You craved passion,” he told her easily. “But more than that, money. Well, your family has my money, but I’m afraid the rapture you hunger for will have to wait. I know that you are hurt and wanting, my little temptress, but I am determined that you shall be denied.”

  As he spoke, her eyes glittered with white-hot rage. Her hand found a porcelain figure on her dressing table, and she hefted it as though it were a rock. “You think to make me suffer?” she asked loudly. “You know more of this promised passion than I. I have felt no such thing from any man—least of all you.”

  He threw back his head as if genuinely amused by her denial. “That’s hard to imagine, petite, since you appear so willing.”

  With an insulted cry she fired the porcelain decoration with clear intent to split his skull, but he ducked the piece easily and it crashed against the door.

  “You despicable coward,” she cried. “You were afraid to test my father’s force and now you turn on me. How long before you flee?”

  “My investment is large,” he said good-naturedly. “I’m certain we shall enjoy many more of these tender moments together.”

  Her hand found another figure, and with a shriek of outrage, she fired at him again. Again he ducked, his laughter loud.

  “My father will...”

 
“Will find you a most fetching sight, but I fear he will weary of your complaints.” She stopped her tirade instantly. “Come, my love, you can find more here to throw, and hearty screams to bring everyone running. Then you may stand in all your naked glory to tell our wedding guests how I punish you by refusing the conjugal bed. I, for one, will watch the scene with amusement.”

  The shock settled over her as she realized how foolish he meant to make her appear. She whirled around, presenting her back. Her breath came in short, furious huffs, but her throat ached with unshed tears.

  “Your father could see me imprisoned or worse for stealing your virtue, but I doubt he can punish me for my poor performance as your stud.”

  The tears spilled over her lids and ran down her cheeks. She shook her head in wonder. Would she suffer through years of such cruelty?

  “I know you had your heart set on passion, cherie, but I shall have to disappoint you. Andrew Shelby may have warmed you, but there is no one here to fan the flame.”

  She stood silent, refusing to add any words as fuel to his hostility. She felt his hands on her upper arms. “What is it, love? Do you feel humiliation?”

  She nodded weakly, a sob escaping her. “If that was your intention, Tyson, you have success.”

  He slowly turned her back to face him. He gently brushed a tear from her cheek, and the look in his eyes was no longer amused. She could read the inner conflict in his eyes. “Do you think your humiliation is nearly equal to mine?” And in a very soft voice, he added, “Do you think you can match me in feelings of embarrassment, fear, and loss? Perhaps you can lend yourself trustingly to marriage, since your father sits below in wait for any cry from your lips...but I? You must consider what has been done to me, love.”

  “And so you think the only solution is this retaliation?” She raised her chin as proudly as possible when she stood naked, physically and emotionally. “You were wronged, but you add to your mistakes, Tyson. Even now, after you have felt the proof of my virginity, you speak to me as if I am a common whore. And I, your wife.” She shook her head sadly. “It is too bad for you.”

  He lost the anger in his eyes. “Perhaps you will thank me one day, Vieve. My performance with a woman is so much better when there is no noose around my neck.”

  “You act as if you expect me to argue, m’lord,” she said softly. “I assure you, my designs on you are not so well thought out as you accuse. I meant only to be willing and pleasing, but if you prefer your celibate ways, I think you hurt yourself more than me.”

  He frowned slightly as he looked at her. He gently caressed her neck with his hand. “Go to bed, Vieve,” he whispered. “I will join you after I have a drink.”

  She sought the bed willingly, pulling the quilt over her and turning her back on her husband. He dimmed the room by extinguishing a few candles and helped himself to the liquor kept there for his convenience. Although she lay still and pretended to be sleeping, she was fully aware of the great length of time and the number of drinks he required before he took his place beside her in bed . . . still wearing his trousers.

  When the bride and groom had retired, Lord Ridgley moved the wedding guests into the drawing room to continue the party, though on a quieter scale. He served his favorite Madeira to Paul, Evelyn, and Doré. Bevis McCauley had to be encouraged to stay on, for it was the servant’s desire to disappear when his master had. But the baron found the manservant amusing, chafing as he did under the weight of formal clothing. And Harriet smothered a yawn, for which the baron teased, “Good Lord, Mrs. Harriet, it’s early yet and you’ve barely gotten a good day’s wear out of your best dress. Have a cup of tea at least.”

  All had been served their requested libations when the sound of a crash was heard from the bridal chamber above them. Bevis slid down into his chair weakly. Harriet’s eyes gleamed with the feral intent of a lioness whose cub was threatened, and Paul shot to his feet. Evelyn looked a bit frightened. But Doré smiled knowingly, and it was to Doré that the baron addressed himself.

  “You have known the captain for a long while, monsieur. Can you tell my son why he should sit down and relax rather than rush to his sister’s aid?”

  Doré gave a nod. “You may rest assured that the captain has a high regard for the property of others and will not damage any of the baron’s household goods.”

  “But...”

  “I see no need for concern,” Lord Ridgley said. He motioned to Paul. “Sit down.” He turned again to Doré. “Do you have an interest in trade as well? Perhaps before you leave, the captain and I can...”

  The baron was cut off by a shriek and another crash. Again Paul was on his feet, almost indignant now. “Father, I demand that—”

  “Sit down, dammit,” Lord Ridgley snapped. “Have you seen the size of the man who married my daughter? Surely he has not been reduced to throwing glass objects around the room in a fit of temper. After all these years you ought to know the sounds of Vieve’s outrage.”

  “But what if he is hurting her?”

  “He would not dare,” Boris told him with assurance.

  “Well. .. then...if Vieve is having some tantrum—”

  “She has a husband now,” Lord Ridgley said with finality. “It is their wedding night. Not everyone is as mild-mannered as you... and least of all, those two upstairs. Now, if the lot of you cannot turn a deaf ear to those sounds, go out for a walk. But no one puts a foot toward the stair.”

  Paul sat down, although his expression and others around the room were unchanged. Boris considered them only briefly. Harriet, for her many complaints about Vieve, was hell-bent to tear asunder anyone who would lay one finger to the lass’s head. Bevis McCauley, although clearly loyal to Tyson from his toes to the top of his shining pate, shrunk into a small figure in his chair, concerned about his master’s wisdom in allowing this tirade to proceed in the baron’s own house. Paul, who was gentle by nature, could not take the wild sounds, and since Evelyn had never doubted Vieve’s spirited nature, her eyes widened with her imagination. But Monsieur Gastión smiled as if he knew what Lord Ridgley knew.

  “So, monsieur, before you make a hasty departure, perhaps we can discuss the warehouses and the ships...and entice you into some deal.”

  “Something tells me, my lord, that you are more clever at making these deals than either Tyson or myself.”

  Lord Ridgley threw back his head and laughed. “Perhaps I am, at that.”

  Chapter Nine

  Tyson rose early and, after a last look at his wife’s sleeping form, went down to the dining room. Although the night had been far from restful, he at least felt he was in control again. He frowned at the thought. Such control; an ache in his loins, sultry dreams, and the torment of lying discontented at her side.

  But he was decided. It was essential to protect himself from any further designs this family had on using him. With a little luck he could recoup his investment, and, if necessary, even forfeit the money and leave England hastily. He had retreated with due speed on other occasions; he knew the path of escape quite well.

  Of course she would come with him, he secretly mused. And in his own time, in his own home, he would make love to her again, but the next time would be right. It would not happen on the ground of an abandoned building, and there would be no mistaking the reasons. He would not be moved by a jealous fit, and he would be assured that her motives had nothing to do with her father’s need for money.

  He sat at the dining room table and after an astonished look from a breakfast maid, managed to get a cup of coffee. The servants were surprised to see the groom about so early. Disappointed, perhaps...but no one moreso than himself. He resented the fact that his past made him wary of the devices of women, so that he felt it necessary to deny himself one of the greatest pleasures he craved from marriage. I have earned my suspicions at a high price, he told himself once more. And his wife’s reaction to his cruel taunting had him nearly convinced that she was innocent of schemes, even if her father was not.
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br />   “You are about early on the morning after your wedding,” Lord Ridgley said when he entered.

  Tyson gave a curt nod. “Your daughter fared the night well and is still abed.”

  Soon Doré pushed open the dining room door and looked at the two. “So many of these foreign customs confuse me,” he said with a chuckle. “In France, we do not expect to see the bride or groom for days following the ceremony.” He checked eyes with the baron. “But the two of you are both men bent on hard work; I should have expected that you would give no time for pleasure...even on the day after a most beautiful wedding.”

  Tyson glowered at his friend, but Doré seemed not to notice. Instead he looked at the baron. “You seem a possessive father, my lord. Will you press the company of your daughter and her husband for a generous length of time?”

  Boris cleared his throat. “I thought to entice even you to stay, monsieur.”

  “Ah, you are kind. But there is business in the city that I wish to engage...unless you are hiding some beautiful woman in this hall who has not yet been introduced.”

  “There is a woman in London who interests you?” Lord Ridgley asked forthrightly.

  “Indeed, there is,” Doré confirmed. “Tyson, would you lend your coach for my return to the city? I will send your man back to you with due haste.”

  Tyson peered at his friend. “Immediately?”

  “I think it is best not to wait. I can be of more use in London, and you do not need me here. My lord,” he said, turning again to the baron. “I do not refuse your offer of business, but perhaps I can postpone my involvement for the time being. I trust we will have another chance to speak of terms.”

  Boris nodded and rang his bell to hurry the service of breakfast. “I will extend my hospitality to my son-in-law for a while longer,” Lord Ridgley said. “If that meets with no objection.”