The Prince's Bride

by Victoria Alexander

  And it was all too horribly real. It wasn’t a dream even if it could be likened to a nightmare. She groaned to herself. She was Lady Beaumont. Viscountess Beaumont. And the man lying beside her was—she swallowed hard—her husband.

  He hadn’t kissed her again, had he? Or done anything else? A barrier of sheets and blankets separated Beaumont’s sleeping form from hers. That was a good sign. Cautiously she lifted up her coverlet and winced. She didn’t remember taking off her clothes but apparently somebody had. She pushed aside the thought of who that somebody might be. At least she still wore her chemise and stockings. Beaumont’s shoulders were bare and he no doubt wore nothing else but the blankets. He struck her as the kind of man who would sleep unclothed.

  She couldn’t help but notice that Becky was right. His shoulders were extraordinary. Was the rest of him as nicely put together? He was certainly one of the handsomest men she’d ever met. Had circumstances been different she might well have been interested in him. Of course it scarcely mattered now. Now she was his wife.

  She propped her hand under her head and studied him. If it hadn’t have been for Alexei, who did in fact embody her childhood fantasy, she might have been extremely interested in Beaumont. Even if he was only a mere viscount. And apparently not a terribly wealthy viscount at that. Still, the man had an air about him, mysterious and attractive, and was really quite appealing. At least when he was asleep. And he had brought her to a castle. She’d always wanted to live in a castle.

  Beaumont’s eyes flickered open and she stared straight into their dark, endless depths. Her stomach fluttered and she realized how close she was to him. How easy it would be to lean forward. To brush her lips...

  “Good morning.”

  She said the first thing that popped into her head. “Is this your castle?”

  “My, you are mercenary.” A wry smile lifted his lips.

  She shrugged but had the good grace to blush. “I’m not mercenary, just curious.”

  “Well, in that case.” He propped himself up on his elbow. “It will be someday but at the moment, no. The castle is owned by my uncle.”

  “And he is?”

  “Uncle Nigel. Lord Worthington.” His smile grew. “The Earl of Worthington.”

  “Oh.” She thought for a moment. An earl wasn’t bad at all. And an earl’s wife was a countess. “Then you will someday be—”

  “Viscount Beaumont, nothing more.” He laughed at the disappointment she tried, and failed, to hide. “I am sorry, my dear, but my uncle is my grandmother’s stepson and in truth no blood relation to me at all. Our ties are no more than those of affection and his title will die with him, though, God willing, not for a very long time. However, Worthington Castle is not entailed and therefore will come to me one day.”

  “I see.” That was something at any rate. “You can’t fault me for asking.”

  “I can, but I won’t.” He studied her with an air of amusement. “Do you have any other questions?”

  “Why are you in my bed?” she blurted.

  “Actually you are in my bed.”

  “I was here first.” She pulled her brows together. She couldn’t really remember how she’d gotten here at all but she was fairly certain she was first. “Wasn’t I?”

  “This is not a territory to be claimed by the first to plant a flag. Regardless of who was in this bed first, this is where I have always slept, and quite well I might add, and I have no intention of sleeping elsewhere.” He met her gaze firmly. “Not now, not ever.”

  She gathered the blanket more closely around her. “What exactly do you mean by that?”

  “I mean, my dear lady wife, this is my bed and this is where I shall sleep.”

  “Then I shall sleep elsewhere as I have no intention of sharing your bed.” She raised her chin defiantly. “Not now, not ever. Surely there is another bedchamber I can occupy?”

  “A dozen or so but you’re not going anywhere.” One naked shoulder lifted in a casual shrug. “You are my wife and you shall share my rooms.”

  “How barbaric of you.” She sat up and glared down at him. “Civilized couples do not share bedchambers.”

  “Beaumonts have never been especially civilized.” He flashed her a wicked grin. “We quite prefer it that way.”

  “Then I shall sleep on the floor,” she said loftily.

  “As you wish, but I warn you, the floors are made of stone and even at this time of year are extremely cold and damned uncomfortable.”

  She heaved an exasperated sigh. “You are determined to make this difficult, aren’t you?”

  “Not at all.” The smile remained on his face but his eyes were serious. “I am determined to make this work.”

  “You are? Why?”

  It was his turn to sigh. “Because, my dear Jocelyn, I checked into the possibilities of annulment or divorce the morning of our wedding, and either takes years to accomplish. Therefore, we are essentially stuck with each other for a very long time.”

  It was interesting, though unsurprising, to note he had taken the time to uncover the details of dissolving their marriage. Marianne had also managed to come up with the same information before the wedding. Jocelyn knew full well this marriage was likely to be permanent or, at least, last untold years. Even not consummating their union would not guarantee its dissolution unless, of course, he was unable to do so. Jocelyn didn’t doubt for a moment that Beaumont was very, very able. Still, consummation did not seem like a wise move if she had any hope of escaping this marriage someday. And Marianne had promised to do whatever she could at some indeterminate time in the future.

  “But surely, Beaumont—”

  “My given name is Randall although I have never been particularly fond of it. Therefore my close friends call me Rand. As should my wife,” he said pointedly.

  “Now then, if there is nothing else.” He sat up and swung his legs, his bare legs, over the side of the bed.

  “Wait!”

  He stopped and raised a brow. The covers had fallen to his waist, revealing a chest that was every bit as impressive as his shoulders. A smattering of dark hair dusted hard planes of muscle and drifted low to disappear beneath the blanket. She’d never seen a man’s chest before but had no doubt this was a magnificent specimen. Perhaps there was something to be said for consummation after all.

  “Yes?” he prompted.

  Her gaze jerked to his. “I... um ... well, I mean ...”

  “Yes?” His gaze slipped from hers to travel downward and at once she realized her blanket too had fallen. She yanked it up to her chin. His gaze met hers and a lazy smile curled his lips. The memory of his mouth on hers washed through her, and once again she wanted to lean forward and—

  “Did you have another question?” Amusement and something else lit his eyes. Something more. Something very, very dangerous.

  She drew a deep breath. “I want to know if you ... if I... if we ... if last night...”

  “Absolutely not.” He shook his head in a slow, solemn manner. “Not last night.”

  She blew a long sigh of relief and ignored a vague sense of disappointment. “Oh, well, I just... wondered. The last few days are all rather jumbled in my head and my memory is somewhat fuzzy and I—”

  “Of course, we did arrive the night before last.” She widened her eyes and he laughed. “And I, you, we did nothing but sleep.”

  He reached out and took her hand and pulled it to his lips. “And I can assure you when I, you, we do something other than sleep in this bed...” He brushed his lips across the back of her hand. Heat flashed through her. His gaze simmered and her breath caught. “You will remember it.”

  For an endless moment she could do nothing more than stare at him. Stare into his seductive, midnight eyes. And she knew if he wanted her right now, she would be his. Willingly. The realization snapped her back to her senses and she withdrew her hand.

  “I daresay we will both remember it,” she said with an air of confidence she didn’t entirely feel
.

  “Excellent.” He laughed again. “You may well be more intelligent than I had thought.”

  “Oh, thank you, my lord. Rand.” She fluttered her eyes at him in an exaggerated manner. “I am so flattered by your reassessment of my character. And what else was there? Ah yes. Am I still as shallow as you originally thought? Still as spoiled, and are my morals still in question?”

  “Shallow and spoiled? Let me think.” He crossed his arms over his naked chest and she tried to ignore how his various muscles flexed with the movement. He leaned back against the pillows, considered her question, and grinned. “Probably.”

  She burst into laughter and was rewarded by his surprised expression. “You are an honest man, Rand. I will give you that.” She tilted her head and cast him a well-practiced and most flirtatious smile. “And what of my morals?”

  “I’m not entirely certain at the moment. And more, not at all sure if I want to be wrong”—a slow smile spread across his face—“or if I very much want to be right.”

  She laughed again. Marriage to Lord Beaumont—to Rand—might be rather more enjoyable than she had imagined.

  “It’s past time we were both up and about.” He cast her a warning look. “I am going to get out of bed now.”

  “As you wish.”

  “And I have nothing on,” he said.

  “I didn’t think you did.” She smiled sweetly.

  He stared in disbelief. “Are you just going to watch me then?”

  “Unless you need assistance, but I’m sure you can dress yourself.” She twisted, plumped up the pillow behind her, then settled back. There was something quite delightful about turning the tables on him. “This is, as you have so kindly pointed out, my room as well as yours. And, as I have no intention of rising at the moment, I think I shall indeed simply sit here and think about my marriage and all it entails.”

  “Aren’t you even going to turn your head?” Indignation rang in his voice.

  It was all she could do to keep from grinning like a lunatic. Teasing Rand was the most fun she’d had in days. And who would have imagined the man would be so modest? Well, it was his turn to be uncomfortable and annoyed.

  “I could, I suppose, but I too am curious about my morals. Other than that insignificant incident of meeting with the prince—”

  “The insignificant incident that got us into all this.”

  “Yes, that’s the one. Aside from that, I’ve never really confronted the question of my morals. So it seems to me this is something of a test.”

  “I have no clothes on.” He ground out the words.

  “That’s why it’s a test.” She cast him her brightest smile. “Will I look or will I close my eyes?”

  “This doesn’t bother me in the least, you know.”

  “Well, it isn’t a test of your morals, now, is it? I’ve never been in a situation like this before, whereas I have no doubt endless numbers of women have seen you without clothing.”

  “Not endless.” He huffed. “But a considerable number.”

  “And were there any, oh what’s the word I’m thinking of...” She paused thoughtfully. “I know. Complaints?”

  “None whatsoever.” He glared as if questioning her nerve to so much as suggest such a thing.

  “Then I’m confident I shall have none either.” She waved him off. “Do go on. Don’t mind me.”

  “I won’t.” He was obviously reluctant to stand up. “My clothes are in the dressing room behind that door.” He nodded toward the near wall. “Your bag is there by the wardrobe. I was up briefly yesterday and stopped the maids from unpacking. I didn’t want them to disturb you.”

  “Your thoughtfulness is most appreciated.”

  “Yes, well, I am definitely getting up now.” He didn’t move an inch.

  “Rand, may I ask you one more question?”

  “Of course.” Relief crossed his face at the reprieve.

  She widened her eyes in feigned innocence. “Who, precisely, removed my clothes?”

  He stared at her for a long moment. Slowly, he smiled with genuine admiration. “Well played, Jocelyn.” He looked like a man who had just discovered the world was not at all as he thought it was. “Very well played.”

  He chuckled, and before she could respond he was on his feet, striding across the room. Her face warmed at the sight of his nicely sculpted backside. The rest of him quite fulfilled the promise of his shoulders.

  He needn’t have worried about what she might or might not see. Within a few steps he was nothing more than a large flesh-colored blur. Did he know about her sight problem? She couldn’t remember if it had been mentioned or not but surely Thomas had told him. Still, it was of little consequence.

  He did keep his back to her and while she never would have admitted it to him, she was grateful. She wasn’t entirely sure she was ready to see a completely naked man. She wasn’t particularly ready to see a naked rear end either, but causing him this bit of discomfort was certainly worth it.

  From the moment of their first meeting he had, after all, had the upper hand, and she was quite tired of it. And tired as well of feeling as if absolutely everything in her life was totally out of her control. This was a minor victory but a victory nonetheless.

  He disappeared into the dressing room. Jocelyn slipped out of bed and winced. Every muscle in her body was stiff and sore. Gingerly she made her way toward the large brown smudge on the far wall that she hoped was the wardrobe. She found her bag at once, opened it, and pulled out a dress. This would do. She had no idea how quickly Rand would reappear and preferred to be fully clothed when he did. Then she could find a washbasin although it was more than likely in the dressing room. She threw the garment on over her head. It was a simple day dress and she could fasten it without assistance.

  She picked up the valise, brought it to the bed, and sat down to see what else her sisters had managed to fit into the far too tiny satchel. She pawed through the bag and found her hairbrush, several other items, and a small, oblong package, wrapped in tissue and tied with a blue ribbon. A note was tucked under the bow. She pulled the paper free and unfolded it.

  Dearest Jocelyn,

  Some day you might well wish to see beyond the tips of your fingers and then you will need these.

  Yours with affection, Marianne

  Whatever did she mean? Jocelyn untied the ribbon and pulled off the paper. A pair of spectacles lay in her hand.

  Jocelyn drew her brows together in annoyance. Marianne knew full well Jocelyn would never so much as consider wearing glasses. Part of that shallow nature of hers, no doubt. She turned the spectacles over in her hand. Marianne had probably ordered these made specifically for Jocelyn. Well, she could try them on, she supposed.

  She slipped the wires over her ears and glanced up.

  The room jumped out at her and she started. Then stared.

  It was as if a gauzy fabric was lifted from the world. The walls, a gray stone with subtle patterns of subdued color, were sharp and distinct. The ceiling soared upward overhead, held aloft by carved stone arches. With every discovery, her excitement grew. There was indeed a wardrobe against one wall, a clothespress against another, and a brightly colored tapestry on a third—beside the door to the dressing room, she noted with satisfaction. Two well-worn chairs sat in front of a massive fireplace. A multipaned, leaded glass window framed streams of morning light, a built-in cushioned seat nestled beneath it. She flew to the window and pushed it open.

  Green hills rolled away toward eternity. Here and there trees stretched upward toward the heavens. Clouds like fluffs of down drifted overhead. And good Lord, was that a lake in the distance? It was amazing. She could see forever. Maybe even farther.

  She leaned her elbows on the stone sill, rested her chin in her hands, and gazed out in fascination. Why hadn’t anyone told her about this? She ignored the voice in the back of her head that said Marianne and nearly everyone else in her family had. Over and over again.

  “Jocelyn?” Ra
nd called from the dressing room.

  She snatched the spectacles off her nose, hid them in the folds of her skirt, and whirled away from the window. It was a rather shallow and terribly vain reaction, but she had only just started trying to improve her character and it was absurd to expect miracles. “Yes?”

  “I’m coming out in a minute and I warn you, I will be fully clothed.”

  “Don’t tease me, Rand,” she said absently, fingering the glasses in her hand. How incredible that something so insignificant could change her world so completely. “My spoiled nature simply can’t handle it.”

  His laugh echoed through the room.

  She smiled with satisfaction. She had bested him earlier and the lovely feeling of success lingered even now. Better still, he wasn’t at all upset by her victory but rather impressed. She didn’t believe she’d ever impressed a man before, at least not in this particular manner.

  The realization pulled her up short. The admiration in his eyes had nothing to do with how she looked and everything to do with who she was. Her wit and her mind as opposed to her face and her figure.

  It was the nicest compliment she’d ever had.

  Chapter 6

  It was a very large castle.

  At least that was Jocelyn’s impression. Rand led her through the broad corridors and down the wide spiral stone stairs of the ancient building. In the manner of an excellent tour guide, he pointed out the various chambers and their uses. They passed a chapel and any number of smaller rooms. She couldn’t possibly remember it all nor could, she see much of what he commented on unless it was close at hand. She promised herself to explore later without him and with her spectacles. She also vowed to work harder on her problem with vanity, part of her promise to be a better person.

  “And this is the gallery.” Rand stepped into a grand corridor that overlooked the lower floor. “That’s the great hall below us. It was originally used for feasts and sundry public events. Now it serves the purpose of a parlor, albeit a very large parlor. There’s also an enormous dining hall. I’ll show you that later.”