“Fellows, you may retire for the evening.” Reign slowly allowed Sophia to slide down the front length of his body until her feet touched the floor. He ignored the peevish look she shot him as she shook out her rumpled skirt. “Lady Rainecourt will see to my needs.”
“Very well, milord,” Fellows said cheerfully. “Good evening to you both.”
Sophia whirled around and stabbed her finger into his chest. “Honestly, Reign, was that truly necessary?”
Reign gave her an unrepentant grin. “I thought every young lady dreams of being swept off her feet by a gallant gentleman?”
Sophia crossed her arms over her breasts. She was pretending to be vexed by his actions, but she could not conceal the spark of humor in her eyes. “You tossed me over your shoulder as if I were a sack of grain and provided the opportunity for your mischievous cohorts to ogle my ankles on our ascent. This is not the stuff of romance, you annoying man!”
Sophia swung her fist at him and missed. Reign spun her and tugged her slender back against his chest. “Admit it. You like my friends.”
She leaned her head back against him. “Yes.”
Reign kissed the top of her head. “And they like you.”
None of his friends had approved of Beatrice. He winced at the unbidden comparison. It seemed unfair to both women.
“Is it important?” Sophia asked, staring straight ahead as he rocked her slowly in his embrace.
“They are my family,” he said simply.
Sophia nodded. “Then I shall think of them as brothers.”
Her quiet acceptance humbled Reign. Her dire circumstances with her brother had forced her into a marriage that she had not wanted, and yet Sophia was not one to bemoan her fate. She was willing to accept Reign into her life and into her bed.
For the first time in his adult life, he stared at his bed with apprehension. How does one go about seducing one’s wife? There had been other ladies in his life since his wife’s death; a steady stream of mistresses to prove to himself that his failings with Beatrice could be blamed on youth and inexperience.
Sophia had taken a great risk in marrying him, and Reign did not want her to come to regret her hasty decision.
“Are you nervous?” he murmured, idly stroking his fingers down her right arm.
“Yes.” Sophia turned in his embrace and concentrated on his face. His answer seemed important to her. “Are you?”
Sophia mentally cringed at her ridiculous question. Reign was a man of the world. He had been married once and had known loss. Why would he be anxious on his wedding night? After his wife’s death, he had probably bedded dozens of mistresses. Hundreds. It had been a foolish thing to blurt—
“Yes.”
Her eyes widened at his quiet admission.
“You seem surprised.” His hand lightly caressed her cheek. “I do not have much experience with innocents. After . . . well, it just seemed best to avoid them. I want to please you.”
Her heart skipped a beat, and then raced at his words. “Then you will,” she said, smiling brilliantly up at him.
Sophia stepped out of Reign’s embrace and offered her back to him. Although her knowledge of what transpired between lovers was sketchy at best, even she knew her dress would no longer be required.
She shyly glanced over her shoulder. “Since you dismissed the maids, you will have to assist me.”
Reign teased the tiny curl at the nape of her neck with his finger. “Are you eager to sample the delights of our marriage bed?”
Sophia brought her hand to her throat as she considered the question. “I must admit that intellectually I am curious to separate truth from exaggeration. I have been told that there will be pain.”
And blood, she thought with a delicate shiver.
Reign unfastened her necklace, and the heavy links slipped into her hand. Sophia could feel the weight of his stare as his gaze dropped to the buttons on her dress. “When a lady takes a lover for the first time, some discomfort is unavoidable. Nevertheless, I would rather leave you a virgin than to have you fear my touch.”
Sophia suspected her new husband was grimly dwelling on the unwelcome specters of his past. She had learned enough from others that Reign’s marriage to Beatrice was an unhappy affair, long before her unfortunate accident. Would the lady always stand between her and Reign?
“You have been nothing but kind to me,” she said tenderly, suddenly understanding that he expected her to reject him now that she had secured his protection and was safe from her brother’s influence. “I trust you, husband.”
Reign buried his face into the hollow of her shoulder and inhaled the floral scent she had applied as she dressed for her wedding. “Then you are more innocent than I could have ever guessed.”
Before Sophia could question Reign on his meaning, he had moved away from her and opened the door. “It was thoughtless of me to rush you into bed. I will send Sin’s wife to you. She will know what needs to be said.”
Reign was leaving her. Dread fluttered in her stomach as she took several careful steps toward the door. “My lord—Reign, have I offended you? If so, please forgive me. It was not my intention.” Without her walking stick, she felt vulnerable in the unfamiliar room.
“Wait for Juliana.”
He shut the door, ending the discussion.
Sophia blinked, perplexed by what had driven her husband out of the bedchamber. Reaching out to steady her gait, she slowly walked to the empty bed. She placed her palm on the dark green velvet covering and sat down.
Perhaps Lady Sinclair could provide some insight on how she had ruined her wedding night.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Sophia raised her bowed head at the soft knock on the door.
“Sophia?” Juliana entreated from the other side. She paused for a response. “May I enter?”
Without waiting for a reply, Juliana opened the door and poked her head in. The marchioness sighed as she noted Sophia’s miserable expression. “Husbands can be a trial,” she said, her soothing voice laced with sympathy. “Most wait until they have had their pleasure. Leave it to Reign to be a most unusual husband.”
Sophia burst into tears.
Juliana strode purposely to Sophia’s side and embraced her.
Unsettled nerves and disappointments are often best settled with a good cry.
“Where is Lady Fanny?” Reign asked, filling his glass with a generous portion of brandy. From the corner of his eye, he noticed that Vane had succumbed to his overindulging. Facedown, he was sprawled out on one of the sofas. His raspy snores filled the awkward silence in the drawing room.
“Saint offered to escort her home shortly after you carried your bride upstairs,” Dare said, his arms crossed and resting on his chest.
“Speaking of your bride,” Sin said, pointedly raising his gaze heavenward. “Why are you here, and my wife upstairs?”
Frost snickered as he straddled a chair. “No steel in his velvet sword, I wager.”
Reign choked on the brandy he had swallowed. He grimaced and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Stifle it, Frost. I am in no mood for your vulgarity and insinuations.”
Sensing that the two friends could come to blows, Dare and Hunter positioned themselves in front of Reign.
“Insinuations?” Frost said, sniffing at the word. “I thought I was being rather obvious. Perhaps your cock prefers poking whores instead of virtuous deeds.”
“Frost,” Sin said, his tone clearly a warning.
Oblivious to the danger, Frost folded his hands on the back of the chair and then used them to prop up his chin. “I mean no offense, Reign. Truly. Lady Sophia is a lovely prize for a gent set on marriage. While some poor-spirited gentleman might view her damaged eyes as a flaw—”
“Arse,” Dare muttered, stepping away from Reign.
“Dimwit,” Hunter concurred.
Both gentlemen parted, content to leave Frost in the dank hole he was digging for himself.
“I believe a l
ady who by her very nature can turn a blind eye to her husband’s affairs is by far an asset, in my opinion,” he added in his typically candid manner.
“Did your mother drop you on your head, Frost?” Dare asked, his brows raised. “It would explain your idiocy.”
“More like a death wish,” Sin said, shooting Frost a menacing look. “Enough.”
Frost straightened his spine as his hands parted in exasperation. “What? For speaking the truth? Bollocks! Beatrice almost ruined our friend. Forgive me for expressing some concern when Reign loses his head and marries a chit to keep her brother from selling her to a scoundrel.” He stood as his indignation increased. “What prompted such insanity? Did you think sacrificing your life would cleanse your soul for murdering that duplicitous bitch of a countess?”
Reign slammed his glass down on the sideboard. “You go too far,” he said, shaking his head. “Beatrice has nothing to do with this.”
“Christ,” someone muttered.
His friends never spoke of Beatrice or their suspicions that he had killed her in a drunken rage. Frost had crossed the line by dragging his dead wife into the conversation.
Reign took a threatening step toward Frost. “Although it is no business of yours, I married Sophia because it suited me to do so. I wanted her. Her brothers’ stupidity dropped her neatly into my hands and I took advantage of the situation.”
“You did not have to marry the chit to save her,” Frost argued. “You could have bought her a little house and a maid to keep her from tripping over the bloody furniture. With some coaxing, even a penniless virgin would have learned her place, and parted her thighs for the Devil of Rainecourt! Hell, I would have fu—”
Reign rammed his clenched fist into Frost’s jaw, ruthlessly ending the conversation.
“Feel better?”
Sophia smiled and nodded. “You have been very kind, Juliana. I feel like a fool for crying all over your beautiful dress.”
Thankfully, Sophia’s tears had been fierce, yet brief. After she had sobbed out her frustration with Reign, her new friend had acted as her personal maid. The marchioness had helped Sophia undress so that only her chemise remained to protect her modesty and had tucked her into Reign’s bed as if she were a child. Together they had removed the pins from Sophia’s hair.
“Nonsense. I am glad Reign asked me to join you while he was called away.” Juliana retrieved small tortoiseshell comb from her reticule and returned to the bed. Settling in next to her, Juliana set about smoothing Sophia’s tangled blond tresses.
Sophia gave Juliana a wry look. “Reign was not called away. He practically ran out of the room.”
“I do not mean to pry—well, maybe I do,” Juliana hastily amended. “Can you tell me what happened?”
A soft hiccup escaped Sophia’s parted lips. “I confess, I am as bewildered as you. When we spoke of the discomfort of—of . . .” She trailed off, unable to speak of intimacy.
Fortunately, the very married Juliana understood. “Ah, yes. Well, that is a disconcerting subject for most gentlemen.”
“No, that was not what upset him,” Sophia said, closing her eyes. She found Juliana’s gentle strokes with the comb soothing. “I told him that I trusted him, and he accused me of being too innocent.” Her eyes snapped open. “Honestly, how can one be too innocent? One is either innocent or one is not.”
Juliana paused midstroke. “Men are complicated beasts.” She resumed her tender ministrations. “I highly doubt Reign would appreciate us gossiping about his past. Nevertheless, I am certain you have heard the rumors.”
“I know the ton believes Reign murdered his wife,” Sophia said cautiously. “I do not believe it.”
“Neither do I,” Juliana said staunchly, increasing Sophia’s respect for the marchioness. “Still, others believe he had good reason to murder the lady, and there are those who keep the scandal alive.”
Lord and Lady Burrard.
Satisfied with her efforts, Juliana gave Sophia’s hair an affectionate stroke with her fingers and laid the comb in her lap. “According to Sin, this was not the first scandal Reign has endured.”
“You speak of his father’s death—and my parents’,” Sophia said bluntly.
Even before she had met him at Lord and Lady Harper’s ball, her life and Reign’s had been entwined by murder and scandal.
“And his mother’s suicide,” Juliana reminded her. “Reign has lived in the shadow of speculation and scandal for so long, it is a part of him. He knows no other way to live.”
“I have not asked him to change.”
“Of course not. You possess too much intelligence to waste your time on a fool’s endeavor,” Juliana said, clasping Sophia’s hand in a gesture to reassure her. “However, like my Sin, Reign has many admirable traits. Both of them are honorable gentlemen. I cannot speak for Reign, but I would not be surprised if he concluded that he is unworthy of you.”
“What rubbish!” Sophia sputtered.
The bed bounced slightly as Juliana shrugged. “He has pulled an innocent into his dark world. An honorable gentleman might belatedly question his selfish decision.”
“Reign was not selfish,” Sophia protested. “I do not expect you to understand. He spared me from being sold off like the rest of my family’s possessions.”
Juliana’s grip on Sophia’s hand tightened. “I understand the horror of what your brothers put you through more than you know, but we will put that sad tale aside for another day.”
Juliana was merely attempting to assuage Sophia’s humiliation. Good grief, the lady was the Marchioness of Sinclair. She was beautiful, articulate, and she had married well. What could they possibly have in common?
“Sophia?”
She and Juliana had been so immersed in their conversation, they had not noticed that Reign had returned to the bedchamber. There were some notable changes in her husband’s appearance. In his absence, he had discarded his coat and waistcoat. The tails of his linen shirt had been pulled out of his trousers, and the perfect folds of his cravat had been undone. Even his dark hair was in disarray as if he had been scrubbing his scalp with his fingers.
“I was concerned, my lord. Is all well with you?” Sophia inquired demurely.
“I am fine.”
Juliana slipped off the bed and crossed the room to Reign. Sophia lifted the covering to join them, but quickly realized that all that she wore was a chemise.
“And my husband; is he fine as well?” Juliana asked, stuffing her comb into her reticule.
Reign casually braced his arm against the open door. “Sin is in good health. He and the others are helping Frost into his coach.”
From the bed, Sophia asked, “Is Lord Chillingsworth ill?”
“Do not fret, my lady,” her husband said, seemingly unconcerned about his friend. “Frost is merely paying for his numerous sins.”
Juliana nodded, her gaze meeting Reign’s as she completed her task. “Alexius has often told me that Frost has an unfortunate habit of speaking before good sense has a chance to catch up with his tongue. It is often a painful lesson to learn.”
“I did my best,” Reign said, showing plenty of teeth.
Juliana’s eyes crinkled in merriment. “I would imagine so.” She walked back to the bed and impulsively gave Sophia a quick hug. “When you have settled, I hope you will think of calling on our household. If it is possible, I will introduce you to my sisters.”
Sophia smiled at the marchioness’s generous offer. “Thank you. I would enjoy such a visit.”
“Your friend Fanny is welcome, too.” She waved farewell as she walked to the door.
Reign stepped aside and widened the opening for the marchioness. “You also have my gratitude, Juliana,” he said, clasping her hand and bowing. “Thank you for staying with Sophia.”
Juliana brushed her fingers against his cheek in a loving gesture. “My pleasure. You did well for yourself, Reign. Take care of her.”
“I will.”
He
shut the door and twisted the lock.
Sophia glanced pensively at her discarded dress, her petticoat, and the corset that Juliana had laid over the back of one of the chairs. Reign walked over to the table and extinguished the lamp. Next, he crouched in front of the small hearth and tended the glowing coals.
The silence that stretched out between them as her husband went about the mundane tasks was straining her nerves. “My lord—Reign?”
“Yes, Sophia.”
He seemed content to linger at the hearth. “Juliana insisted that I undress and rest during your, uh, absence,” she said, in an attempt to explain why she had climbed into his bed without his permission. “The hour grows late. Would you mind terribly if I asked you to escort me to my bedchamber?”
Reign straightened and slowly turned to face her. “I would, actually.” At her blank expression, he said, “Mind terribly, that is.” He seized the ends of his shirt and pulled it over his head as he approached the bed.
Sophia’s lips parted in amazement as her ruined eyesight gave her intriguing glimpses of Reign’s bare chest. He carelessly tossed his shirt over her garments on the chair.
“You belong in my bed.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Reign was encouraged when his new bride did not begin shrieking at his brazen declaration. After he had rushed her into marriage, and then by all appearances had abandoned her on her wedding night, it was not unrealistic to assume that his bride had spent the past hour and a half contemplating the notion of having their marriage annulled.
“All of this must be awkward for you,” Sophia said, clutching the edges of the sheet that covered her bare legs.
What the devil had Juliana and Sophia discussed in his absence?
Reign gave her a wary glance before he sat down on the edge of the bed. Leaning forward, he concentrated on the task of removing his boots. “No more or less than it is for you, I would wager,” he said, dropping, in turn, each boot onto the floor.
Her eyes cast downward, Sophia smoothed the edges of the sheet in a nervous gesture. “The night I first met you, someone explained the origin of your nickname. He—I was told that it had something to do with a vow you had once made.”
Till Dawn with the Devil Page 12