by Lauren Royal
And, of course, there was the bed. Her gaze locked on it, anticipation and apprehension warring somewhere in her stomach. You should know it will hurt…
“Are you all right?” Trick asked.
She nodded, swallowing hard.
He shrugged out of his surcoat and draped it over the back of the room’s only chair. “Sit,” he said, dropping onto it.
There was no other place to sit but the bed. A big bed, very big for a “cottage,” and especially big for this small chamber. Somehow yesterday that had failed to register. It was a plush feather bed, too, not straw or wool. The bed-hangings, of palest ice-blue silk, were free of fussy frills and looked very costly and eminently tasteful.
The counterpane had already been folded back. She gingerly pushed aside an embroidered coverlet and lowered herself to sit on smooth, luxurious sheets.
“Second thoughts?” Perched on the chair in only shirtsleeves, Trick watched her avidly, a pained half-smile on his face. “I offered you a way out of the wedding,” he said on a sigh. “I suppose I can also offer you a way out of the wedding night.”
Sincere though it might be, she couldn’t help but notice the “offer” was uttered in a voice laced with hope.
“I hope to sire an heir,” he added, “but it doesn’t have to be tonight. I know this has happened quickly. We can wait until you feel ready.”
A tempting offer, indeed. But his eyes seemed to plead with her. And her own body was pleading as well, her heart still racing, her hands clenching in her lap.
She remained caught in that imploring gaze while he came forward and knelt before her. Silently lifting her hand, he began working the clasp on the amber bracelet.
“It’s lovely.” She sighed, feeling tingles as his fingers brushed her wrist. “Was it really from you, then?”
“Aye.” Slowly he drew it off, hefting the weight in one hand. “It belonged to my grandmother, and her mother before her.”
“Then why doesn’t your mother have it now?”
“My father never considered her worthy.”
Worthy. Trick barely knew her, yet he considered her worthy. She tried to wrap her mind around the significance of that, but found herself distracted when he raised her now-bare wrist and placed a warm kiss to the inside, where her blood ran near the surface.
The gesture seemed more intimate than a kiss on the mouth.
She shivered as he moved to set the amber bracelet on the night table. The little metallic click made her jump.
“Relax,” he said, returning to the chair. “I’m not going to pounce.”
Watching him remove his cravat and loosen the laces on his shirt, she felt anything but relaxed.
He pulled off his boots and stockings. “So…do you want out?”
She shook her head infinitesimally.
“I’ll play your maid, since she’s not here,” he said, moving to her with an easy smile. He knelt again and drew off her shoes. “Jane, isn’t it?”
“Yes, Jane.”
He reached beneath her skirts, feeling for the ribbons that tied her garters. No man had ever touched her legs. “Trick, I—”
She broke off, because she didn’t know what to say. She had no cause to protest—he was her husband. And he’d offered her an out.
Twice.
“Does your maid not do this?”
“Well, yes.” She felt a garter come loose, and his fingers traced down her calf, rolling the stocking off in a way that sent ripples of sensation over her skin. “But…with Jane it doesn’t feel like this,” she managed.
“I would hope not.” He raised a brow, making short work of the second garter, then held it up, all lace and satin ribbon. “A lovely little French confection, aye?”
“Madame Beaumont imports them. How did you know it came from France?”
He shrugged. “Lucky guess.”
She wondered if he’d removed other French garters. He certainly seemed rather good at it.
Her second stocking came off in a whisper of silk, and he stood, bringing her up with him. He pressed his lips to her forehead, and she melted a little inside.
He gathered her close, resting his chin on her crown. “Your hair smells like lavender fields, leannan.”
His low, throaty voice went right through her. She’d wondered what the marriage bed was all about, and now she had a husband of her own. Very soon she would find out.
You should know it will hurt…
Determined to calm her quivering nerves, to project an inner confidence she didn’t feel, she looked up at him. “I thought that toast was the only Gaelic you knew.”
“Pardon?”
“What does it mean, that word leannan?”
“I…I’m not sure.” His brow creased. “It just slipped out. My mother used to call me that, I think.”
“Maybe it means ‘misbehaving young man.’”
His laughter filled the small chamber. “I think not.” Still smiling, he moved to detach her stomacher. “Does your maid do this?”
“Yes,” she whispered, watching as he worked the tabs. The silver embroidery on her borrowed gown glistened in the firelight. When…how had it been lit? she wondered vaguely. But Trick’s lips were on her neck, doing strange things to the pit of her stomach, and she couldn’t seem to think straight.
He set the stomacher on a chest at the foot of the bed. “Does your maid do this?” His hands moved to pull the pins from her hair. “I think—what is this?” He jerked back, holding up a long red curl, his face registering utter disbelief.
“It’s a false curl. To make my hair plumper.”
“Plumper? Who needs plump hair?”
He raked his fingers through her tresses, coming out with two more curls and…
“Wires? Why wires?”
“To make the curls stand out.” Kendra shifted on her feet, suddenly feeling like Medusa. She tugged her own hands through her hair, plucking out several more wires and three additional curls. “That’s six? I think that’s all.”
“Where do you get these? Wait—I’d rather not know.” He tossed the curls away in disgust and combed the tangles from her hair with his fingers. “Have you any more surprises for me, then? Are your pretty lips your own? Maybe some false hips are hiding beneath that lovely gown?”
“No.” Her hands went to her hips. “These are mine. You don’t…they’re too wide, you think?”
“Nothing about you is wide.” He settled her hair over her shoulders, a curtain down her back. “Except perhaps your smile, and that hair, but we won’t be seeing that again now, will we? Or should I have thrown those curls into the fireplace?” He laughed as his hands covered hers, his thumbs tracing her hipbones. “Ah, the better to bear my children, aye?”
She shook her head. “Trick, the things you say…”
“Ah…” He leaned over her. “The things I say are nothing compared to the things I do.” His hands moved to cup her face, and he caught her up in a long, deep kiss.
Her knees buckled. Trick grabbed her, laughing, and swung her into his arms to deposit her on the bed. She felt dwarfed in its middle, the bedposts and ice-blue damask towering around her, but when Trick came down next to her, the bed was the last thing on her mind.
Coming up on an elbow, he leaned over her. “Does your maid do this?” he asked, slowly untying the bow at the top of her laces.
“N-no. At least, not like that,” she breathed, feeling his fingers part the front of her dress. Her chemise was under it, but still… “I never—”
She broke off, suddenly more than terrified.
Paralyzed.
He froze as well, watching her. “You never what?”
You should know it will hurt…
“I can’t do this,” she blurted out. “I’m sorry. It’s too soon. I didn’t expect to be married. I didn’t expect any of this. I’m—”
“All right,” he said, pulling his hands away.
“I’m not ready—”
“Kendra.” He blew out
a breath. “I said it’s all right. We can wait.”
She blinked. “Do you mean it?”
“I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it.” Sitting up on the edge of the bed, he rubbed his face with his hands. “I won’t ever force you.”
She looked away, feeling so far out of the realm of anything familiar, she had no idea how she should appear, act, or respond. “Thank you,” she said finally.
“You’re welcome.” With a sigh, he rose. “I’ll give you time to ready yourself for sleep.”
Without another word, he walked over and drew a dressing gown from the wardrobe, then left the room.
It sounded like he was planning to come back. She had no idea what to do. It was night, and she had no nightclothes. Feeling shaky, she rose and removed her gown, then climbed back into the big bed in her long white chemise. There she lay waiting. There was nothing else she could do. For better or worse, she was wed to Trick Caldwell.
She wondered if things could get worse.
A while later, he came back into the room and stood over her. His golden hair gleamed in the firelight. “I tried to take it slow, tried to make this night easy for you. Why did you get scared?”
“I don’t know,” she hedged, fearing he’d think her a coward. But he was being kind. He was being patient with her. He deserved the truth. “I’m…Caithren told me it will hurt,” she found herself confessing in a rush.
“It might.” He dropped to sit on the mattress. “But not much, from what I understand, and more importantly, it will hurt only the first time.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.” Angling toward her, he smoothed her hair back from her forehead. “Did you come to this marriage a complete innocent? Did your brothers not tell you anything? Anything at all?”
“My brothers always stuttered when I brought up anything of the sort. I believe they each think one of the others took care of this matter.”
He shook his head good-naturedly, clearly sympathizing with her brothers’ predicament. Then he took a deep breath and blew it out before leaning close. One of his fingers trailed, achingly slowly, from her forehead along the bridge of her nose. He tossed the hair from his eyes and captured her gaze with his, his finger trailing lower, tracing her lips.
“We’ll wait,” he said, his voice low, his accent so thick she had to strain to catch the words. “We’ll wait until you beg me to end the waiting. And you will.”
He paused for so long, so still, that Kendra wondered if he’d ceased breathing. Then he moved to the other side of the bed and wormed his way in beside her, leaving her staring at his back and wondering if he was right.
TWELVE
THE NEXT morning, Kendra was more than relieved when Trick awakened her with a breakfast tray and told her he had “things to take care of” and would return late in the afternoon. She guessed he’d gone out to play the highwayman again and didn’t quite know how she felt about that.
Or him.
Never mind that he knew how to make a decent cup of chocolate with plenty of sugar to satisfy her sweet tooth, she hadn’t any idea what to say to her husband.
It felt a mite ridiculous to put on the wedding dress again, but she had nothing else to wear until her maid arrived with her luggage. She washed up and used Trick’s comb to neaten her hair, then clasped on the amber bracelet, pausing for a moment to appreciate how the diamonds caught the light. Though she wondered if Trick still considered her “worthy,” the bracelet was beautiful, and she intended to enjoy it.
She munched on bread spread with orange butter as she wandered about the cottage. There were three more rooms off the corridor, but Trick had apparently found no use for them. The few pieces of furniture were covered in sheets, the floors and walls clean but unadorned.
Her work was cut out for her, but at least it would give her something to occupy her time. She was used to caring for an entire estate and found it hard to imagine what she would do with herself here. Looking forward to Jane showing up with her things, she anticipated the two of them spending a pleasant couple of days rearranging furniture and unpacking before she went stark raving mad with inactivity.
She chose a room for Jane and another she thought would suffice for herself, since she didn’t plan to share with Trick anymore. The fourth and last room would make a nice nursery, except she had no idea when she’d get brave enough to do what it would take to fill it.
If ever.
Finished with her survey in a depressingly short time, she briefly considered going home to yell at her brothers, but remembered she wasn’t speaking to them. She wandered to the bookshelves that lined the corridor. Noticing an abundance of poetry, she chose a book of Shakespeare’s sonnets and the first two volumes of Milton’s Paradise Lost, then sat herself in the main room to await her maid’s arrival.
She was bored silly by the time Trick showed up, instead.
HE’D SAID HE wanted to give her a “tour of the countryside,” as though she hadn’t lived in the countryside half her life. He’d brought an elaborate supper for them to share in the caleche on the way, though she couldn’t imagine where he’d obtained it.
They’d driven through miles of rich farmland and a country village called Amberley that bustled with prosperity. All the while, he’d kept up an entertaining travelogue but raised no personal subjects. Nor had he responded to her discreet probing, skillfully turning the topic back to the scenery instead.
Three hours later she knew nothing more about him than she had when she said her vows. And after all that had happened between them last night, he hadn’t even touched her.
Not that she wasn’t relieved, but nothing about him seemed to add up, and that in itself was disquieting.
The sun was low in the sky when she dropped her napkin into the picnic basket and licked roast chicken off her fingers. “What if Jane and my trunks arrive and we’re not home to meet her?”
“Don’t worry yourself. We’ll be there soon.” He put his hand on her knee, then looked down and snatched it back, flexing it before gripping the caleche’s reins.
Her knee tingled where his fingers had lain. “But—”
“Don’t worry,” he repeated. “We’re nearly home now.”
“No, we’re not.” She had an excellent sense of direction. Though their meandering journey had brought them back near the cottage, he was now driving the opposite way. “It’s—”
“There.” He inclined his head as he guided the caleche off the road and onto a well-groomed drive. A very long drive. Tall trees lined the way, and an enormous mansion stood at the end.
Built of russet brick with more windows and chimneys than she could count, the mansion had to be at least the size of Cainewood Castle. Except Cainewood was mostly ancient, damaged, and closed-up, while this home sparkled with newness.
“There?” She frowned at an ostentatious clock tower atop the building. Eight o’clock. Little more than a day since she’d been wed, and she’d never felt so lost in her life. “Whatever do you mean? What is this?”
“Your new home.” His wide mouth quirked in a half-smile. “Do you like it?”
“L-like it?” she sputtered. “I don’t understand.” Her hands twisted together in her lap, her fingers finding the amber bracelet and worrying the smooth, polished stones. “Do you work here?”
He blinked, then smiled wider. “Why, yes, I do.”
“What of the cottage?”
“No, I don’t work there. Not usually, in any case. It’s more a place to escape, get off by myself for a while—ah, here we are.”
Puzzled, Kendra turned from Trick to the house, where the double doors were flung open and a steady stream of crimson-liveried servants poured out and down the wide marble steps.
“Welcome home, your grace.”
“Our congratulations!”
“Such a lovely bride!”
“Your grace.” A straight-backed, gray-haired man extended one white-gloved hand to Kendra, presumably to help her down.
She paused before putting her fingers in his, looking about in utter confusion. “Your grace?” she repeated under her breath.
“Your grace,” Trick confirmed, helping her to the gravel. Two grooms appeared from nowhere and took the caleche while more servants scurried to join the double line that flanked the tall, carved front doors.
Trick grasped Kendra by the elbow and guided her toward the steps. “May I present my wife, the Duchess of Amberley. I trust you will all do your best to see she’s happy here.”
Happy? She nodded and smiled stiffly, all the while planning Trick’s murder.
Which would come right after her brothers’.
THIRTEEN
“YOU’RE A DUKE! The Duke of Amberley, no less!” It was unbelievable. No wonder Colin had said the amber bracelet was fitting. She hooked two fingers through it, barely resisting an urge to rip it off.
“Such venom. Losh, you say it as though a duke is the worst sort of knave.”
“In this case, he is.” Kendra paced the red-velvet-hung bedchamber. “How dare you keep such a secret from me!”
“I don’t hold with lying, Kendra. But your brothers asked me not to tell you, and I reckoned it was harmless enough, in the scheme of things.”
“Harmless? You tricked me! I would never have married you had I known—”
“Even though you were in love with me?”
Kendra wanted to slap the smug look off his handsome face. “Love, hah! Why, I don’t even know you. Wherever did you get such an absurd idea?”
“Your brothers told me.”
“They knew nothing about it.” Feeling color creep into her cheeks, she hastened to add, “It wouldn’t matter, anyway. Whatever I may or may not have felt for you was destroyed by your lie.”
“Heart’s wounds.” Trick sighed and dropped onto a tufted brocade chair. “It wasn’t a lie, and most certainly not an important one.”