The Viscount's Bride

by Ann Elizabeth Cree

  She felt a stab of hurt that he would think she might not, as if they were not really married. “Yes, of course.”

  Something like relief flickered in his eyes. “Good,” he said carefully. “I will not detain you any further, then.” He started to rise.

  She caught his hand. “You do not need to escort me to the door. I am quite capable of walking myself.”

  He had stilled at her touch before he pulled his hand from hers. “Then I will see you soon.”

  “Yes.” She rose and walked to the door and then turned to look back at him. He was watching her, an odd longing on his face. For a moment she wanted to run back to him, but then the longing look vanished.

  “Good day, Chloe,” he said and his voice contained nothing but cool dismissal.

  —

  Brandt rang for his valet and then fell back against the pillows. He had used all of his strength for the brief ceremony and the breakfast that followed. All he had really wanted to do was be alone with Chloe, take her into his arms and reassure her that she would be safe with him.

  She had clearly drifted through the ceremony in a daze as if she wasn’t quite sure what was happening. Beneath her smiles he had seen the strain. He wanted to erase that away, but when she took his arm, all control fled and instead he made that damnable remark about joining him in bed.

  She had gone so pale he thought she would faint. Was the thought of his making love to her so repulsive she nearly swooned?

  Very well, then. He would give her distance to accustom herself to the fact they were married. He would return to Waverly as soon as possible, but without her. He would use the excuse that the house still was not in order for her.

  He would have time to accustom himself as well. And make certain his emotions were completely under control.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chloe watched as Betsy unpacked the last of the contents of her trunk. “Is there anything else, Lady Salcombe? Shall I unpack the smaller trunk for you?”

  It took Chloe a moment to realise Betsy addressed her. After nearly five weeks of marriage, she should be accustomed to her new title, but she sometimes forgot. At Falconcliff, most of the servants continued to address her as Lady Chloe so she had nearly forgotten she was married. It had not helped that a week after their wedding, Brandt informed her he would return to Waverly to oversee the remainder of the restoration before her arrival. His manner had been so cool, so final, her pride did not allow her to argue with him. So she had held her tongue and agreed as coolly as he had informed her.

  In fact, from his distant manner they might as well not be married at all. Any hope she had that he might change had been dashed in the weeks following the wedding. Not wanting to let him guess her hurt, she in turn, treated him with the same reserved politeness, which was undoubtedly his idea of a businesslike impersonal marriage.

  “No, not now. I thought I might do it,” she told Betsy. The girl curtsied and then left the room. Chloe walked to the trunk and felt as if she might cry. The two trunks along with several valises had arrived only today. Her mother had returned to Dutton Cottage two weeks earlier, and had packed the remainder of Chloe’s belongings. That they were now in her room at Waverly only emphasised that her home was here.

  She had the same lost, sick feeling she had had when she had first gone off to school. In fact, she had not been feeling particularly well for the past few days, but she never felt very well when she was nervous.

  She should not feel this way. Although Waverly stood less than two miles from Falconcliff, she felt as if an ocean separated the two estates. It was only that she did not know what she was supposed to do. She wondered if all brides felt so uncertain; Emily, for instance, whose wedding had taken place a few days before her own. She could not imagine Emily with her practical, forthright manner feeling such qualms. Emily had undoubtedly moved into Martin Woods knowing exactly what needed to be done.

  She looked around her room. The furnishings were old and the covers faded, but it was clean and neat. The window looked out upon the sea. The garden she had often passed through was below.

  She jumped at the light knock on her door. She turned, half-expecting to see one of the servants. Instead Brandt stood in the doorway. Her heart thudded with a mingling of excitement and fear all at once. He stepped into the room. “I did not mean to startle you.”

  “You did not. At least, not very much.” She was babbling to cover her surprise. He had made it quite clear over the past several weeks that their relationship was to remain impersonal. The night she had lain in his arms seemed so long ago that she was beginning to think it had been a dream for her as well. She had managed to put it aside, and as long as he maintained his distance, she could almost pretend it had not happened.

  “I trust everything arrived safely,” he said.

  “Yes, thank you.” She had no idea why he stood in her bedchamber; but she suddenly wanted his company.

  “You would undoubtedly like to rest before dinner. I will let you do so. If you need anything, you have only to ask Mrs Cromby.” His hand was already on the door.

  “Wait!”

  He turned, his expression polite.

  “I really do not want to rest,” she said.

  “As you wish. This is your home.”

  Did he really care what she did? An anger she was hardly aware of bubbled to the surface. “I rather think I will walk to the shore.”

  The remote politeness was gone in a flash. “I think not, my dear.”

  “You just said that I might do as I wish.”

  “That does not include wandering the seashore unaccompanied.”

  “I have done it before.”

  “Yes,” he said grimly. “Which is going to change. You are not to go out unaccompanied and without telling me.”

  “Why? Does one immediately acquire a keeper as soon as they marry?”

  “No, a husband, which means I am responsible for your well-being.”

  “I cannot see the difference.” She brushed past him into the hall. “I am going to the shore. I know the way so there is no need for you to point it out.” She had no doubt she was aggravating him, but anything was better than the polite distance he had been keeping from her.

  The hand clamped down around her arm took her by surprise, none the less. He pulled her around to face him. “You do need a keeper. You will freeze in that thin gown you are wearing, which I’ve no doubt will be ruined as soon as it is wet. You are not wearing shoes and I doubt very much you intended to retrieve a bonnet.”

  His eyes blazed down into hers. Her mouth was dry, but she was determined to not back down. “Perhaps you should come with me if you are so determined to be my keeper.”

  He stared at her and then an odd light appeared in his eyes. “Perhaps I should.” His eyes strayed to her mouth and for a breathless moment she thought he would kiss her. Instead, he dropped her arm. “Change into a more suitable gown and put on a pair of boots. You can meet me in the garden in half an hour.”

  Her heart thudded as she watched him go. She had the sensation of arousing a sleeping and very dangerous tiger. But then, had that not been her intention all along? To push him out of the cool, passionless marriage of convenience? So what did she want? To lie in his arms as she had that one night?

  She only hoped she knew what she was doing.

  —

  Brandt stood near the gate that led from the garden to the path down to the sea. He felt on edge, wondering if she would decide not to come. His rational mind told him this would be for the best. Particularly if she was as unpredictable and provoking as she had been earlier.

  What the devil had happened? He fully intended to maintain the same cool, impersonal relationship they had agreed upon the day of their wedding. It had been easy enough to do at Falconcliff since he was recovering from his illness. She had seemed no more inclined to seek out his company than he had hers. During the weeks he’d spent alone at Waverly, he had convinced himself that he would have no
problem keeping his distance. Except the erotic dreams that plagued him each night left him wanting her with an ache that increased with each passing day.

  He had no idea why he had gone to her bedchamber except that, when she stood in the hall with her trunks, he had seen loneliness in her face. He had wanted to reassure himself she was well.

  Instead he had lost his damnable temper when she had announced she was going to the shore.

  The prickly sensation at the back of his neck told him she was coming. He turned and saw her picking her way through the garden. Her drab gown and old faded bonnet did nothing to stop the unwelcome rush of desire tightening his loins.

  “I was beginning to think you had changed your mind after all,” he deliberately drawled, in an attempt to disguise his emotion.

  “Of course I did not. It took Betsy a little more time to find my gown and my half-boots.” She met his eyes with that same little defiant look she had in the bedchamber. “I will take less time on the next occasion since I will know where my possessions are.”

  “There will be a next time?”

  “Yes, unless you plan to keep me prisoner. I promised Will and Caroline I would take them on picnics quite often.” She gave him a tight little smile. “Shall we go?” She started down the path.

  He easily caught up to her. “But only with a servant.”

  “We shall see.” She walked a little faster.

  He gritted his teeth and restrained himself from grabbing her arm. “You will do as I say.”

  They had reached the path that led down the cliff. She stopped and looked up at him. “I understood I was free to come and go as I pleased.”

  “Not if you put yourself in danger.”

  “I will hardly be in danger.”

  “Perhaps you might recall that last time you were caught on the rocks.”

  She lifted her chin. “That was a special circumstance.”

  “Was it?”

  “Yes.” She turned and began picking her way down the path.

  This time he did catch her arm. “Perhaps you would allow me to assist you.”

  “I think not.” She pulled her arm from his grasp and continued on down.

  He stared after her, completely bemused. He had no idea what they were even arguing about. She seemed to be deliberately attempting to provoke him.

  Once at the beach she marched over to a rock and sat down, proceeding to untie the laces of her half-boots. He stood in front of her. “What do you think you are doing?” he asked softly.

  She did not look up. “Taking off my boots and stockings so I might wade.”

  “So what is this all about?”

  “I wish to wade.” She pulled off one boot.

  “I think you are attempting to quarrel with me.”

  She looked up then. “Why would I wish to do that?”

  “Perhaps you could tell me.”

  “I do not wish for a quarrel. I merely wanted to go to the shore as I always do.” She looked down and pulled off her other boot.

  “Chloe.”

  She shot him a cool look. “Perhaps you would look away while I take my stockings off. I do not like to be watched.”

  So she was determined to ignore him. In a swift movement he was kneeling in the sand in front of her. “Perhaps you will allow me to do it for you.” Before she could do more than gape at him, he had her foot cupped between his hands.

  She gasped. “Wh…what are you doing?”

  His hand moved up her leg until he found the ribbon holding her stocking in place. He untied it and began unrolling the silky material down her slender limb. If he had hoped to quell his desire, this was hardly the way to go about it. Touching her leg filled him with all sorts of tantalizing images of slowly removing the rest of her clothing.

  He finished his task and looked up at her. “Well?”

  Her eyes were wide and she looked as if she had frozen in place. “I…I can remove my other stocking, if you please.”

  “Ah, but perhaps I would like the pleasure.” At that she jerked her leg out of his reach.

  “N…no.” At least some of the prickly defiance had left her, although she looked now as if he were about to ravish her.

  If she knew how close he was to doing just that, she would probably flee. He rose. “I believe I will occupy myself with the same task. Then we may both wade.” Not that anything less than a full swim would cool his lust.

  She was already in the water when he joined her, the slight breeze moulding her skirts to her slim legs. Her face was lifted to the breeze, her bonnet already dangling by its ribbons down her back.

  “You will ruin your skin,” he said. “Put your bonnet on.”

  “I’ll only take it off for a little while. One cannot properly feel the breeze in a bonnet. I do not suppose you would understand. Men do not need to worry about such things as a complexion. Or freckles.”

  “I believe we discussed this once before. Your skin is too delicate to be exposed to the elements for very long. I would not want you to become burned, which is quite painful.” He paused. “Besides, I like your freckles.”

  “Do you? I think they are hateful.”

  “Not at all. They are charming.”

  She smiled, a little shyly. “Then you will not expect me to continue to use Mrs Butler’s Mustard Ointment for banishing freckles?”

  “I forbid it,” he said softly. Without realising what he was doing, he had stepped closer. He drew a line across the bridge of her nose and heard her intake of breath, but she remained still. When her lips parted, he was lost.

  He grasped her gently by her shoulders and then covered her mouth with his. Her lips tasted as sweet and tantalizing as he remembered, as sweet as in his dream, intoxicating him. She did not protest when he drew her closer, moulding her soft curves to his body. She shyly returned his kiss, pressing herself against him and he thought he would explode.

  He pulled away, dazed. “Chloe.”

  Instead of fear, he saw that her eyes were still heavy with passion. In a sort of stupefied amazement, he realised she desired him.

  “Chloe,” he said again. He reached for her, wanting to continue what they had started, but she stepped back.

  He frowned. “What is it?”

  “Nothing. It is just…” She looked at him helplessly.

  “Just what?” he asked softly. “From your response to our kiss, I would say that you are not indifferent to me.”

  “It is not that.” Her expression was unhappy. A wave brushed up against his legs, reminding him they still stood in the water.

  “This is not the most suitable place to discuss this.” He took her hand. “We’ll sit on the rocks.”

  “Perhaps we should return to the house.”

  “No.” He tucked her arm in his and led her across the sand, then drew her down next to him on one of the rocks.

  He turned to look at her. “Why did you back away from me? Are you afraid of me?”

  She shook her head. “No. I do not know.” He sensed she did.

  “Don’t you?” He touched her cheek with his hand. “There is nothing wrong with an attraction between husband and wife. In fact, I would say it is preferable to indifference. I am not indifferent to you. I have never been.”

  She started, her eyes widening. He held her gaze. “It is most gratifying to discover you are not indifferent to me.”

  “Did…did we not agree to keep our marriage on a passionless basis?” she whispered.

  He shifted closer to her. “We also agreed we would like children. Before she left, my great-aunt again reminded me of my duty to produce an heir. There is no reason why a more intimate relationship cannot be regarded as one of the duties of our arrangement. We can keep it on a passionless basis, of course.”

  “I do not think…”

  “Don’t think. Just regard this as one of the business arrangements.” He pulled her to him, his lips covering hers again. Her lips parted beneath his and she clung to his shoulders. His mouth moved
from her lips to her neck and back to her mouth again.

  He finally released her, some sort of reason penetrating his brain. Her breath came in short gasps; her expression that of a woman who had been well-kissed. And in the throes of passion whether she wanted to admit it or not.

  He would not push her too far, overwhelm her as he did in the billiard room. “I think that is enough business for now,” he said.

  “I…I agree.” She did not quite meet his eyes. “I would like to return to the house.”

  “I will be delighted to escort you to the shore any time you like.”

  “Oh.” Delicate colour stained her cheeks as she stood. She still looked dazed as she retrieved her stockings and half-boots.

  He watched her, a surge of masculine triumph shooting through him. She was not immune to him and he planned to take full advantage of that. He would give her time, seduce her slowly so that by the time she came to his bed, she would be there willingly. Their love-making would be all the more sweet if he did not rush her too quickly.

  There was no need for the marriage bed, even in a marriage of convenience, to be a duty. For either of them.

  —

  Chloe’s fingers shook as she fastened her ear-ring. In a few minutes, she would descend to the drawing room and then he would escort her to the dining room for their first dinner together at Waverly. And after that…

  Her legs felt weak, even thinking about this afternoon. She had no idea how it happened; one moment they were discussing freckles and then she was in his arms. Her body had responded to his and any thoughts of trying to deny her response fled. She had been utterly lost as soon as his lips found hers. Just as she had been that night in his bed.

  She must find a way to tell him. Before she went to him again. For he made it very clear that he expected her to be a wife in every sense. After today she could no longer pretend a virginal fear of marriage.

  He wanted an heir.

  Her stomach lurched. But what was she to say to him? What if he thought she had been unfaithful? How would he ever believe that she had been with him if he had no recollection?

  Perhaps, she thought desperately, he would not notice. Or perhaps if she somehow drugged him again?