Love and Marriage

by Alexandra Ivy

  Her hard-won composure shattered at his deliberate barb at her refusal to perform her wifely duty. “Perhaps a lack of a bride in your bed, but not a lack of a woman,” she charged before she could halt the words.

  He stilled as her unruly accusation hung heavy in the air. “Are you asking if I seek my husbandly comforts elsewhere?”

  “Not at all,” she muttered, cursing her wayward tongue. The last thing she desired was for him to know how the thought of him with other women gnawed deep within her. She far preferred him to believe she was utterly indifferent. “What do I care?”

  His smile remained, but the lean features abruptly hardened. “Yes, indeed. What do you care?”

  “We are straying from the subject.”

  “Of course,” he mocked. “We would not wish to discuss the fact I possess an unwilling wife.”

  Her hands clenched at her side. Oh, yes. One day soon she would bloody that nose. “Is that all you can ever think of, Claredon?” she charged.

  “Do you never think of it, my dear?” he smoothly countered.

  She gave a shake of her head as she stepped back toward the door. “I knew this would be a waste of my time.”

  “Hold.” He abruptly straightened. “What is it that you wanted?”

  She wavered, longing to flee from his aggravating presence and yet still hopeful she could avoid further gossip. At last her lingering horror of the speculative glances and whispered comments halted her retreat.

  She forced herself to meet his gaze squarely. “I hoped that we could keep our ridiculous squabbles in private. I have no desire to worry Vicar Humbly or to stir yet more unnecessary gossip. I have endured enough scandal.”

  He appeared amused by her halting words. “You believe we can convince the good vicar we are happily wed?”

  “I would hope we could at least be civil.”

  “My dear, I am always civil,” he drawled.

  It took an absurd effort not to stamp her foot in frustration. “No, you are always deliberately provoking,” she gritted. “I realize that you take great delight in riling my temper, but I would appreciate it if you would resist the temptation.”

  “You do your own share of provoking, Victoria.” His gaze deliberately lowered to the low cut of her neckline. “And far more cruelly than I.”

  Her hands instinctively lifted to cover the skin that tingled from the heat of his gaze. It infuriated her that despite the fact that this gentleman had ruined her life, despite the fact that he was an insatiable rake, her body still reacted to his mere presence.

  No, not just reacted, she brutally admitted. Shivered, quivered, and downright lusted. It was odiously unfair. “I do not know why I bother,” she muttered, turning on her heel to storm from the room.

  The man was impossible, she told herself as she made her way toward the front salon. Granted, he had been no more pleased than she to be forced into marriage, she reluctantly conceded. And he had at least not left her to face the scandal on her own.

  But there was no excuse for his determined delight in tormenting her. They could go along quite well if only he would follow her lead and maintain a cool civility. To be always baiting her and stirring her ready temper ensured their life together was in constant turmoil.

  Forcing herself to halt before the parlor door, Victoria took in a calming breath and smoothed her hands down her muslin skirt. She had been a fool to approach Claredon. It would be up to her to distract Humbly from the truth of her marriage.

  Hoping she did not appear as flushed and flustered as she felt, Victoria forced herself to step into the room. Although not large, it was prettily painted in a soft lavender, with Parisian paper panels adding a nice hint of elegance. The oak furnishings were covered with an ivory silk that was echoed in the draperies.

  At her entrance, the rotund gentleman attired in black rose to his feet.

  A portion of her nervous unease faded as he offered her a sweet smile. Barely aware she was moving, she crossed the carpet to clasp his hands. “Mr. Humbly, how delightful you have called,” she said, not entirely lying. The vicar carried with him an air of unshakable peace that was very soothing to her taut nerves.

  “My dear Victoria.” He stepped back to eye her in obvious approval. “How wonderful you look. Marriage must agree with you.”

  She swallowed a hysterical urge to laugh. Marriage agree with her? More likely the plague would agree with her. “Yes,” she managed to choke out before she hurriedly changed the subject. “Tell me, what brings you to Kent?”

  The sherry eyes softened. “You, of course, my dear.”

  She attempted to appear surprised. “Me?”

  “I have been concerned.”

  “That is very kind,” she assured him, “but there was no need.”

  His brows lifted. “Was there not? Although I cannot claim an expertise in marriage, I realize that it cannot have been easy to wed a near stranger under such circumstances.”

  “It has been an adjustment,” she conceded, knowing that the vicar was far too wise to be easily fooled.

  “I just wished to assure myself that you are happy.”

  Victoria abruptly moved to settle upon an ivory sofa. “Will you not have a seat?”

  “Thank you.” He lowered his bulk upon a trellis-backed chair, his steady gaze never wavering from her guarded countenance. He could be as tenacious as a bill collector when he desired. “Now, my dear, tell me how you go on.”

  She folded her hands in her lap and sent up a prayer of forgiveness for the lies she was about to utter. Surely a kindly God would understand her distaste for further gossip. “Very well, I thank you. I have been quite busy restoring the estate. It has been a number of years since it was last occupied.”

  He dutifully glanced about the room, patiently allowing himself to be distracted. “You are to be congratulated. It is so refreshing to enter a home that is not so stiffly formal you fear to move in case you tumble a priceless heirloom to the floor.”

  Victoria smiled. She had been pleasantly surprised by the comfortable estate. Claredon’s parents, the Earl and Countess of Moreland, lived in a stiff mausoleum that had made her dread what to expect in Kent. This plain brick home, with two sweeping wings and a lovely conservatory, was far more to her taste.

  “Thank you. This estate is far too small for any pretense of formality.”

  “Just the perfect size.”

  “Yes, I think so.”

  His gaze returned to her wary eyes. “And how is Lord Claredon?”

  “I fear he is busy with the tenants and overseeing the coming harvest,” she replied, hoping Claredon possessed the goodness to stay far away from their guest. If he would not be of help, then at least he could avoid interfering with her own attempts to soothe Mr. Humbly’s doubts. “He is quite dedicated to introducing the latest farming techniques.”

  “An admirable sentiment,” the vicar swiftly approved. “I believe England’s greatness depends upon staying well ahead of other countries.”

  “Lord Claredon is certainly doing his part,” she was able to retort with all honesty.

  “I do hope he will not protest to an uninvited interloper?”

  “Not at all. He will be delighted to have a guest.”

  “And you?”

  Victoria managed to keep her smile intact. “I am very pleased you have come, although it was not at all necessary for you to travel such a distance. Did you not receive my letter?”

  “I did, indeed,” he retorted with a rather mysterious expression. “Which is precisely why I have come.”

  She eyed him in surprise. “But I assured you that all was well.”

  “With a bit too much vehemence, I fear.”

  Victoria felt her cheeks warm in embarrassment. Gads, she should have taken more care. She knew how perceptive he could be beneath his vague air. “That is absurd,” she attempted to bluff.

  “Is it?”

  “Of course. As I said, I have settled into marriage quite comfortably.”


  “And you are happy?” he charged.

  She shifted upon the cushions. “How could I not be? I have managed to wed the most sought after gentleman in all of England.”

  “Being the most sought after bachelor does not ensure a comfortable husband,” he retorted in dry tones. “Nor a blissful marriage.”

  She shivered. No, there was nothing comfortable about Claredon. Nor had marriage been particularly blissful. More like being tossed onto a battlefield.

  Hopelessly searching for some means to divert the all too shrewd vicar, Victoria was relieved when the door to the parlor was pushed open. The relief was short-lived, however, as the lean form of Claredon stepped into the room.

  She rose to her feet, along with Humbly, already feeling her nerves tangling in apprehension. Why the devil had he intruded when she had specifically told him she wished to avoid their fiery confrontations, she silently seethed. Did he intend to deliberately embarrass her just out of spite?

  Moving with the peculiar grace of a predator, he crossed to offer a bow to Humbly. Then, before she could guess his intention, he shifted to stand far too close to her stiff form. She flashed him a wary glance as with a wicked smile he boldly slid an arm about her shoulders. “My dearest, forgive me for being delayed. Dunford insisted I inspect the quarterly reports.”

  His sweet breath stirred the curls upon her cheek, making Victoria shiver with awareness. He was too close. And she did not trust the dangerous fire that smoldered in those deep blue eyes. What the devil was he doing?

  “I . . . Mr. Humbly has come to visit,” she at last managed to mumble.

  “A most welcome guest.”

  “Thank you,” Humbly retorted, regarding the gentleman’s intimate hold upon Victoria with open speculation.

  “Is this your first visit to Kent?”

  “Yes, it is.”

  “Ah, we shall have to ensure you see some of the local sights.” Claredon turned his head to meet her narrowed gaze. “What do you think, my turtle dove? Perhaps we should drive to Canterbury—or, if the good vicar prefers, we could make a visit to Chilham Castle and the Church of St. Mary. I am sure he will be impressed by its fifteenth-century tower.”

  With an effort, she attempted to thrust aside the sizzling awareness that threatened to buckle her knees. It was obvious that Claredon had reconsidered her request and had decided to enter her charade. She should, no doubt, be grateful for his unexpected change of heart. Unfortunately, she had not entirely considered her renegade reaction to his presence when she had so impulsively sought his help.

  “I am sure Mr. Humbly would find any of them fascinating,” she said in uneven tones.

  His fingers aimlessly moved to stroke the bare skin of her shoulder. Victoria caught her breath as a scorching heat raced through her blood at his casual caress.

  “And we must think of entertaining,” he murmured, turning his attention to the silent vicar. “I fear that Victoria and I have been sadly reclusive since coming to Longmeade. We have preferred to maintain our privacy, as I am certain you will understand.”

  “Oh, yes.” Humbly gave a faint cough. “Yes, indeed.”

  “Now, however, we must think of inviting a few of the neighbors.” Audaciously he lowered his head to brush his lips over the sensitive skin of her temple. “I suppose it does not do to keep my beautiful bride to myself, no matter how much I might desire to do so.”

  “Oh, please, do not bother on my account,” Humbly protested, thankfully not noticing how Victoria’s knees threatened to give way.

  “Nonsense, it is no bother,” she said, futilely attempting to put a measure of space between herself and the hard male body. “We have neglected our neighbors quite shamelessly.”

  Claredon gave a low chuckle as his damnable fingers moved to trace the line of her throat.

  “Ah, but what a delicious reason we have had for neglecting them. Others are quite understanding of those upon their honeymoon. Do you not agree, Mr. Humbly?”

  “Oh, certainly. Most understandable.”

  “Especially when one is fortunate enough to have acquired such a beautiful bride,” Claredon drawled.

  Victoria briefly considered stomping upon her husband’s foot. Gads, but he was annoying. She had requested that he be polite, not asked him to seduce her in front of their guest.

  “Claredon, I do not believe Mr. Humbly is interested in hearing of our honeymoon,” she gritted in overly sweet tones.

  “No, no. I am delighted to know that you have both settled into marriage so well,” Humbly assured her, although a question of doubt remained in his sherry eyes.

  “Ah, we have more than settled, have we not, my sweetness?” Claredon murmured. “We are wallowing in marital bliss.”

  Victoria knew what she would like to see Claredon wallowing in. A midden heap came to mind. “I . . . yes.”

  Humbly smiled. “That is lovely.”

  Angry, and not a little anxious to put an end to Claredon’s seductively distracting touch, Victoria determinedly stepped away from his large form. “I should ensure Mrs. Troy has a room prepared for our guest.”

  “No, you remain with the good vicar,” her husband swiftly countered. “I shall speak with Mrs. Troy. Then I fear I must return to the fields. I shall be back in time for dinner.”

  A cowardly relief ran through her. “Very well.”

  Easily reading her thoughts, Claredon gave a low chuckle before swiftly moving forward to claim a brief, shattering kiss. He pulled back, a hint of satisfaction curving his lips at her uncontrollable shudder of excitement. “Do not miss me too much while I am gone,” he murmured.

  Effectively robbed of speech, Victoria watched in silence as Claredon nodded toward the vicar, then turned to leave the room.

  It was the first kiss they had shared since that fateful night that had altered both of their lives.

  Victoria had made it fiercely clear she did not desire his kisses. What else could she do? She had known all along that such intimacies would only lead to danger. Being an innocent did not mean she was completely naive. And as difficult as it might be to admit, she had known since her wedding that she was no more immune to Claredon’s rakish charm than any other nitwitted maiden.

  She had no desire to be one more conquest. The mere thought was unbearable.

  Belatedly gathering her shaken composure, Victoria turned to meet Mr. Humbly’s speculative gaze.

  “Well, it appears that my worries have been for naught,” he murmured.

  Victoria forced a smile to her stiff lips. It was precisely what she had desired. A shiver shook her body. So why did she feel as if she had just loosened a wild tiger from its cage?

  “Yes.”

  Three

  As he indicated, Claredon spent the day in the fields with his tenants. It was a task he relished.

  Unlike many noblemen, he did not consider his land and workers as necessary burdens to be endured to keep him in luxury. He truly enjoyed farming.

  He liked the smell of rich earth early in the morning, watching the seedlings grow to healthy crops, and rejoicing when the harvest was bountiful. He enjoyed experimenting with new techniques and radical notions that were shunned by the more traditional landowners. He even enjoyed getting his hands dirty and calloused as he worked beside his tenants.

  Today, however, he could not deny that his smile was a bit wider and his step a bit lighter. The memory of Victoria’s telling shudder as he had kissed her lingered with a sweet vengeance.

  He had known that beneath her fiery disdain was a passion that matched his own. Only her ridiculous pride forced her to deny them the pleasure that could easily be theirs. Perhaps with Humbly’s unexpected but timely arrival, he would at last possess the opportunity to prove it to her.

  If nothing else, it would at least force her to spend more time in his company, he acknowledged as he made his way back to the manor house. Since coming to Longmeade, she had treated him as little better than a leper. He had been left in
no doubt that she had held him fully responsible for the disaster that had led to their hasty marriage.

  She would not accept she was at least partially to blame for being alone in a posting inn and for posing as her elegant cousin, who had been ruthlessly pursuing him for the past six months. Certainly she never appeared to consider the notion he was as much a victim of the ghastly mix-up as herself. He had not desired to wed—not, at least, until he had discovered the perfect maiden.

  As the youngest and only son with seven older sisters, he had been cosseted and spoiled his entire life. He had also developed a fine appreciation for the fairer sex.

  What could be better than their tantalizing scent, their tinkling laughter and soft touch? He fully enjoyed filling his life with women, all sorts of women, from beautiful to exotic to mysterious.

  But having been raised by a notorious rake, he had realized his love for women carried a heavy cost. Although the Earl of Moreland was deeply devoted to his family, Claredon had been painfully aware of his mother’s distress when his father would seek the company of yet another doxy. Lady Moreland loved her husband too deeply not to feel betrayed by his casual affairs and the unmistakable proof of his by-blows being flaunted throughout the countryside.

  So while Claredon was quite willing to indulge his sensuous nature, he had made an unshakable promise he would remain faithful once he was wed. His own wife would never endure the pain of betrayal, nor his children harbor an inner disappointment in his lack of respect for their mother. The only answer was to find the one utterly unblemished maiden who could bewitch his heart, challenge his mind, and ensure his devotion never wavered.

  A difficult task, he had readily acknowledged, but it was no punishment to search through England for this paragon. Not when the search was readily spiced with the enjoyment of willing women who did not have marriage upon their mind.

  Now his well-schemed plans lay in ruins.