His grin caused a chill to walk her spine. Did he really have papers? She didn't want to believe him, but she hadn't read through what she'd sent to his house. "Give me the papers you have and I will decide."
"Be ye think I'm a fool. I don't have them here. Well, what say ye?" He stroked her face with a finger.
Nicola trembled. "I say no. Now, go away."
He released her arm and walked to his horse. "Take time ta think about what ye do. I be at the village inn." He mounted the horse. "I want the gems yer pa give you and Siva's Eye."
Nicola watched him ride away. What should she do? Could he demand the marriage be annulled? She couldn't go with him to India, but she had to leave Denmere. She remembered the portmanteau hidden in the stables. Though she didn't want to leave, she would.
* * * *
Drew looked around the barn. Where was his bride? Not long ago, she'd been surrounded by a gaggle of women. Odd, he thought. Elizabeth had also vanished. He glanced at the loft where a dozen or more children played and didn't see Margaret's white dress. Knowing the dress was no longer pristine, he smiled.
He pulled his watch from the fob pocket and flipped the case open. Time to head to the house to greet the guests who would soon arrive. He took his leave of the group of tenants and strode to the house. When he saw his bride near the fountain, he frowned. He caught a glimpse of a figure on horseback headed down the lane.
Who, he wondered. Would Crawford have left without creating a scene? He thought about the papers Mr. Grey had mentioned. Crawford had tried to pass them off as being from Nicola's father, but the solicitor had declared them forgeries. Drew's shoulder muscles tightened.
She was his. Tonight, his claim would be made beyond contention. Unwilling to see in her face concern for another man, he turned toward the kitchen. If she loved this other man, she would never love him. He found he had no care for that idea at all.
Chapter 12
Nicola watched Drew walk away from the buffet with a plate of food for her that she didn't want. Though she had eaten little today, she had no appetite. Cousin Fergus was here and he'd threatened to create a scandal unless she did as he demanded. The clock in the corner of the Great Parlor chimed eleven times. Her throat tightened. Across the table, Cynthia Rasher and Barbara Wythe flirted with the Duke of Cairnton and the Marquis of Fenwick. Their inane gossip failed to capture Nicola's attention.
"Deny him your bed. I'll take your sisters. Ye be wed but not bedded. Annul the marriage. I be at the inn. Come to Calcutta."
Round and round these words rolled like the wheel Yogi Yakshi had spoken about.
"Your pa be a thief. What will the Earl's fine friends think? Your grandmother will be shamed. Tales spread."
That much she believed. Gossip was like a swarm of wasps stinging again and again. Her grandmother didn't deserve another scandal. Neither did Drew. Would her sisters be safe if she failed to obey Cousin Fergus? She feared he would carry out his threats, but she didn't think he would keep his word if she gave in to his threats.
Drew sat beside her. She looked at the full plate. Lobster patties. A curry of chicken. A slice of duck. A medley of vegetables.
"Thank you, my...Drew." The words emerged in a hoarse whisper.
Cynthia Rasher giggled. Barbara Wythe smirked. Drew rested his hand on hers. She imagined he'd meant to calm her, but the pressure of his fingers raised a different set of emotions, though one of them was also fear. A fear of the unknown events to occur later tonight.
She lifted her fork and ate without tasting the food. The marriage would be consummated. Then she would take the gems and vanish. Cousin Fergus couldn't act on his threats if she were not here. Drew would protect the girls. She sighed and put the fork on the plate. Great sadness encompassed her. She didn't want to go. She wanted to remain at Denmere and --. She swallowed. Why did she want to stay here when the Earl did not and never would love her?
This evening, he'd been courteous and distant. Though he acted like an attentive bridegroom, she sensed he played a role. Would he come to her tonight? Her fingers pleated the napkin. If he did, what would he do?
The Kama Sutra called for three days to pass between the wedding and the act of sexual congress. Since she had to leave tomorrow before Cousin Fergus ferreted out her plans, there was no time for a lengthy courtship. Did Drew know and could she entice him to complete the act without the days of gentle persuasion.
Drew rose. He paused beside Miss Wythe's chair. "I believe you promised this dance to me."
The dark-haired young woman smiled at Nicola and her friend. "Oh la, you did. I can see you don't intend to live in your bride's pocket."
Cynthia Rasher leaned toward Cairnton. The Duke reached for Nicola's hand. "This dance is mine, Countess."
Though Nicola felt battered by a multitude of fears, she rose. "You are right, your Grace."
"Tristan," he said. "There's no need to stand on ceremony. Drew and I are near brothers as are Michael and Niall." As they walked to the ballroom, he held her arm. "Along with a husband, you've gained three brothers who will do their best for you."
Dare she share her problems with this charming man? She didn't believe he would keep silent about her desire to run and hide. His loyalty was to her husband.
He led her into a set. As she moved through the figures of the dance, her edginess grew.
The dance ended. Before she caught her breath, she was pulled into a reel by Niall. Then Michael led her into a country dance. At the end of the dance, he brought her a glass of champagne.
She sipped the sparkling beverage. Though she'd heard champagne relaxed tensions, she felt no lessening of the growing unease planted by the encounter with her father's cousin.
She looked up and saw her husband striding across the room. Her heart beat in double time. Not knowing why, she rose and walked to her grandmother.
"Smile. You should be the happiest of women. The tenants were impressed. The servants approve of you. Our guests have been lavish in their praise of the changes in the manor house and of the food.
Nicola sank on a chair beside her grandmother. "I've done little. Elizabeth has more to do with the changes and Margaret with the food. She badgered Cook for days."
"You sold the gems your father gave you. You hired the servants and issued the orders." The Dowager patted Nicola's hand. "This day has made me most joyful. To see the man who is the son of my heart wed to the daughter of my youngest child is near more than I can bear." She pressed her hand to her chest.
"Grandmother, are you ill?"
"'Tis joy." She looked up. "My boy, I've just told your wife what happiness the pair of you have given me this day."
Drew kissed the Dowager's cheek. "I'm pleased." He turned to Nicola. "My lady, will you walk with me?"
His use of the same formal voice he had always used with him made her swallow, "'Twill be my pleasure, my lord."
He led her into the gallery hall outside the ballroom where portraits of the many Earls of Denmere and their families had once been displayed. Candles in the sconces along the walls showed places where frames had once hung.
Nicola felt as though a storm gathered and she wanted to hold it back "My...Drew, do you think we could find the pictures that were once here?"
"Perhaps a few, though many of them were painted by master artists and now grace the walls of merchants with pretensions."
"Grandmother regrets that her bride portrait is gone."
He turned her to face him. "We have matters other than portraits to consider now." His hands moved to her waist and tugged her slowly toward him. "You are mine."
His lips touched hers. Her fears vanished beneath his gentle assault on her mouth. She parted her lips. Since she was a bride, fighting with the tongue was now allowed. Soon he would perform the kisses and caresses she had only read about.
He pulled her ever closer. Her breasts pressed against his chest. They ached and throbbed in harmony with the pulses in her yoni. Not knowing why, she moved
against him. His lingam felt hard, she felt an answering throb against her abdomen. She yearned to feel his hands on her flesh. She wanted to touch his skin, to stroke his muscles and compare them with those of the statues of Siva she had seen.
He groaned and stepped back. "The time has come for you to go to our rooms."
"But the guests, what will they think?" She felt the heat of embarrassment rise in her cheeks. Naught had been said in the Kama Sutra about the presence of guests in the house of the bride and groom.
"They will understand." He smiled. Her heart beat a staccato rhythm. "Years ago, the guests would have escorted us to our chamber and stripped us to make sure there were no blemishes to void the match."
She stared at the floor. Uncertainty flooded her. "I am glad I did not live then."
"So am I." I've no desire for any man other than myself to see your body." He pushed her toward the stairs. "Go. I will play host awhile longer and give you time to prepare for bed."
She wondered about the roughness of his voice. Had she done something wrong? Reading about an action and performing one were different. He seemed eager for the consummation. Soon Cousin Fergus would have no cause to annul the marriage.
Holding her skirt, she hurried upstairs to the rooms she would share with Drew. She had been in the suite but thrice. Once to set the maids to clearing. The second to select new draperies and spreads for her chamber and the third to do the same for the Earl's sleeping room.
Two bedrooms, separated by a dressing room. The first time she'd thought the arrangement odd. Her parents had shared a bedchamber. Their wide bed minus the insect netting stood where a none-too-steady four poster had been.
When she entered the room, Peggy rose. "My lady, welcome. I've spent the evening arranging your belongings."
Nicola turned slowly. The chests her parents had used stood on either side of the wardrobe. Her mother's dressing table had been placed between the windows. Aqua draperies at the windows matched the bed cover and hangings. A pair of chairs fronted the fireplace. On the table between the chairs, she saw her copy of the Kama Sutra. Tonight, she would experience the things she had read of in the book.
"My lady, a bath is waiting. Miss Margaret gave me a special oil for the water. Smells heavenly." The round faced maid moved behind Nicola and began to open the buttons on the dress.
"Thank you." Nicola inhaled the scent of jasmine. The day had been long. She felt tired and yet filled with an odd energy. She followed the maid into the dressing room. Peggy added a kettle of steaming water that released an overpowering scent of jasmine scented with cloves.
After Nicola dried herself, Peggy produced a silk nightrail. The sheerness of the cloth made Nicola swallow. 'Twould leave nothing hidden from the eyes of her groom. Wistfully, she thought of her heavier sleeping garment but allowed Peggy to lift the gown over her head. With shaking fingers, Nicola fastened the long row of tiny buttons. Then she sat at the dressing table so Peggy could brush her hair.
When the maid placed the brush on the dressing table, Nicola turned. "Have you forgotten the braids?"
The maid blushed. "Your hair be beautiful and it reaches near to your hips. Men like unbound hair. The Earl will be pleased."
Nicola looked away. "I see."
"Will you be wanting anything else, my lady?"
Nicola shook her head. "You can go. I'll ring in the morning when I need you."
The door closed behind the maid. Nicola paced from one side of the room to the other. She avoided looking at the bed. Would the Earl come to her or invite her into his chamber? She sat on one of the chairs and reached for the Kama Sutra. Before she had time to do more than open the book, she heard the door close. Expecting to see the Earl, she tensed.
"Young Miss, I have brewed a special tea for you," Prabha said. "Will help you be pliant when your husband initiates you into the duties of a wife."
"Why must they be duties? The Kama Sutra speaks only of pleasure." She accepted the cup.
"But duty can be pleasure."
Nicola sipped the tea. "'Tis bitter."
“Best bitter now than tears in the morning."
Nicola put the cup on the table. "I'll finish later."
"In the morning, I will come for your sheets."
"You don't have to change the beds. The maid will take care of the matter."
"This I must do. You will know the reason when I come." Prabha put her hands on Nicola's shoulders. "Do not fight your husband. If you do, the pain will be most hard to bear. If he is a kind husband, he will make sure you are ready to receive him before he acts."
Prabha left the room as silently as she had come. Nicola clutched the book to her chest, but her eyes focused on the dressing room door. With each moment that passed, her muscles coiled tighter.
* * * *
Drew heard the clock strike the half hour and realized he'd sent his bride upstairs more than an hour before. He escorted Miss Rasher to her mother and bowed. Her simpering voice and smile irritated him. Thank heavens he'd seen how shallow the chit was before he fell into the trap the Baron had set. A handsome dowry and the promise of land with borders matching his estate would not be payment enough for eternal boredom.
With Nicola -- He cut off the thought of his bride's superiority to most of the women he knew. All evening, she had been edgy and aloof. The reason brought anger rising like oil spilled onto water. She'd spoken to another man this afternoon and had stood with slumped shoulders when the man had ridden away. Did she love that man? Drew uncoiled his fists. She had married him. By command. Out of fear. Neither reason pleased him.
He inhaled. Nicola belonged to him. This morning in church, she had vowed to love him. Soon he intended to claim her swiftly and completely. He wouldn't leave her side until she carried his heir. He wouldn't give her a chance to leave him.
"Aunt Aldora." He paused in front of the Dowager.
"La Drew, why do you neglect Nicola and dance attendance on that foolish chit?"
He leaned toward her. "I won't sit in any woman's pocket."
"Even on the day you are wed. I don't believe you are so lacking in feeling."
"I have sent her to her room and given her time to prepare. I'm about to join her and only stopped to bid you good night."
She covered his hand with hers. "Be gentle with her, my boy, and she will bring you all the love you have missed in your life."
Love! He had no need for love, just for a willing and obedient wife, one who would remain forever at his side. He would not let her make the choice his mother had. "I'll see you in the morning."
* * * *
Aldora watched Drew stride across the room. She had seen sadness and anger in his eyes. She sighed. Would he give her granddaughter a chance to show her loving heart?
This day had brought happiness. The evening had laid sorrow on her plate. There was naught she could do to lighten Drew's spirits.
Time, she thought. She prayed he would be able to offer his bride trust before Nicola carried out her threat to leave Denmere.
* * * *
Drew paused at the foot of the stairs. Would Aldora retain her foolish belief in love if she knew there was another man who owned Nicola's heart? He gripped the railing. His bride's feelings didn't matter. If not her heart, he would possess her body.
With each step, his desire for her grew. By the time he reached his chamber, he was hard and ached. He opened the door.
Bevel, his valet, turned from the wardrobe. "My lord, a bath awaits."
Drew waved him away. He wanted no one to see the evidence of his arousal. "There is no need."
"My lord, you can't approach your bride with the odors of your day's exertion evident."
Drew held in a groan. In his own way, Bevel was as officious as Agnes Smythe had been. "Then leave me."
"Don't you want my assistance?"
"I've been taking care of myself for years."
"As well I know. The condition of your wardrobe when I arrived was abominable."
"Go," Drew said. "I'll see you in the morning at the usual time."
Bevel's brows lifted. "Very good, my lord." As he left the room, he shook his head.
Seeing the valet's disbelief about an early awakening, Drew frowned. The estates wouldn't lie fallow while he entertained his bride.
He waited until the door closed. Then he unfastened the turquoise studs and pulled the pin free from his cravat. This morning, the gift had brought warmth, but he'd learned how false the gesture had been. He pulled his cravat free and dropped the studs and pin on his dressing table. Then he stripped off his clothes and tossed them on a chair.
Even the suspicion of his bride's feelings for another man had no effect on his lust. He lifted his robe from the foot of the bed and entered the dressing room. His bride's floral scent lingered in the air. He added steaming water to the tub and stepped in. Her scent surrounded him.
Instantly, desire roared like a conflagration. He gripped the sides of the tub. Control, he thought. He had to keep his lust contained.
Nicola. He inhaled. Surely his bride had no skills like those plied by the women at Eugenie's. He'd never lost control with them, not even when they'd assumed the most interesting positions and pleasured him in many ways.
He rose from the tub and briskly rubbed his body dry. His bride would be abed. He reached for his robe and couldn't push from his mind an image of his bride dressed in a diaphanous gown worshipping his body with her hands and his mouth. He tied his dressing gown and walked to the door of her bedchamber.
In the doorway, he paused and looked toward the bed. She wasn't there. His bride sat in one of the chairs near the fireplace. She turned the pages of a book. Doubt circled his thoughts. From other men, he'd heard how their virgin brides had cowered in a near dark room with the covers pulled to their chins and a frightened expression in their eyes. What did his bride's actions mean?
His thoughts bounced from moments when Nicola's shy glances and startled stares had clearly shown her virgin state to the times she had responded to him with eagerness. Which woman would be his tonight? No matter, he decided. Tonight, she would be his and he had no intention of allowing her to discover how close he was to losing control of his emotions and his heart.
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