Midnight Bride

by Marlene Suson

  “Patience, my sweet, and I will show you. Trust me, it will be better that way. First, though, you must get into bed.”

  “Are we going to tumble now?”

  “Rachel, do you know what will happen when we tumble?”

  “Yes. We will roil around on the bed in each other’s arms.” She thought it must be something like when she and her brother George had wrestled as children. She could never quite understand why people seemed to think it was so enjoyable, yet were so unwilling to talk about it.

  Jerome’s eyes were a brilliant, shimmering blue now. “What else happens?”

  “Oh, is there more?”

  A strangled groan escaped him, and he said, “Please, get into bed. And make some room for me.”

  She did as he bid her, sliding over toward the wall to give him space. When she turned back to look at him, he had shed his breeches and was already pulling the covers over both of them.

  “Should we extinguish the candles?” she asked.

  “No, I want to be able to see you while we—er, tumble.”

  That seemed sensible enough, and Rachel made no protest.

  Then instead of grabbing her and rolling around the bed as she had expected him to do, he drew her against his side, cuddling her in the protection of his arm.

  Then he kissed her, a long kiss, full of tenderness and passion, that left her breathless and clinging to him.

  She smiled at him, saying shyly, “I like this much better than tumbling.”

  He looked amused. “Do you now?” His voice took on a rich, husky timbre. “Let me see what else you like.”

  His mouth, his tongue, and his hands began a new assault on her that left her gasping and writhing beneath his touch.

  Then one long, lean finger suddenly slid into the dark triangle at the apex of her legs where the moisture she had felt earlier was now gushing like some previously unknown spring.

  Mortified to have him discover this inexplicable phenomenon, she clamped her legs together and cried in alarm and embarrassment, “No!”

  “You will like what I do, I promise you, Rachel.”

  “You do not understand,” she cried, feeling her face flame. “The strangest thing has happened to me there. I am all... all…” She was too ashamed to finish.

  “Wet,” he finished for her. “And that delights me.”

  She looked at him with wide, shocked eyes. “Why?”

  “Because it is your body’s way of saying that you want me. It is quite as normal as my ‘swelling’ that you noticed earlier. That is how my body shows that it wants you. Now, my sweet temptation, let me feel the proof of your desire for me as you have seen the proof of mine for you.”

  Rachel thrilled at his words. He desired her. At last he must have realized how right they were together and had decided that he wanted to marry her.

  Before she could say anything, however, his clever fingers took advantage of her momentary confusion to steal into the heart of that strange spring between her legs. Gently, he caressed a mysterious spot there that sent a lightning flash of pleasure through her, and all rational thought fled from her mind. As he teased and probed and tormented, the spring gushed again.

  He whispered, “Your body is telling me that you are ready for me.”

  Ready for him how? she wondered, too bemused by the strange sensations rocking her to ask aloud. Her breath was coming in quick pants and a strange heat suffused her body.

  As though reading her thoughts, he said gently, “I’ll show you.”

  He raised and braced himself over her. She felt something hard begin to slide into the slick passage between her legs.

  She did not know how or why, but some primordial intuition told her this would ease the wild ache within her and she quelled her instinctive reaction to try to close herself to him.

  He pushed a little farther, stopped then tried again, and halted against some internal barrier within her. His face was clenched with strain and sweat beaded on his forehead.

  “I told you I would not hurt you tonight, my sweet temptation, but I am afraid we have reached the point where I must do so if I am to ruin you. It is the only way. But it is your choice. Do you want me to continue?”

  “Yes,” she gasped, awash in violent sensations.

  “Are you certain?” he asked urgently. “We can stop now.”

  “I am certain.”

  “Thank God,” he groaned and plunged deeply into her. Hot agony gripped her, wringing a cry of pain and protest from her.

  Her eyes flew open and she stared up at his face. He looked as though he were hurting, too. “I am sorry, so sorry my sweet, but there is no other way,” he murmured soothingly, holding himself very still within her and bathing her face with light, consoling kisses.

  Just as she thought her body had adjusted to his invasion, he began to move inside her, slowly at first then more quickly, renewing the pain. His breathing grew short and harsh.

  She said in a tight voice, “I think we should stop now.”

  He groaned as though he were in as much pain as she was. “I am sorry but it is too late to tell me that now.”

  Then, after a minute, she began to forget her discomfort in the building excitement within her. Suddenly she was moving in rhythm with him, and she felt herself soaring to the brink of some great precipice.

  She looked at him and saw that he was watching her intently, strain etched on his face.

  Suddenly her body seemed to explode with sensation. Intense spasms shook her, generating a pleasure she could never have imagined, and she cried out in wonder and delight.

  Jerome stiffened, and to her amazement, his body, too, was rocked by repeated, convulsive tremors. With an exultant cry, he collapsed atop her, his breath coming in short, heavy pants. He held her tightly, their bodies still joined.

  Rachel felt as though she were floating on a mystical pool of bliss and wonder and contentment.

  Later, well after his breathing had returned to normal, he rolled on his side and, with a mischievous grin that set her pulse racing, inquired, “So, now that you have been tumbled, how do you like it?”

  “That is tumbling?” she exclaimed. “it was not at all like I imagined it would be.”

  “Was it better or worse?”

  “Oh, better,” she cried. “Infinitely better.” He laughed and pulled her into his arms, holding her protectively against him.

  She loved the feel of his body against hers, and she began to run her hands over it, exploring it as he had explored hers. She was so much in love with him that she could not help showering him with exuberant kisses,

  “Careful or you shall have me so aroused I will have to tumble you again.”

  “Really,” she cried, eager to experience that ecstasy once more. “You mean we can do it again?”

  “Aye.”

  “Soon?” she asked hopefully.

  “Considerably sooner, my sweet temptation, than I would have thought possible.”

  They had not closed the curtains in the bedchamber, and Jerome awoke to light pouring through the windows. He looked down at the beautiful woman asleep on the pillow beside him.

  He had made love repeatedly to her during the long night, unable to get enough of her. And she had answered him with her own intense passion that was all the more exciting for being innocent and untutored.

  Then he remembered how he had come to be in this bed, and his feelings of tenderness for her vanished. She had drugged and humiliated him, abducted him and enticed him until he was out of his mind with wanting her, and then she had begged him to ruin her.

  Jerome doubted any man could have withstood such a seductive assault. Certainly, he had not. He had been so wild for her that he had managed to forget every principle he possessed.

  He had never before taken a girl’s innocence. He had only contempt for men who did so without marriage. Now he was one of that company. He was racked by disgust for himself and anger at the sleeping woman beside him who had driven him beyond sani
ty

  She had given her word last night that she would not insist Jerome had promised her marriage, but, of course, she would lie about it now and say that he had.

  Well, he would be damned if he would let her trap him into marriage. Not even the ecstasy of their lovemaking would change his stubborn determination not to wed her. He would not reward her outrageous behaviour by giving her what she wanted.

  Chapter 16

  Rachel awoke, aglow with the memory of the wonderful night she had shared with Jerome. He had forgotten his anger at her for abducting him, and he had made such tender, passionate love to her that she knew he would want to marry her now.

  Belatedly she realized that his warmth was no longer against her. With her eyes still closed, she reached out to touch him, hoping that he would gather her in his arms and hold her against the comforting warmth of his body.

  But he was not there.

  Her eyes flew open. The bed was empty and she looked around the room. He stood by the window, dressed only in his breeches, staring grimly outside. Apparently sensing she had awakened, he turned toward her.

  She smiled at him.

  He did not return it. His face was grim, his hard jaw jutting stubbornly. “You must be very pleased with yourself this morning.”

  Rachel stared at him in dismay, a sudden icy numbness creeping through her. What had happened to the tender, caring lover of the night before?

  He had vanished as though he had never existed. Her happiness burst like a shattering vase, leaving only painful shards of memory to cut at her.

  “You had better get dressed.” The coldness of his voice chilled Rachel. “In view of the note you left about our eloping, we could have visitors at any time.”

  He picked up his lawn shirt and put it on. As he was buttoning it, he glanced at her still lying in the bed, the covers pulled up about her chin.

  “Get dressed, damn it, or do you want to be found as naked as the day you were born?” His gaze raked her scornfully. “Believe me, that is not necessary to assure your relatives that I have ruined you. All the proof required is on the sheets.”

  Rachel had no idea what he was talking about. He continued to watch her, and she could not bear the thought of exposing herself to his icy eyes. She said in a small, embarrassed voice, “Please turn your head, so I can get up.”

  His eyes narrowed angrily. “Such belated modesty, my dear. After last night, there is not an inch of you that I do not know intimately.”

  But last night had been different. Then he had been warm and tender and teasing. Now he was a contemptuous stranger, and it was beyond her command to subject herself to his cold, hating gaze. “Please,” she said miserably, staring down at the covers.

  He uttered a sharp expletive and stalked out of the room, saying as he went, “You have five minutes.”

  Hastily, she got out of bed and pulled on her discarded clothing as fast as she could. Remembering what he had said about proof of ruining her, she looked down at the sheet. It was badly rumpled and stained with a patch of blood.

  When he came back in the room, she gestured toward the blotch. “Is that what you meant by proof of ruining me?”

  “Aye. But you need not worry that I will attempt to deny what I have done.” His eyes narrowed, and his voice took on a bitter edge. “I imagine it is too much to hope that you will be equally honest.”

  Once again, she had no idea what he was talking about. “What do you mean?”

  “Will you admit to your relatives that I told you from the beginning that I would not marry you?

  She fought back tears. “I... I hoped you had changed your mind.”

  “I am certain that you did, but our so-called elopement has served only to make me more certain than ever that I would never marry you.”

  Rachel felt as though he had slapped her hard across the face. She looked hastily away from him, not wanting him to see the sudden sheen that misted her eyes. She had gambled her future on winning him, and she had lost.

  He said bitterly, “I told you that I would not marry you, but no doubt you will lie and say that I promised you that I would.”

  “No!” she cried, in a broken voice. “I will not!”

  He shrugged on his riding coat. “Then we had better return to Wingate Hall and pay the piper.”

  She looked at him uneasily, remembering Gentleman Jack had admonished her that she must never tell anyone she had kidnapped the duke. “I... I will not lie, but I would prefer not to tell anyone that I abducted you.”

  He looked relieved. “I would prefer that, too. It will enhance neither of our reputations. I will go along with whatever story you wish to tell so long as you do not claim I offered to marry you. Nor can you mention Gentleman Jack. It would go hard with you if it is learned you have been consorting with an outlaw.”

  Rachel had not considered it before, but that was true.

  He held out the coat of her violet riding habit for her to put on. “Come, let us be on our way.”

  “Will—will they not think it odd if we return so soon?”

  “You can tell them that you had second thoughts when I continued to refuse to marry you.”

  She stared at Jerome’s hard, unsmiling face and, swallowing hard, asked, “Did our night together mean nothing to you?”

  “Only that you are an excellent tumble. I liked it well enough to want you in my bed again,” he said carelessly. “I will not marry you, but I might be persuaded to make you my mistress.”

  He might as well have stuck a bayonet through Rachel’s heart. It was not enough that he did not want her, but he had to add to her shame by issuing that insulting proposition.

  She managed to say with quiet dignity “You have humiliated me, Your Grace.”

  “Then we are even,” he snapped.

  Jerome had thought Alfred would be the angriest of the Wingates over his niece’s “elopement,” but instead it was Sophia. Her ire, however, was not directed at Jerome. It was focused entirely on Rachel.

  “How could you do this to us?” Sophia screamed. “You are a humiliation to the Wingate name! You have ruined yourself, and you have thrown away the opportunity of a lifetime to be Lord Felix’s wife. He left a half-hour ago, saying he would not have you now.”

  Jerome’s eyes narrowed. That meant Felix would not be paying Sophia the sum he had promised her. Was that why the greedy bitch was so enraged?

  Rachel said defiantly, “I told you, Aunt Sophia, that I would never marry Felix.”

  Her Uncle Alfred broke in, “Did the duke promise you marriage, Rachel?”

  Jerome held his breath. This was the moment when Rachel would reveal her true colours. Despite her protestations to him that she would not lie, he could not believe that she would do anything else.

  “No, he did not.” Her voice was firm, but Jerome saw the faint tremble of her chin that betrayed how hurt she was. “He was adamant that he would never do so.”

  Alfred asked her, “Did he steal your virtue?”

  “No.”

  Jerome’s eyes widened. Did she mean to deny that they had slept together in a desperate, vain attempt to save herself from ruin?

  “Are you certain?”

  “Very certain. He did not steal it. I gave it to him.” Rachel held her head proudly, defiantly, but Jerome saw the two bright spots of shame in her cheeks. “Indeed, I begged him to take it.”

  That was more truth than even Jerome had wanted. What a courageous woman Rachel was. His admiration for her soared, but he would be damned if he would condemn himself to a marriage spent wondering who his wife’s lovers were. And while his heart ached for her, his fierce pride rebelled at rewarding her crackbrained abduction of him by giving her what she wanted.

  “You shameless slut!” Sophia screamed at Rachel. The slur infuriated Jerome, especially coming from a wanton like Sophia. He glared at her. “There is only one slut in the Wingate family, and I am looking at her.”

  A shocked silence descended on the room. Then Sop
hia demanded, “What are we to do with her now that you’ve ruined her?”

  Jerome stood up. “I will be happy to take her off your hands, but I will not marry her.”

  Rachel flushed and her eyes were suddenly violet fire. “I will never be your mistress.”

  Jerome would not let her know how much he wanted her. He would not give any woman that power over him. Instead he shrugged. “I am leaving in an hour. If you change your mind before then, let me know.”

  After a bath and shave, Jerome put on fresh riding clothes. His plan was to depart in his travelling coach. Once he was out of sight of Wingate, he would mount Lightning and send his coach on to the White Swan while he and Ferris rode to the lodge in the hope Morgan would have returned to his hideaway. After what this journey to Yorkshire had cost Jerome, he was not going to leave without seeing his brother.

  Nor, he realized with aching dismay, did he want to leave Rachel behind at Wingate Hall. But he knew now that she would not go with him unless he married her.

  Jerome remembered that he had left his copy of Ashcott’s Philosophy in Wingate Hall’s library the previous evening, and he went downstairs to retrieve it. He found Sir Waldo Fletcher in the hall, hovering near a tray of food that had been left on a pier table there.

  “What are you doing?” Jerome demanded.

  “I am here to see Mrs. Wingate.”

  “I doubt that she is receiving visitors.”

  “So I was told, but I am certain she will want to see me.”

  Kerlan, the butler, came down the stairs. “Mrs. Wingate sends her apologies, but she is not well enough to see even you.”

  At that moment, a skinny, teen-aged chambermaid came rushing down the hall and handed Sir Waldo a cloth. He used it to wipe a minute spot of mud from his gleaming top boots, then handed it back to the girl without so much as a thank you, and departed.

  Jerome went into the library to retrieve his book. As he came back into the hall with it in hand, Kerlan was demanding angrily, ‘Tillie, is this Lady Rachel’s breakfast tray? You were told ten minutes ago to take it up to her.”

  “Me was on me way when the gent what was just here sent me to find a cloth t’ clean him boots. Me told him me was taking the tray up t’ her, but him insisted me get the cloth first.”