They rode in a private carriage Tony had rented from a stable in Harrogate to take them to Gretna Green. This was the second day of his marriage and in an hour he would have to face his new papa-in-law, who would doubtless want to strangle him. But he had to return. It was the right thing to do. There was no choice. Besides he’d written to the duke that he would return to discuss the marriage settlement and to make amends as best he could.
He smiled at his bride’s altogether lovely profile and didn’t question that he wanted her very much, right this instant. He had but to touch her hand and he wanted her. He had but to hear her voice from another room and he wanted her. He had but to see her flushed with anger and yelling at him and he wanted her. Having her so close to him was more than he could bear.
He turned and said, “Take off your pelisse.”
Melissande was in the throes of guilt, embarrassment, fury with her new husband for treating her with no consideration at all—he’d actually thrown the hairbrush back at her! “What did you say?”
“I said to take off your pelisse.”
“I’m not at all too warm.”
“Good.”
She frowned at him, then unbuttoned the pelisse. He helped her remove it, tossing it to the other seat. He lightly touched his fingertips to her chin, caressing her, holding her head steady. He kissed her, lightly, not parting his own lips on hers.
“Tony!”
“Hush. Now, dear one, remove your bonnet. I can’t kiss you properly with that nonsense on your head. Also it flattens your beautiful hair. Black as the most sinful night, your hair. I want to feel it cascading through my fingers.”
Since his order also contained a very nice compliment, Melissande, mollified, removed her bonnet, tossing it atop her pelisse.
“Now,” Tony said. His long fingers began on the long line of buttons that marched up the front of her gown. She gasped and slapped at his hand. “We’re in a carriage, Tony! It is in the middle of the day! Goodness, you must stop, you can’t do that, you—”
He kissed her again, pulling her onto his lap. His right hand was beneath the hem of her gown, moving up her leg, higher and higher until he touched the bare soft flesh of her inner thighs. She was squirming on his lap, and he knew it was from embarrassment, not coyness. It didn’t matter. He wanted her and he fully intended to take her, right here, in the carriage, with her sitting on his lap, facing him, and he would come deep inside her. He nearly moaned aloud with the thought.
She continued to struggle and he said into her mouth, “You will be quiet now. You are my wife, Melissande, and you will learn, very soon now, that you will obey me. I want you and I intend to have you. I haven’t taken you since last night because you were a virgin and thus sore from that plowing. But you have had time to recover. I will go easily with you. I want to see your breasts, to fondle them, to taste them with my tongue. You will leave your gown on and I will come into you after you’ve lifted your skirts.”
She stared at him in disbelief, so adrift in uncharted seas that she could find nothing to say. The previous evening, she’d felt wicked, truth be told, because of what they’d done. She had shown the damned Earl of Northcliffe that she wouldn’t be ordered about by either him or her father. Tony was lovely; he was gallant; he teased her mercilessly, making her want more. He fascinated her. He was like quicksilver. She’d quickly recognized the strength in him, the male stubbornness, the arrogance that was bred in him, but she’d never doubted that she could handle him. After all, she’d handled every other gentleman who’d chanced to swim into her ken.
He’d introduced her to sex in a very polished way. She recognized, vaguely, that he was immensely experienced but she was unable to appreciate his finesse. She found the entire procedure horribly embarrassing, and the darkness she’d begged for hadn’t slowed him down a bit. He hadn’t hurt her overly much. As for any pleasure from coupling, she sincerely doubted that such a thing existed. She knew that all she enjoyed was compliments and kissing and his wicked smiles, and perhaps the tip of his tongue lightly touching her ear.
And now he wanted to stick that man-thing of his up into her whilst she sat on his lap, fully gowned yet naked whilst he had his way with her, and all in a moving carriage!
“No,” she said very firmly. “I shan’t do that.”
Tony merely smiled, and thrust his fingers upward until they were pressed against her woman’s flesh. She paled then yowled. His right hand busily worked on the buttons over her breasts. She slapped at him, until finally he said in his sternest voice, “You are my wife. How many times must I remind you, Melissande? I know you received little or no pleasure last night. You were a virgin and that is why. You bled and that pleased me. However, I intend to rectify that now. You will accept pleasure from me. You will hold still and stop playing the outraged maiden.”
But she didn’t stop struggling, even when she felt one of his long fingers slide upward into her. She yelled, and he kissed her, hoping the carriage driver hadn’t heard her.
“A delightful virgin, a beauty, and a spoiled handful,” he said, his breath warm on her mouth. “That’s what I married. I’m not complaining, don’t misunderstand me. I had an excellent idea of your character before I ever nibbled that sweet spot just behind your left ear. But I will beat you, you know.”
“You wouldn’t! No, I shan’t allow such a thing! Stop, damn you! Stop doing that!”
“Oh yes, I will beat you,” he said as his thumb found her flesh and he began to fondle her. “And I have no intention of stopping. You will see that I shall do whatever I wish to with you.” She was undoubtedly beautiful, absolutely exquisite, even with her eyes near to crossing in rage, and truth be told, glazed in utter incomprehension, for she’d never encountered his like before. She tried to jerk away from him. He merely removed his hand, pulled up her gown, her petticoats, and her shift, then bent her back so that she was lying across his lap against his arm. She was wearing her black leather slippers and stockings that were just above her knees, held there with black garters. From there on, she was naked to her waist, and he looked down at her and smiled.
“Very nice,” he said only and splayed his fingers over her white belly. “Very nice indeed. I fancy I’ll keep you. Were you a trout I wouldn’t toss you back into the water. No, indeed.”
“You cannot do this, Tony! My father will challenge you to a duel, he will cut your ears off, he will—I’m not a damned fish!”
“Dearest wife, your father wouldn’t dream of telling me, your legal husband, master, owner, and lord, not to give you pleasure. And that is what I will do if you would simply close your quite lovely mouth and attend my fingers.”
She opened her mouth to yell again at him, then realized the driver would probably hear her. She felt sunk with embarrassment, so mortified she held herself quiet until his fingers began to caress her in that very private place he’d touched the previous night. She hadn’t protested much then for she’d still been feeling wicked, and it was dark in the bedchamber, and truth be told, she’d felt very powerful—ah, she’d eloped to Gretna Green!—so she hadn’t fully realized . . . simply hadn’t known that he would want . . . but now, now it was different. It wasn’t black as pitch. It was daylight. They were in a carriage. He had actually looked at her, spoken easily as he’d looked, and she’d been naked and he’d touched her belly and other lower parts. It wasn’t to be borne. Suddenly, she felt a deep piercing sensation that made her hips jerk upward against his fingers.
She stared up at him, not understanding, and saw that the damned sod was smiling at her, a knowing smile, a master’s smile, so smug and satisfied that it was more than she could stand. She threw back her head and screamed at the top of her lungs.
The carriage jerked to a sudden halt.
Tony’s smile didn’t slip. He eased her up, helped her straighten her clothes, and waited for their coachman to appear at the window, which he did almost immediately. His eyes went at once to Melissande, and she realized that he must
know what her husband had been attempting to do to her.
“Go away!” she yelled at the hapless man. “Ah, just go away!”
“Yes,” Tony said easily, sitting back against the squabs, his arms folded over his chest. “Forgive my wife for disturbing you. Sometimes ladies, well, they forget themselves . . . you understand.”
The coachman was very afraid he did understand, and, flushing, hurried to climb back to his perch. The carriage jerked forward.
Tony was quiet.
Melissande arranged herself with quick clumsy movements, so furious and embarrassed and disconcerted she wanted to shriek at him until she was hoarse. But it was difficult with him just sitting there, looking out the windows, saying nothing, looking bored. Bored!
She smashed her bonnet back onto her head, not caring that her lovely coiffure would suffer irreparable damage from her show of rage. She pulled on her pelisse and refastened the buttons, putting the wrong ones in the wrong holes and not caring.
He looked at her then and the smile was still on his lips. “You know, Mellie—”
“Mellie! What a horrid nickname! I hate it, it is perfectly dreadful and I—”
“Shut up, my dear.”
“But, I—” She saw something in his eyes that she’d never encountered before in her twenty-one years. She closed her mouth and turned away, momentarily routed.
“As I was saying, Mellie, for you I betrayed my cousin. However, it isn’t the sort of betrayal that destroys the soul. You don’t really know Douglas nor does he know you. Lord, were he to have seen your games during the past few days, he would have been utterly disillusioned. He probably would have snuck out in the dark of night to escape you. He wouldn’t have taken you to Gretna Green. Indeed, three years ago, I doubt you even saw him beyond a handsome man who praised your immense beauty. He left you because of his honor, because he felt he had to place his duty above matters of the heart. I will tell you truthfully, my dear, he doesn’t love you. He remembered that he had desired you, had admired you, had laughed and been entranced by your carelessness, your seeming guilelessness. He remembered your beauty, nothing more.
“But he doesn’t love you nor did he then. His family has been ruthless in their attempts to get him wedded so that there will be a Sherbrooke heir within the year. He saw you as a way to batten down his family, to wed himself to a beautiful creature, and save himself from having to travel to London to see the crop of available debutantes.
“Even as I knew I would have you, I was thinking of all the pros and cons of what I was doing. One thing I’m quite certain of though, Douglas will come to realize what a favor I did for him by removing you from the scene. One day he will thank me. You would have driven him mad, utterly mad.” Tony now turned to his wife. He was looking very serious. “He is much more the gentleman than I am, you know. He would never have beaten you, no matter the provocation. He would have withdrawn from you, not at all what would bring you into line.”
She said slowly, “I don’t believe you. Douglas Sherbrooke does love me. He loved me then, he loved me for three years, and he still loves me. He will mourn me the rest of his life. I will be his lost love. Aye, I have broken his heart by wedding you. He will hate you forever for what you have done. He will never forgive you.”
Tony said quietly, “I hope it will not be so. I believe that only Douglas’s pride will be a bit bruised. Then he will recover with alacrity when he sees what I must do to keep you under control. He will pump my hand in his gratitude. He will blubber all over me with thankfulness.”
Melissande looked down at her gloved hands. “You speak as though you do not hold me in esteem. You speak as though I am not a person to be admired or loved. You speak as though you took me away only to save your cousin. I thought you adored me, wanted me desperately.”
“Ah, that is true enough. Understand, just because I adore and want you doesn’t mean that I am blind to your character. However, it isn’t at all to the point. You see, what I have done demands retribution. I owe Douglas payment, of sorts, so that he won’t have to start again at the beginning in his quest for a wife. Indeed, in my letter to your father I hinted as much.”
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t believe I will tell you, Mellie, not yet, because I have yet to be certain whether my notions are accurate.” He gave her a crooked smile. “You see, I was thinking too much about you, about having you naked beneath me, to keep an excellent mental accounting of what I hoped would be true. Well, hopefully your father will have determined the accuracy by the time we return to Claybourn. Now, my dear, your bonnet looks quite dowdy. I suggest you endeavor to make yourself look a bit more charming, for we are nearing Claybourn.”
He’d silenced her questions for the moment by appealing to her vanity. He watched her pull a small mirror from her reticule. She was efficient in her efforts, from long practice. She was so beautiful it made him shake. Her body was undoubtedly lovely—at least the parts he’d just managed to uncover and see and touch. He’d wanted to see her face when he took her virginity the previous night, but she’d been so frightened, so embarrassed, that he hadn’t the heart to insist upon the lamp being lit. But what really shook him and surprised him as well was that no woman had ever affected him as she had. He had also known instantly that she was utterly impossible, spoiled, vain, as arrogant as he was, but it hadn’t mattered. He’d wanted her. Despite Douglas, despite everything, he’d wanted her and he’d taken her.
Now the trick would be to live with her.
Another trick would be to bring her pleasure. The thought of a frigid wife was intolerable. It was nauseating.
The most important trick would be to pay Douglas back.
Odd, Tony thought, as the carriage bowled onto the long narrow drive of Claybourn Hall, but he hadn’t given Teresa, his perfidious former betrothed, a thought since he’d met Melissande. He looked at his wife, saw that she was pale and that she was wringing her hands.
He rather hoped her father would yell at her. Then he, Tony, would step in. He was her protector, her master, her husband. Then, he prayed, he and the duke would come to another agreement.
Boulogne, France
Douglas won the piquet match. He hadn’t even had to cheat. Belesain had been so drunk by the end of it, Douglas doubted he’d minded losing very much because as the winner he would have had to perform sexually, a feat he probably couldn’t have managed. He’d given Douglas a key and told him to explain to the lovely wench he found in the small room that he was here to be pleasured. He said the wench loved threats and a bit of pain. Then, the bloody drunk fool had decided to accompany him. “Because,” he said as they climbed the stairs to the third floor, “she isn’t exactly trained fully as yet.” Douglas watched him unlock the door and stride inside.
He followed, saying nothing. It was a spare room, with only a bed and dresser and a single circular rug in the middle. There was only one occupant, a single woman standing in the middle of the room. Was this Janine Daudet? The general grinned drunkenly at her and said with a flip of his hand, “Strip off those clothes.”
The woman hesitated, then complied. He’d expected someone younger, though why he should have he didn’t know. No, she wasn’t really a girl, Douglas thought, looking at her more closely, but rather a woman in her mid-twenties. She was obviously scared and she was lovely, despite her pallor, the shadows beneath her very dark eyes, and her thinness.
Belesain waited silently until she’d stripped to her shift. Then he lurched to her, grabbed her chin painfully in his fingers and kissed her, fondling her breasts with his other hand through the thin lawn. Then, suddenly, he grabbed the front of her shift and ripped it off her. He laughed, saying over his shoulder to Douglas, “I wanted to see if you approved of her. Nice, eh? A bit thin for my taste, but her tits are nice.” He pushed her back onto the bed, leaned over her, and said low, “You see this man, my girl? You do everything he wants you to do or . . . you know the punishment, don’t you? I would like
to remain and watch, but I am sorely tired.” He straightened and turned to Douglas. “You are quiet. Don’t you think she is lovely? Not a virgin, but not overused either. She belongs to me, and now, because she isn’t stupid, she obeys my every command. Now you may enjoy her, but just for tonight.”
He lurched out of the room. Douglas moved after him and listened as his footsteps receded down the corridor and then down the stairs. He listened to another door open and close on the second floor. Then he turned back to face the woman.
She was standing now by the bed, trying to cover herself with her hands. Douglas couldn’t believe his good fortune but he wasn’t about to doubt it, not for a moment.
His voice was urgent as he strode to her. “Is your name Janine Daudet?”
She was small, very fair, her hair falling straight down her back nearly to her waist. She had light blue eyes, very blond brows and lashes, and she was lovely.
“Are you?”
She nodded, taking a step back.
“Don’t be afraid of me. I’m here on behalf of Georges Cadoudal.”
Douglas wasn’t able to keep his eyes on her face. He hadn’t had a woman in a while. His body was responding with deplorable enthusiasm. “Do you know Georges Cadoudal?”
She nodded, still obviously afraid of him, not believing him for a moment, despite the flare of hope he’d seen.
“I wish you to dress, quickly. I am here to take you away, to Georges. We must hurry.”
“I don’t have any gowns.”
Douglas looked around. “A cloak, anything. Come, we must hurry.”
The Sherbrooke Series Novels 1-5 Page 6