He would marry these two disparate people. When Ryder Sherbrooke had told him with a smile that he also wanted him to accept Kimberly Hall hospitality until the following afternoon, he readily agreed. He knew all about Sophia Stanton-Greville’s reputation and that Sherman Cole wanted to arrest her very badly, for what reason he imagined he already knew. Human failings were, after all, his primary business. However, he wasn’t a stupid man nor an unkind one, and curiosity wasn’t necessarily a good thing. In this instance, he didn’t really want to know all the ins and outs.
Everyone arranged themselves. Mr. Mathers had a remarkably deep voice, mellifluous and soothing, perhaps more so than usual because of the three glasses of rum punch he’d drunk at dinner. Soon, he was near the end of the brief ceremony. He was relieved that the young lady hadn’t fainted. She was very pale, her eyes dark and blank, and her responses were barely above a whisper. As for Ryder Sherbrooke, the young man looked every inch the English aristocrat. He stood tall and straight; his voice was strong and steady. If he felt the same terror his bride felt, he was hiding it very well.
Ryder was wondering what Sophie was thinking. He knew well enough that she hadn’t wanted to marry him. It was only the thought of being hung that had turned the tide. Not a very enlivening judgment for the groom. He doubted now that even if she’d believed she was pregnant with his child, she would have accepted him. Well, it would soon be done. He realized with something of a shock that he wanted it to be done. He wanted her as his wife. He wanted her safe, her and Jeremy.
He squeezed her hand when she whispered a very faint, “I do.” Her refusal, his thinking continued as he looked down at her, must denote some sort of honor, some sort of honesty. Nor did she seem to want him, but that made sense to him given her experiences. He would soon change her mind about that. He wasn’t a clod and she would be his wife. He thought of all the women he’d enjoyed since he’d come to manhood, how he’d pleasured them and teased them and laughed with them. And now, he must tie himself to the one woman who didn’t want him. She was marrying him because she had no choice. At least they were even on that, he thought. He would never have considered marriage with her, despite the fact that she did, on occasion, give as good as she got. No, his honor demanded it, nothing more.
Sophie was pleased that she’d gotten her response out of her mouth. However, she was disgusted that she had sounded like a bleating goat, but the truth of the matter was, even though he was saving her, and she was well aware of what he was saving her from, he scared her to death.
Once he had her as his wife, he would be free to do anything he pleased with her. She knew that; her uncle had told her that often enough. She didn’t believe he would beat her, no, Ryder wasn’t that kind of man. What scared her was having him take her body, have it as his right, however and whenever he pleased. On the other hand, he’d already had her, and thus he’d seen her body, just as she’d seen his. Surely he hadn’t hurt her. She’d felt nothing the next morning, not a bit of pain or discomfort. No, he hadn’t hurt her.
And it would just be for one night.
She was scared. She fingered the soft muslin gown Coco had sewn for her throughout the afternoon. It was lovely and it was snowy white. That made her smile. “You’ll look like a virgin sacrifice,” he’d said when she’d shown him the nearly completed gown.
She wished the vicar would just be done with it. She felt sick to her stomach. She was terrified, not only of Ryder, but of Sherman Cole. She wondered if she and Jeremy truly would be aboard the ship tomorrow and be safe, once and for all.
She remembered when Ryder had come to fetch her for dinner. He’d come into the room, all elegant and handsome as the devil’s right hand, and he’d just smiled at her.
“You’re beautiful, you know that?”
She merely shrugged. “Passable, I would say.”
“No, beautiful. Are you ready? The vicar is here. We’ll have dinner first, then the ceremony. I’m sorry about you not having anyone from Camille Hall, but we can’t risk it.”
“You don’t have to do this, Ryder.”
“Be quiet,” he said quite pleasantly, offered her his arm, and walked beside her down the wide staircase.
Ryder felt her quiver when he said his vows. “Don’t,” Ryder said quietly. “Don’t stiffen up on me. Trust me, Sophie. It will be over soon and then nothing bad will ever touch you again.”
She didn’t believe him but it didn’t seem to be the thing to say to him now that he would be her husband. She saw Jeremy smiling just like he’d been offered the world. Ryder had won him over with an ease that astounded her.
It was over. There were congratulations. Samuel looked delighted and immensely relieved. Then he turned to Sophie, hugged her against him, and said quietly, “It will be fine for you now, my dear. I have always believed that things happen for a reason. You and Jeremy were meant to leave Jamaica and return to England. You will trust your new husband. Once he realizes the right way, he embraces it without hesitation. Yes, Sophia, trust him, for he’s a very good man.”
She looked over at her new husband. He was hugging Jeremy against him and the boy was chattering faster than a magpie and Ryder was laughing and nodding.
Suddenly, without warning, all the happy chatter began to die away. Ryder looked up to see Sherman Cole standing in the doorway of the salon.
Sophie wanted to sink into the mangrove swamp. She didn’t move. She watched Ryder stride over to Cole.
“What a pleasure, Mr. Cole. However, you weren’t invited. What do you want now?”
Sherman Cole looked around the room. He stared at Sophie, standing there like a pale statue, in her wedding gown, her white wedding gown. He saw Samuel standing there beside her, her arm in his, and he said, “Good God, you think to protect the little slut by marrying her off? Has that fool Grayson really married her? He actually married the little tart?”
Ryder sighed. “Did I not warn you before? You are slow of wit, sir, and an unspeakable embarrassment.”
“But he can’t be married to her! Look here, Samuel, it will make no difference! She murdered her poor uncle. I will come for her tomorrow, once we’ve examined Burgess’s body. You will have only one night with her, no more, so be certain you enjoy it! And then it will be my turn, that is to say, I will see that justice is well done and—”
Ryder hit him cleanly in the jaw. Sherman Cole went down in a graceless heap. Ryder grabbed the man beneath his arms and heaved and tugged until he’d managed to drag him behind a chair. His legs still stuck out. He pulled the chair out a bit more and shoved Cole completely behind it. Then he moved the chair back in place. He looked over at Sophie, grinned, and rubbed his hands together.
“That was fun,” he said when he rejoined her. “Emile, when he rouses himself, why don’t you see him back to Montego Bay. I like the notion that he believes Sophie is married to your father. He will remain unworried and quite pleased with himself.”
“Now,” Samuel said, “let us go into the dining room. I want to toast both of you with that champagne James unearthed for you.”
She remained still and pale. Ryder frowned down at her. “Stop it,” he said, and when she didn’t, he pulled her against him and kissed her. Not hard, but very lightly, his mouth barely touching hers, gently pressing, but not demanding. Then he said into her mouth, “I am your husband. I will protect you. Cole won’t touch you.”
She was afraid. She didn’t move. When he finally released her, he wasn’t frowning, but he still looked thoughtful. She hadn’t kissed him back, but then again, she’d just had another unpleasant shock.
“You know something, Sophie, I did indeed protect you this time. On the other hand, to be completely honest, I wanted very much to hit him, so I can’t be certain that my motives were all that pure. But let’s be kind and assume they were. Now, can I believe that you would likewise protect me?”
“I already did.”
He grinned at her. “Yes, you were a marvel. Will you continue t
o be my Amazon? Will you continue to protect me?”
“You aren’t Jeremy.”
“No, I’m not. I’m your husband and, in the future scheme of things, I’m more important.”
“Yes,” she said on a sigh. “I will protect you, Ryder.”
“Good.”
Ryder looked back over his shoulder once. He saw Cole’s feet sticking out from beneath the chair. What the devil had the man wanted? It was a long ride to and from Montego Bay. Had he merely come to gloat? To terrify Sophie? To try to intimidate the rest of them?
Ryder forgot Cole. Tonight he would have her. Very soon now. No more than three more hours and he would have her naked and in his arms and in his bed. He would have to sate himself on her to make up for the weeks they would be separated.
He was humming as he walked beside her into the dining room. He seated Sophie on his right hand then took the master’s chair. He lifted her hand and kissed her fingers. She didn’t move.
“Emile will take Cole away,” he said. “Perhaps he’ll find out how and what Cole found out and why he came here tonight.”
“I wish I could have hit him,” she said.
He was pleased. “Would you really? Well, perhaps I can find him again and bring him back to you. Show me your fist.”
She did and he neatly tucked her thumb under. “Whenever you hit someone, don’t let your thumb stick out. You could get it broken. That’s it.”
“You bruised your knuckles.”
“Ah, but don’t you see? One must weigh the bruises against the fun of it. Now, my dear, you’re a new bride. Raise your glass and lightly touch it to mine. Yes, that’s right. Now smile. Good.”
She sipped the champagne. It was wonderful, cool and tart.
She took another longer drink.
Conversation at the table was brisk. As each new bottle of champagne was uncorked, the laughter and noise increased. The vicar recounted a jest about a saint who was accidentally sent to hell. He told it with all the enthusiasm of a devout sinner.
Ryder laughed until he looked at his wife. “You’re too damned quiet. You ate almost no dinner.”
“I didn’t want this to happen,” she said, eyes down on the plate with its slice of pineapple cake.
“It’s happened. Get used to it. Accept it.”
“I suppose there’s nothing else to do,” she said, and took another drink of her champagne.
“Are you planning to drink yourself insensible?”
“No, I don’t think that’s possible.”
“Oh, it is, believe me. Young men do the most ridiculous things, you know, like drinking themselves into unconsciousness, singing at the top of their lungs even while they’re falling flat on their faces under a table.”
He was smiling at her charmingly, laughing, seducing her with the best weapons in his arsenal. It wasn’t working.
“You’re tired, Sophie?”
“Yes,” she said, then realized the import of her words and actually jerked back in her chair.
“How are your ribs?”
“They hurt dreadfully as do my feet and—”
“You’re a very bad liar. You didn’t use to be, but you are now, now that I know you.”
“You don’t know me, Ryder. You truly don’t.”
“I will come to know you. It is something I want very badly. It’s unfortunate we will be separated. I will give you a letter to present to my brother the earl once you arrive at Northcliffe Hall. Also I will give you sufficient funds so that you and Jeremy can rent a carriage at Southampton and several guards. Promise me you will hire guards.”
She promised.
He was looking at the swell of her breasts above the soft lace over her bosom. “You’re thin at the moment, but I don’t mind. I’ll fatten you up.”
“Since I am with child, that will most certainly happen.”
Lies, Ryder thought. It was damned difficult to keep up with them. Still, he said easily, “The child, as I’ve told you, isn’t necessarily a foregone conclusion. It’s possible that you’re pregnant. I hope that if you aren’t pregnant you won’t be too disappointed.”
“I don’t feel well. I must be pregnant.”
That was interesting, he thought. He sat back in his chair, twirling the stem of his champagne glass between his long fingers. “You know, Sophie, there’s no reason for you to be embarrassed around me. No, please don’t waste my time or yours denying it. I told you I know women. Please strive to remember that you’re not a virgin since I took you. And I did look my fill at you. I even kissed that very cute birthmark of yours behind your left knee. So, you see, there is no need at all for embarrassment.”
“That’s true, I guess, but still—”
“Still what?”
“I wasn’t really there when you did all those things to me.”
“You will simply have to trust me.”
“Trust you the way you trusted me?”
“All the past lurid machinations are over, all the druggings are over, though I still admit to a burgeoning of rage when I think of you and your uncle stripping me and offering me up to that other girl. What was her name, by the way?”
“Dahlia. She looked at you and said you were a treat.”
When Ryder grinned she quickly added, “But not enough of a treat for my uncle not to pay her.”
“Did you watch me with her, Sophie?”
“Just for a moment because my uncle said I had to, that you were the kind of man to share intimacies with his mistress and thus I had to be prepared to be intimate in my speech back to you, but I couldn’t bear it, and left the cottage.”
“It was a very nasty game. Now, my dear wife, you and I are going upstairs.”
Not ten minutes later, she was staring at him across the bedchamber. He’d shut and locked the door. Then he was striding confidently toward her, smiling, looking at her with the victor’s gleam in his blue eyes.
She did look like a virgin sacrifice, he thought, staring at her. He supposed it was at that moment he accepted the fact that she was indeed a virgin, that all her supposed lovers had enjoyed Dahlia, that Samuel had been right when he’d said that she simply wouldn’t play the whore, no matter the cost.
He wondered briefly if he should tell her that she was still a virgin, and that he’d told her a magnificent lie to prevent her from marrying Samuel Grayson. Even as a silent thought, it didn’t sound all that promising as a way to bring her around. It made him sound like a bastard, truth be told. No, no, he’d keep it to himself. He had all the time in the world to tell her whatever he wanted to tell her. The truth could wait a bit longer.
He took her in his arms. He didn’t kiss her, just said as he looked down at her, “I know you have seen some of what men and women do together in bed. I know from firsthand experience that you know how to seduce a man, how to tease him until he’s hard as a stone and willing to say anything, promise anything, to you. However, I know you’ve never experienced any of it, even with me, because of the odd circumstances. We are going very slowly, Sophie. I don’t want you to hark back to the experiences you’ve had. They’re not important now. Only you and I are important. Do you understand me?”
“I don’t want this, Ryder. I need time.”
“You will have all the time you wish after tonight, at least seven weeks of it. I’m not like those other men. I will please you, I will make you forget them.”
His hands were on her back, lightly stroking up and down, slowly, soothing, as if she were a child, as if she were a wary animal to be tamed. She saw Lord David, felt his hands on her, his mouth on hers. And Oliver Susson and Charles Grammond, and Dickey Mason, another man her uncle had ruined with her help. There were two others, one of them now dead, the other a drunkard who’d left Jamaica in disgrace. Dear God, it was too much. She hated it. She hated herself and she hated him for forcing her into this marriage. She pulled away from him suddenly, taking him by surprise, and he let her go.
She walked quickly to the balcony, not
turning to face him until she was to the railing.
When she turned back, he was where she’d left him, standing in the middle of the room, only now he was taking off his coat. She froze, watching him. Next came his cravat. Then he was unfastening his shirt and vest. Then he sat down on a wicker chair and pulled off his boots. When he rose again, his hands on the buttons of his britches, she yelled, “No! What are you doing? Stop it!”
“Why?” he said. “I can’t offend your maiden’s sensibilities. Good God, woman, you’ve seen me naked. Not only have you seen me naked, you’ve seen my sex swelled. You’ve seen my eyes glazed with lust. There’s nothing new for you. Didn’t you see all the other men as well?”
She stared at him, unmoving. He was soon naked, and as he had been before, his sex was swelled, but he made no move toward her. Instead, he held out his hand. “Come here, Sophie. It’s time we began our married life together.”
“I don’t feel well,” she said.
“Very well,” he said more to himself than to her, and walked toward her.
Her wedding gown defeated her. She tried to duck around him but the skirts tangled between her legs and she couldn’t move quickly enough. She tripped on the lace hem and felt the material rip beneath her left arm. She hadn’t meant to hurt the gown. It was so beautiful, she hadn’t meant it. Ryder’s impatient voice brought her back to another misery.
“No more fighting me, Sophie. It’s done. You’re my wife. No more, do you hear me? We’ve only tonight and I want to consummate this damned marriage.”
“Let me go.”
“Not on your life. I’m going to undress you, Sophie. You will not fight me. You took a vow to obey me and it’s time you took that vow seriously.”
She raised her head and looked at him straightly. “From my uncle’s domination to yours. I want to be free, don’t you understand? A man is born with the taste of freedom in his mouth, but the chances that a woman can ever gain freedom are remote. It’s just as I knew it would be. You’re no different from the others. All of you are animals, selfish and brutal.”
The Sherbrooke Series Novels 1-5 Page 51