Bedeviled Bride (Regency Historical Romance)

by Knight-Catania, Jerrica

  Beth inhaled sharply and went still. Michael held just as still, waiting for the pain to pass. Her breathing was labored, as if she were trying not to cry. He put a hand to her cheek. No tears. But her eyes were wide and scared.

  “I'm sorry,” he muttered, hating that she had to endure this kind of pain in order for him to feel pleasure. The last thing he wanted was to hurt her. He was her husband, it was his duty to keep her from harm, to keep her safe. Yet there was no way around this. He only hoped he'd be able to convince her that it wouldn't be like this every time.

  She shook her head. “It's all right,” she replied in a whisper. “I was prepared...well, as prepared as one can be for this sort of thing.”

  A wide smile broke on Michael's lips. “Well, I'm glad for that...Does it still hurt?”

  “Not very much.” She returned the smile and said, “You may proceed.”

  “Oh, thank God,” he moaned in response.

  And then all was forgotten as he pressed into her. He tried to take his time, tried to be as gentle as possible, but dear God, it had been too long. And she was perfect. Like nothing he'd ever known. And before another rational thought could form in his brain, he was there, at the precipice, spilling inside of her. Her legs wrapped around his back, her arms around his neck, as he bellowed in pure ecstasy.

  He bucked against her and in the back of his mind, he wondered if she was all right. If the pain was too much for her. But when the fire finally began to die, he opened his eyes and met her gaze.

  Her perfect, smiling gaze.

  “Does it hurt?” he asked, concern causing his brow to furrow as he held himself over her.

  She shook her head and he knew she was lying. He should have been angry that she wasn't being completely honest with him, but in that moment, he loved her for it. The fact that she was sacrificing her comfort to make him happy warmed his heart.

  Michael withdrew slowly and settled himself at her side. He pulled her into his embrace and held her, knowing that no matter what had happened before—no matter the anger and the resentment over their marriage—they were going to have a very happy life together.

  Sixteen

  Michael opened his eyes to the vision of his wife's lovely backside. He enjoyed the view for a moment before he realized she was trying to escape without him noticing. She crept about, looking for her robe probably, growing frustrated at not being able to find it.

  “Looking for something?”

  Beth whirled around and a wide smile lifted Michael's lips. Dear God, she was glorious. Her milky white skin gleamed in the streaks of sunlight that flooded his room. Her breasts hung perfectly above a whittled waist and perfectly curved stomach and hips.

  Embarrassed, her hands shot to cover her breasts and her skin turned from milky to a flushed pink.

  “Come back to bed,” Michael said, hoping there was more authority than awe in his voice.

  Beth's blonde curls bounced as she shook her head. “There is much to do today, Michael. Please, where is my robe. I need to begin getting ready.”

  For the first time, Michael noticed the pained look in his wife's eyes. Oh, Lord. He flipped the covers back, looking for what he was sure would be there. He winced when he saw it. They'd both fallen fast asleep before he'd had the chance the clean her up.

  He glanced back up at Beth. Her eyes were closed, her face scrunched up in mortification. Clearly, she didn't want to be here when he discovered the bloodied sheets.

  Without another thought, he rose from the bed and went to her. She didn't open her eyes, but when he took her in his arms, her body relaxed, practically melted into his. But then she was tense again, convulsing slightly, as sobs wracked her body.

  “Shhh, shhh...it's all right,” Michael soothed. “It's nothing to be embarrassed about, darling. It's normal, I assure you. Are you sore?”

  Her head nodded up and down against his bare chest.

  “All right then. Come lie back down so I can clean you.”

  Beth's body stiffened and she tried to pull away, clearly mortified at the thought of having him clean her there.

  “No, don't,” he pleaded, holding her tighter. “You'll feel better when I'm done, I promise.”

  It didn't appear that she was going to go back to the bed with him willingly, so he scooped her up in his arms and carried her there. She'd yet to open her eyes and her face was still scrunched up. Michael wanted to laugh, she was so adorable, but he knew that wouldn't make matters any better.

  “Don't move,” he gently advised, then seeing the big tear that eked from her tightly closed eyes, sat down beside her on the edge of the bed. He brushed the tear away with his thumb. “I'm only going to the other side of the room. I'll be right back.”

  “That's what I was afraid of,” Beth whimpered and Michael couldn't help but laugh this time.

  “I dare say we'll encounter far more embarrassing situations in our life together, Beth.”

  Her eyes snapped open at that. “Like what?” she asked, alarmed.

  “Well, I'm not sure.” Michael chuckled. “I assume rather gruesome things happen when a woman is with child. Benjamin said that Phoebe's flatulence was something to rival any man.”

  Beth gasped and flung the covers over her head. Only her dainty fingernails showed over the edge of the coverlet. With an amused grin, Michael pulled the covers down and tucked them under her chin, then put a hand to her cheek.

  “Are you so worried about farting in front of me, Elizabeth?”

  Her cheeks turned bright pink. “Stop that! And yes, I am. But...”

  “But what?”

  Beth's face twisted up again and she bit down on her bottom lip so hard Michael worried she might draw blood.

  “But...what we did last night. I could be...”

  Michael nodded, his mood turning serious as he considered the possibility. He wasn't sure how he felt about it just then. His wife was only starting to warm to him and he thought perhaps they could use more time, just the two of them. On the other hand, the idea of her being ripe with his child made him exceedingly happy. “Would that please you, if you were?”

  She gulped visibly and Michael wished he hadn't asked. The answer was clear in her cold, blue eyes.

  Not waiting to hear her negative reply, he stood abruptly and stalked to the washbasin.

  ***

  Beth watched as Michael strode angrily to the other side of the room, wondering what she'd done to change his mood so quickly. He hadn't even given her the opportunity to answer. Or to defend the answer she was going to give.

  The truth was that yes, part of her wanted to have a baby. But the other part of her was terrified to death of giving birth. Women died all the time in childbirth—why would she be any exception? The idea made her breath come in short spurts, made her heart race and her hands tingle. She inhaled deeply through her nose, desperately trying to fill her mind with happier thoughts, thoughts of her family, of Daisy, her beloved pet...

  Amidst her pleasant memories came the vision of the red-haired ghost she'd seen in the west wing. Good heavens, that would haunt her always, she realized. The vision somehow mingled with the memory of Bonnie standing behind her in her mirror the day before and suddenly all thoughts she'd had of child birth faded away.

  There was something wrong, something she couldn't quite put her finger on, but it bothered her nonetheless. She was beginning to question if what she'd seen that night had been real. Had her dislike for Bonnie manifested itself in her wild imagination? Had her mind, roiling as it was with contempt for Bonnie and confusion over her husband, simply played a trick on her?

  She looked at Michael, who stood over the washbasin, wringing out a white cloth. His face was hard, his brow furrowed into a scowl, and he muttered quietly to himself. Too quietly for Beth to hear, and she wasn't sure she would have wanted to hear anyway.

  Should she say something? Had she upset him by not answering his question before? Should she answer it now in the affirmative? She hated that
look in his eyes—hurt and angry at once—and she thought she might do anything, say anything, to make it go away. She wasn't sure what had changed—why or when she'd started caring so much about his happiness—but she did.

  “Michael, I—”

  “Don't,” he said as he approached the bed again. “I know.”

  “You do?” She blinked her eyes, wondering if he could possibly know what she was thinking.

  He nodded once and sighed heavily. “I'm sorry, Beth. I'm sorry I'm not him. I'm sorry that I'm not your ideal for a husband or a father to your children. And I'm sorry that I forced you into a marriage, into a situation—” he looked around the room with a harried expression “—that you never asked for, never planned on. And I'm sorry that I hurt you last night,” he finished, his voice weary.

  Beth stared at her husband, trying to understand. A few days ago she would have said his apology was her due. That he owed it to her for what he'd put her through. But not now. She didn't believe that anymore. He was right, of course. She hadn't asked or planned for any of it, but she was coming to wonder if the things she had asked and planned for might have left her miserable. What if she had married Andrew? What if now she was waking up in Andrew's bed? Would he be as conflicted if she'd not been ecstatic at the possibility of carrying his child? Not in any likelihood. For the woman he loved—truly loved—already carried his child.

  She wanted to tell Michael that he was wrong, that he didn't know what he was saying. Surely it would be wrong to let him go on thinking the things he thought about her. But would he believe her now? No. This wasn't the time.

  And proof of one's feelings was always better than words.

  “Are you going to clean me up?” she finally asked, her voice as even and impassive as possible.

  Michael started as if he'd been in a dream and blew out a long breath. “Yes, of course.

  Tentatively, Beth drew back the covers and allowed him to clean her. She wasn't so embarrassed anymore. There was something strangely sweet and intimate in the action that she hadn't anticipated. It made her want to wrap her arms around his neck and kiss him. Maybe even make love to him again. She wondered if it would hurt this time or if the pain would ebb now that he'd broken through her maidenhead.

  There was only one way to find out.

  Once Michael finished and had returned the washcloth to the basin, Beth beckoned him to the bed. With a confused expression, he complied, though he didn't crawl between the sheets as she'd hoped.

  “What is it?” he asked as he stood there, still naked as the day he was born.

  Beth swallowed. Seduction. She was still rather new to the concept. Though he'd given her a lesson the night before, she had to admit she'd lost the ability to truly absorb information at a certain point.

  “Um, will you...” She patted the empty space next to her.

  Michael's eyes flickered to her hand and then back to her face, his features hardened like stone. Then he shook his head. “We have much to do today.” Out of nowhere, he procured her robe and handed it to her. “I'll see you at breakfast.

  Seventeen

  Michael ate his breakfast quickly. He decided he didn’t actually want to see his wife over breakfast. He really wished he didn’t have to see her at all today, but that was an unlikely scenario. They would have to meet with the new staff and assign them to their duties. The new furniture would be arriving in just a few days, so the dust and grime needed to be eradicated before then.

  Silence. Michael threw down his napkin, his appetite suddenly gone. Of course she wasn’t going to answer that question. Of course she bloody well didn’t want to carry his child. He was the wrong man!

  Images from the night before swam in his head until he was hard and aching again, despite his anger with himself. With her. With Chloe, and his brother. Damn them all for ruining his life!

  “Lord Michael!”

  Michael started at the sound of his housekeeper’s voice and turned startled eyes on her. He paused a moment out of shock and then said, “Yes?”

  “Look at the mess you’re making,” she scolded in the same tone she’d used when he was a lad of eight. “It’s not as if we don’t have enough to do around here, but there you are, crumbling biscuits onto the rug!”

  He looked down to see that the floor beneath him was littered with crumbs. His hands held the remainder of the evidence and he immediately brushed them off over the service tray.

  “Sorry, Mrs. Kerr,” he apologized, jumping up from his seat and moving away as she set to cleaning the area. “I’m a bit...distracted this morning.”

  “Not to worry,” the portly woman replied from under the chair. “Men tend to get that way when they’ve a babe on the way.”

  The air seemed to constrict in Michael’s passageways all of a sudden, and he choked and sputtered on absolutely nothing. When he finally came to, Mrs. Kerr was staring at him with mild concern.

  “I beg your pardon,” he said.

  “Well, surely you know by now, milord. Well, she told me just the other day. I even tried to hint as much to you. I was certain you would have gotten it out of her by now.” She paused and gave him a curious look. “You really didn’t know?”

  Michael felt his head shake back and forth, barely aware he was making the motion. He wanted to laugh at the absurdity of the moment, especially since he’d taken her virginity only a few hours before. So, that was what she was trying to hide from him. Mrs. Kerr thought she was pregnant, but Beth was too embarrassed to tell him.

  But why hadn’t she set Mrs. Kerr straight? Why was she allowing the woman to believe she was with child? And what was he supposed to say to the woman now? That Beth had lied to her?

  Damn it, they would have to work together on this one.

  “Mrs. Kerr, please assemble the staff in the front hall in a half hour. I’m going to see my wife.”

  ***

  Beth tip-toed her way across the central landing to the staircase at the opposite side. The staircase that led to the west wing. With her husband angry at her and preoccupied with breakfast, this was her chance to do a little exploration on her own.

  Not that she hoped to see her ghost in the daylight, but perhaps she could find something else. A clue?

  She chuckled. What was she thinking? She wasn’t going to find anything, and she knew it, but still...

  The thought of facing her husband right now was not something she relished. He’d left angry and hurt and clearly he wanted to be alone. She would set him straight soon, but perhaps he needed some time to let his anger abate. And she needed time to think through what she wanted to say to him.

  She climbed the stairs, glancing behind her every few steps to make sure no one was watching. All was quiet in the foyer, so she continued her journey. When she reached the landing, she stood motionless, staring down the long, dark corridor.

  It was colder here, and much gloomier than the rest of the house. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust, and when they did, she began her slow walk down the hall.

  In her head, she counted the doors. Third from the last on the right. That was where she’d seen her. With a trembling hand, Beth turned the handle and pushed the door so it swung open into the room.

  Light flooded the hallway. Beth squinted her eyes and gave them another moment to readjust to the bright sun.

  How different the room looked in the daytime. Though it was covered in a solid three inches of dust, it was a lovely room. The windows stretched from floor to ceiling and there were ten of them that spanned the entire wall. This place wasn't nearly as frightening in the light of day.

  With her heartbeat back to a normal rhythm, Beth made her way to the windows and looked out onto the gardens. Was this the window she’d seen the light in? She couldn’t be sure. Certainly this wasn’t the only room that had windows like this. And truth be known, she hadn’t really been paying attention to the windows themselves.

  She made slow work of examining the contents of the room. Damask-covered c
hairs were placed at intervals throughout the space, console tables in between every pair.

  And then her eyes landed on the mirror above the console closest to the door. Beth was tempted to look in it—to see if the woman would appear to her in broad daylight. She looked around. It was so quiet and still, no signs of any other-worldly presence, but she shivered just the same.

  “Silly girl.” She laughed aloud at her foolishness, and then, just to prove to herself how very foolish she was, she marched right to the mirror. With her hands propping her up on the table, she very slowly raised her head and then let out a scream that was piercing even to her own ears.

  ***

  “Ahhhhhhh!” Michael jumped several feet in the air, he was sure, at the sound of his wife’s blood-curdling scream. “Dear God, Beth, what is it?”

  With labored breaths, Beth put her hand to her heart and collapsed against the console table.

  “Oh, Lord, did I do that?” he asked, watching her as she tried to catch her breath.

  She only nodded her response, still too overset to speak. He was rather overset himself, but then he noticed there were tears in her eyes, so he decided not to say anything. Good God, he’d scared her half to death. With soothing words, he stepped closer to her and gathered her against him. She came willingly and then released her tears with soul-wracking sobs.

  “You scared me,” she cried, her body trembling.

  “I know, I know. Good heavens, I’m sorry.” He caressed her hair and kissed her temple, trying to ignore the delicious smell of lavender that set his pulse to racing. “I thought you heard me. I promise I wasn’t trying to sneak up on you, darling.”

  He pulled back, keeping his hands on her shoulders, so he could see her face. It was scrunched like a baby bunny as she tried to hold in her tears. Good Lord, this was the second time he’d made her cry in one morning. What the hell was wrong with him?