He paused, leaning back to look at her.
“I must admire your courage, madam. You have no way of preventing me.”
“No way? Suppose I appeal to your sense of honour?”
“What honour would I violate by making love to my wife?”
“Your sense of decency then,” she flashed.
“You belong to me –”
“You are mistaken. I might, one day, belong to you. But not if you force me now.”
They held each other’s gaze, hers defiant, his fierce with desire.
His grip tightened, pulling her hard against him, lowering his head until his lips almost brushed hers.
“You dare to make terms with me?” he breathed, fanning her face with his hot breath.
She could not move, so tight was his grip on her arms. Then his hand was behind her head, holding it steady while his mouth covered hers in a kiss that was full of rage. There was no escape. She could only stand there while he assaulted her with his lips, silently demanding that she desire him and welcome him into her bed.
And she could have done so if things had been different. She knew that. But he was still a foe and if he insisted on his rights now, they would be enemies all their days.
The world began to swim. Her senses were hot and confused. Her strength was running out.
And then she felt him stop, as though turned to iron. A violent shudder went through him, and the next moment she felt herself lifted high in his arms and carried to the bed.
She had lost the battle she thought wildly. He meant to take her, whether she willed it or not. She could have wept.
Then she felt herself flying through the air as he tossed her unceremoniously onto the bed. She stared up at him, then realised, to her astonishment, that he was walking away to the door that led to his room.
As he pulled it open he swung round to face her, his face black with fury. His hand groped for the key, found it, tossed it onto the bed, where it landed just in front of her.
“Use it, madam,” he said through gritted teeth. “Lock this door against me or by the devil himself, I won’t answer for the consequences!”
Then he was gone, slamming the door behind him.
It took her a moment to realise what had happened, but at last movement returned to her limbs and she scrambled off the bed to run to the door.
She turned the key in the lock, knowing by instinct that he was standing on the other side, listening for that sound.
Then she slid to the floor sobbing, but muffling the sound, lest he hear that too.
*
In the early hours she awoke to find that the ship was still tossing. There was some light outside and she got out of bed, meaning to go to the porthole. But as she did so, a sudden plunge made her lose her balance, hitting her cheek against the wall of the cabin.
Rubbing her face, she made her way unsteadily back to bed and did not leave it again until the swell subsided. She drifted off to sleep again and was awoken by bright sunlight with the ship moving very slowly.
She washed quickly and dressed, choosing a skirt and blouse, so that there would be no need for the Earl to hook her up at the back.
She stared at the door to his dressing room, wondering if he would knock and try to join her, being unwilling to wait.
At last she left the suite and went up on deck, where a steward greeted her.
“Good morning, my Lady – oh!”
He looked shocked at the sight of her face and she rubbed the bruise self-consciously.
“Yes, I fell,” she said. “That’ll teach me not to walk about on a pitching ship. I would like to have breakfast on deck, if possible.”
“Of course, my Lady. I’ll set the table up beneath the awning over there.”
She thanked him and went to sit under the awning, looking out over the sea and wondering why she could not yet see land. Her previous journeys had taught her that they should be nearing Gibraltar by now.
She was looking out over the rail when she became aware of the Earl by her side.
“You might have waited for me, my dear,” he said in a voice of gentle reproach.
“Yes, I should have done,” she said, conscious that they could be overheard. “But I was so anxious to see the water and the sun. I feel sure we must reach Gibraltar soon.”
The Captain had appeared behind them.
“We should have done so by now, my Lady – ” he began, but then he checked at the sight of her bruise.
It was on the far side to the Earl and he now saw it for the first time. She saw him get ready to ask about it, but then stop himself.
Of course, she thought. If he asked her, it would reveal that they had not spent the night together. She owed it to him to protect his dignity.
“Yes, it’s beginning to look very ugly, isn’t it?” she said to him. “Good morning Captain. I’ve already told the steward how I fell against the wall. My husband warned me not to walk about while the ship was still lurching, but I wouldn’t listen.”
Beside her she sensed the Earl relax.
“Wives never do, unfortunately,” he said.
“That’s true, my Lord. My own wife never heeds a word I say. Breakfast will be served on deck as you wished, my Lady. The table is almost ready.”
“You think of everything,” the Earl said, leading her to the breakfast table and holding the chair for her until she was seated. “But I’m concerned about that bruise. It looks painful.”
“Nothing I didn’t deserve,” she said lightly. “You warned me just before it happened, remember?”
He met her eyes.
“Thank you for that,” he said quietly.
“It is I who should thank you,” she said, also quietly. “I appreciate what you did last night.”
Before he could answer the Captain appeared again, asking if everything was to their satisfaction.
“Very much so,” the Earl said cordially. “But we seem to be travelling rather slowly, which puzzles me.”
“I’m afraid the ship sustained some damage in the storm last night,” the Captain said. “I believe one of the propellers may be damaged, but I can’t be certain until we reach Gibraltar. And I’m afraid that we have to limp there.”
The Earl made a wry face.
“That’s regrettable, but it can’t be helped,” he said. “Let’s just hope it doesn’t delay us for too long.”
When they were alone he said,
“A small delay in Gibraltar may even be useful. We can increase your wardrobe. Of course, Lady Mountwood’s clothes should really be individually made by seamstresses, but we’ll have to manage without that.”
“Clothes,” she said, trying not to sound too pleased.
“Up-to-date clothes,” he said, picking up her tone. “Although probably not actually fashionable.”
“When I’ve been to Gibraltar in the past I’ve been surprised at how fashionable they manage to be,” she said. “They get all the recent magazines, and copy them. In fact, I remember one shop that was especially good –”
“Excellent. We’ll go there.”
A sense of relief had fallen over them both. This small crisis would give them something to talk about while they circled warily about each other.
“Did you sleep well?” he asked politely.
“Very well, thank you.”
“Your dreams weren’t haunted by – remorse, shall we say?”
“It never crossed my mind,” she assured him truthfully. “And you?”
“Are you suggesting that I should feel remorse? For what, may I ask?”
“For nothing,” she conceded with a faint smile. “I suppose, if we’re being fair, I should consider myself lucky that you didn’t toss me overboard, instead of –”
She stopped, blushing slightly.
“Instead of simply onto the bed,” he finished for her. “You’ll never know how hard it was for me to walk away.”
After a moment he added,
“Or perhaps, one day, you
will know.”
He spoke so softly that she was not quite sure she had heard him properly. Then she realised that he had left her free to acknowledge his words or pretend not to have heard them. And she was glad, for she would not have known what to say.
And yet her heart could not help echoing,
‘One day – one day – ‘
With practical matters to be considered, they found that the time passed without awkwardness. They spent part of the day looking over the railing, watching the port of Gibraltar appear and grow very slowly nearer.
Over lunch his mood became a little tense, and Venetia realised that those of the crew who dared were regarding him with shock and even a slight hostility.
“You realise that this is your fault?” he growled. “It’s that bruise on your face. They think I did it.”
She gave a choke of laughter.
“It isn’t funny.”
“Of course it isn’t,” she said, straightening her face with an effort. “We have to convince everyone that you are a model husband, the perfect gentleman, full of refinement, gentle manners, courtesy –”
“You’ll drive me too far, madam.”
“Well it might help if you stopped calling me ‘madam’ in that formal way,” she pointed out, still amused. “The husband of my dreams would call me Venetia, or even beloved.”
“And precisely when did I become the husband of your dreams, beloved?”
“I thought I’d already told you that. When I discovered you were going to India.”
After a sulphurous silence he gave her a reluctant grin.
“Well, you might do something to restore my reputation,” he growled. “Otherwise, I shall never live this down.”
“All right,” she said, relenting.
The steward was approaching with coffee, and several other crew members were nearby.
Rising from her seat, she went to stand behind the Earl’s chair, slipping her arms about his neck and leaning down to rest her cheek against his.
The waiter served the coffee, careful not to look at them too obviously, but there was no way he could have missed her gesture of affection.
“My dearest,” she purred, turning her face slightly towards him.
At the same moment he turned to her and their eyes met, very close. His gleamed with interest, hers with challenge.
Then his hand moved swiftly, cupping her head so that his lips could brush hers.
“My darling,” he murmured.
He kissed her again, more firmly this time, his hand still imprisoning her head.
Very well, she thought. This was a game that two could play.
She managed to place her hands on either side of his face while she gave him her own kiss, firm and purposeful, her lips moving over his again and again. To her great satisfaction she could feel his astonishment.
“You’re playing a dangerous game,” he whispered against her lips.
“I’m playing the game you want me to play,” she whispered back.
At the same moment they released each other and drew back a little, eyes meeting eyes.
Each knew that their battle of wits had passed into a new phase. Each was glad of it, and knew that the other was also glad.
CHAPTER SIX
It was late when the Angelina edged very slowly into Gibraltar harbour. The sun had almost finished setting and they decided to go ashore to dine.
A steward was sent for a carriage and soon they were ready to step ashore and go exploring.
“Why don’t we first go to that shop you mentioned?” the Earl said. “Then we can discover if it’s still there and afterwards find a place to eat.”
To her delight the dressmakers was exactly as she had last seen it.
“We’ll return first thing tomorrow morning,” he said.
“You don’t think the Captain will want to leave tomorrow?” she asked anxiously.
“I don’t think he can start the repairs before morning. We’ll be here a couple of days, so we may as well enjoy it.”
They let the carriage go and strolled along Main Street looking into shop windows. Some of them were still open and they managed to buy a copy of The Times that had just arrived from England.
“But it’s much too soon for anything about the wedding to appear in a newspaper,” he said, in a voice that asked for reassurance.
“Of course,” she agreed. “But it will. I wonder what they’ll say, or whether they will realise what has happened.”
“I devoutly hope not,” he said. “I need time to arrange that story before our return to England.”
They were passing a very large and luxurious restaurant. He led the way inside and soon they were settled at the best table.
The Earl took great care ordering the meal, consulting her taste and inviting her opinion, deferring to the fact that she had been here before, and he had not. But he did not consult her before saying,
“And the best champagne you have in the cellars.”
When the bottle arrived and they each held a glass, Venetia returned to the subject.
“Don’t you mean that we need time to arrange our story?” she enquired sweetly.
“Yes, I’m sure that’s what I meant,” he said with resignation. “I dare say you are already making schemes inside that devious head if yours.”
“Well, they’d love the truth,” she mused. “All about how you were deceived into marrying someone you’d only met once before, and then discovered that you weren’t even clever enough to make sure you had the right bride. Did you say something?”
The Earl had made a noise.
“Nothing,” he growled.
“I thought you said something.”
“I was actually suppressing my thoughts for fear of alarming you,” he said. “But I forget that nothing alarms you.”
“True. So you need not suppress anything that comes into your mind. Although I imagine I can guess these thoughts. Just think! All those headlines about the unwanted bride.”
“I could hardly want you if I’d only met you the night before,” the Earl pointed out.
“Which is also when you met the bride you did not want,” Venetia said sharply.
The Earl laughed.
“I’d forgotten that for a moment. But it was crazy of me, Queen or no Queen, to think of marrying a girl who might have been hideous to look at and ghastly to talk to.”
Venetia knew it was unwise to show any interest, but she couldn’t resist saying,
“And?”
“You’re interesting to talk to, I’ll give you that.”
She laughed aloud.
“Coward,” she said. “You’re lucky to have been palmed-off with no-one worse than me.”
“Now you’re fishing for compliments. I thought the moment I saw you, you were passably pretty.”
“Passably?”
“I have extremely high standards,” he replied apologetically.
“I’ve a good mind to throw this champagne over you.”
“Don’t do that,” he said agreeably. “It’s an excellent vintage and I believe they only have two more bottles.
As they were eating the first course he conceded,
“After our first conversation I realised you were also extremely intelligent. I’ll even admit that I rather dreaded this voyage simply because there would only be one person to talk to. With most women I find their conversation ends in a day. After that they merely repeat themselves.”
“Now you are being horrid and it is untrue,” Venetia said. “Some women are very intelligent, like my mother. My father invariably asked her opinion on anything before he made up his mind.
“I didn’t realise that until I was much older, and watched them together. They were very happy with each other and it is what I always hoped to find for myself.”
“Only to be disappointed with me,” the Earl said.
If he was hoping for a compliment he was deceiving himself.
“That isn’t the right word,�
� Venetia answered. “You were not precisely a disappointment –”
“Thank you ma’am,” he said ironically. “I’m overwhelmed by the intensity of your enthusiasm.”
“Well, you should not be. I assure you my enthusiasm for you is not at all overwhelming.”
“I see,” he said, chagrined.
“Although naturally I do my best,” she added kindly.
He grinned suddenly.
“Little cat,” he said, without anger.
Venetia chuckled.
“So,” he went on, “if I am not precisely a disappointment, what – precisely – am I?”
“Well – ” she said with a judicious air.
“Come along, be honest. Don’t spare my feelings. Oh but how foolish of me. You weren’t going to, of course.”
“You really understand me very well after such a short time,” she said.
“Yes, don’t I? Right this minute I know you’re planning to say something that will tease and infuriate me. And you’ll say it with a smile.”
“I think that’s very unjust,” she said with an air of injured innocence. “I was only going to say that you are different in every way from what I had expected.”
“You didn’t expect anything,” he retorted at once. “You never gave the practicalities of the situation a moment’s thought beforehand.”
“That’s true,” she admitted with a sigh. “I suppose I never really thought of you as an individual at all. You were just like the little sugar groom that goes on top of the wedding cake.”
“You move him here and move him there, but you don’t expect him to have thoughts and feelings,” the Earl supplied.
“Or the bride either. Any man who undertakes to marry a woman the day after meeting her, sees women as sugar dolls, which in fact is true of you. Your own words have confirmed it.”
“I?”
“On the train to Portsmouth. I seem to recall we had a certain discussion about your ideal wife.”
He cleared his throat.
“Never mind that. If I thought I was marrying a sugar doll, I have learned otherwise.”
“So we were both surprised. Insofar as I had any expectations of you, they were that you would be very English and therefore limited in conversation, unless you were talking about hunting, shooting and fishing. At the same time, because you were a protégé– of the Queen, I thought you would be very proud of yourself and somewhat of a snob.”
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