She might also grow wings and fly, but she would not place a wager on either. Still, she must at least try to turn the tide. “I am exhausted.”
“It has been a busy day,” her husband said as he led her into the hall, stopping her before the library door. “Let us finish our discussion later.” He kissed her temple. “In bed.”
* * *
Gideon had no sooner dropped Sabrina at the door to her bedchamber, than she was pacing. She could not believe her ill luck. She had married a man she was more attracted to than to any other in her life, a man she was also more angry with.
Just minutes after Gideon left her, Sabrina opened her door to a knock and found Miss Minchip, come to deliver a wisp of a white lace nightrail.
“I designed this, myself,” she said coming inside, “for your coloring and delicate condition, dear, and our dear Mr. Waredraper stitched it. Is it not splendid?”
How could Sabrina refuse such a gift when she did not even have the heart to refuse to be helped into it when Miss Minchip offered.
The virginal white gown gathered beneath Sabrina’s breasts to drape elegantly, if that were possible, over her blossoming figure. The white lace confection also made her feel the fraud for the first time since she accepted Stanthorpe’s proposal.
“No need for the vapors,” said Miss Minchip, noting her sudden lack of color. “Your bridegroom is not hard on the eyes. The only thing hard on that one will be what counts, mark my words.”
Sabrina gasped and the old woman giggled. “Well, it is not as if you are untouched,” she said, echoing Sabrina’s thoughts. “I would not have made so bold, if that were the case.” The old woman patted Sabrina’s hand and kissed her cheek. “Relax and enjoy.”
“Enjoy?”
“Do not sound so incredulous. Ah, I see. You have never...Well, well, you do have a treat in store.” Miss Minchip grinned and winked as she left, shutting Sabrina inside.
And what could the woman possibly have meant by that cryptic remark? Did she, too, believe, as Gideon seemed to, that enjoyment could be had, even for a woman in the marriage bed? Or outside of marriage, given the fact that the woman had never married, and neither had Gideon, and the both of them certainly seemed to know something Sabrina did not.
Either way, she thought, she had no intention of staying here and becoming a sacrificial lamb to a scapegrace bridegroom who withheld the truth about himself upon meeting her.
Checking the corridor to be certain the place was deserted, Sabrina made her lumbering way down the servants’ stairwell toward the main part of the house.
Rooms that were big and airy by day appeared ghastly and intimidating in the dead of night, she discovered. But she found, finally, that Stanthorpe’s grand library was not among the worst of them.
Illuminated by the silver glow of the moon, the elegant room, with the smell of beeswax and lemon-polished wood, old books and fresh flowers, radiated a welcoming quality even now.
Deciding to peruse the books closest to the moonlight streaming through the big bow window, Sabrina placed her candle on a table by the door.
She hoped that by the time she went back upstairs, the Duke would have given up waiting for her and retired to his own bedchamber.
There were hundreds of books to peruse and she took her time, seeking a title to suit her mood. Nothing so gothic as Mrs. Radcliffe’s Mysteries of Udolpho, but something more like Austen’s recent work. Perhaps the story of an aristocratic bridegroom and the apprehensive bride with whom he falls madly and irrevocably in love.
Sabrina bit her lip on a surge of grief at the foolish sentiment, but much to her consternation, the banked emotion escaped as something of a sob.
Blast it, she must remain strong.
* * *
When Gideon knocked on the door adjoining his bedchamber with his bride’s, he received no responding answer. “Sabrina?” he called. “Are you ready for— May I enter?”
He listened carefully, for at least the sound of a scuffle that might reveal her as unprepared to receive him as yet, but he heard nothing.
“Sabrina, are you in there?” Another minute of silence and Gideon opened the door...only to come face to face with a sea of black pitch.
After he went back to his bedchamber for a candle, he illuminated his bride’s maddeningly-empty chamber. “Where the devil?”
Taking up the candle, while attempting to keep his composure, Gideon set out to spend his wedding night on a bloody foolish bedtime chase for his new and decidedly-difficult non-virgin bride.
Truth to tell, the mettle it took for her to flee almost made him like her the more. It certainly added a degree of respect to his estimation of her. Frustration as well, not to mention his anticipation of rising to the challenge she presented. But he should be angry.
He was angry damn it. He was furious. Where the devil had she run off to?
If the tale of this wedding-night folly ever got out, he would be dubbed the sorriest wretch ever to indulge in sensual gratification. His reputation would, in fact, be ruined. He would be ruined.
After nearly an hour of searching, frustration and vexation at an all-time high, Gideon entered the library’s upper balcony on his way to the lower level for the decanter of brandy.
If he ever got his hands on his fugitive bride, he swore that he would not be held accountable for his actions.
CHAPTER FIVE
Gideon had no sooner entered the library’s wrap-around balcony, than he caught sight of Sabrina in the main library below. Her exotic beauty, enhanced by the moon’s soft glow, stole his anger as well as his breath.
His bride was breathtaking, and Gideon could do nothing for the moment but drink in the sight of her.
She stood in full profile before a tall bow window, the moonlight flowing through its mullioned panes casting a carpet of bright blocks on the floor at her feet. The same light revealed, in shadowed profile, though her lace and gossamer night-rail, the shape of her, heavy with child, her breasts, large and full, her legs long, slim and shapely.
The almost quixotic sight of her, every layer of defense peeled away, nearly stopped Gideon’s heart. Afraid even to breath, lest she become aware of his presence, Gideon willed himself to remain still and silent, so as to continue his clandestine observation.
He had yesterday, and earlier, seen her hair, twisted and plaited, arranged to be flattering and beautiful. But the silken mane of sable that he beheld at this moment, in its full radiant glory, cascading in magnificent splendor well-past her waist, appeared long and lush enough to blanket them both through the night.
Her features in profile were no less exquisite.
Recognition again swamped him, much as it had done the first time he saw her, as if they were connected in some fantastical way.
Never with another living soul had Gideon experienced such a heart-stopping awareness. And seeing her unguarded beauty, now, for the first time, he found himself doubly awed.
She had vowed to withhold her heart, and he respected that. He might have promised the same, for he had none. But for all his mystery bride’s bravado, he could not help wonder—
She gasped, straightened, and placed her hands to the small of her back, and as if her sudden physical pain combined with some hidden desolation inside her, she sobbed.
Gideon’s unprecedented flight down the carved, circular stairs revealed his presence in no small way. “Are you in pain?”
In turn, startled and astonished, Sabrina reacted as if he were on the attack, as if she could not comprehend his presence.
When he stopped before her, her violet eyes wide in dismay, she held a hand to her throat, as if she was prepared to die.
“Are you in pain?” he asked again.
“No. Yes, my back. It aches sometimes, which is n— Which is, I am told, normal for a woman this far along. It is nothing for which to become alarmed.”
With the intention of easing the ache at the base of her spine, Gideon made to place his arms about her, b
ut his bride reared back, as if he might do her harm. “No,” she said. “Do not.”
Fighting a welling of anger, Gideon willed himself to still and school his features. “You are my wife,” he bit out.
Her eyes filled but she blinked the moisture quickly away. Her lips, she caught in her teeth, to keep them from trembling, he perceived, and despite all that, she raised her chin. “Our bargain,” she said. “I apologize. I forgot.”
“Well, I have not,” he said, louder than he should. “I will not, by God, forget such a scurrilous wedding pact any day soon. If you cannot so easily afford me the courtesy due a husband, then please remember, Madam, that purchasers have rights, too.”
His bride paled, nearly undoing him, shaming him, except that he, Gideon reminded himself, righteously, had nothing for which to be ashamed.
She alone had planned dishonesty, and, well, so had he, he supposed, for a time, at least. “We find ourselves on common ground,” he said. “With a bargain between us. If you keep to your portion of it, then I shall keep to mine. Will you?”
His reluctant bride released her breath, her color returned, and she nodded.
“Very well,” Gideon said, releasing his own breath.
He attempted again to place his arms around her and, finally, without her recoil, he slipped his hands beneath the silken fall of her hair to knead her lower back.
The sound she made, of regret or relief, or even, God help him, of pleasure, did not help him forget that this was his wedding night.
“Place your hands on my shoulders,” Gideon said, his voice soft enough to soothe her and firm enough to assure her compliance. “I seek only to ease your pain, nothing more.”
Their gazes held as she complied.
Her abdomen, huge, taught, hard, pushed against him, as his fingers worked the small of her back.
His stroking eased her to such a degree that her frightened look vanished, as did the furrows upon her brow and the panic in her eyes.
Sabrina closed her eyes, floating of a sudden in some strange nether-world, thinking she must be dreaming, wishing, if she were, that the dream might never end. This man, more handsome than her imagination, in black brocade dressing gown and leather slippers, with his thick, dark waving hair and long, sooty-black lashes, could not possibly be her husband.
Her nemesis, more like. Her judgment.
When she opened her eyes, however, the devil remained, though the crinkles at the outer corners of his eyes, indicating not quite a smile, neither quite a sneer, altered his angular features to reflect...concern?
That enigmatic look engendered in Sabrina’s tired breast, hope. Almost too much to be borne and then lost, and yet the unlikely possibility of his caring warmed her just the same.
Comprehending that her bridegroom did not intend to beat her for her mad dash from their marriage bed, her apprehension slipped slowly away, leaving Sabrina relieved, but shaken.
“I suspect your little one could become a pugilist of some renown, judging by his efforts to dislodge me at this moment,” her bridegroom said, without lessening the pressure of his stroking, perhaps even deepening it.
Reminded of her babe’s antics, Sabrina relaxed to the degree that she smiled, surprised to find herself capable.
“Perhaps I should step back and allow him his way?” he suggested.
Disappointment filled Sabrina at the thought of relinquishing her new husband’s surprisingly gentle attention, to the degree that self-disgust filled her. How could she allow herself to become such an easy mark? Scoundrels of this caliber captivated women in such a way all the time. And this one, it appeared, was more practiced in seduction than most.
In self-protection, Sabrina stepped from his reach. “My child shall have to learn that he cannot always have life as he would. He shall have to compromise and settle for less than he might wish, as we all do, your grace.”
He took her reminder of their bargain as she expected, as if she had slapped him. His brow darkened to an anger as dark as his day’s growth of beard, though he bit down on his rage, if she did not miss her guess, for a tic worked vigorously in his cheek.
Uneasiness and exhaustion, combined with the weight of her burden, all mingled to betray Sabrina in that moment and her knees buckled beneath her.
Gideon caught and lifted her in his arms, distress once again creasing his brow. “I should not have kept you standing for so long.” He searched her face, for what, she did not know, and carried her to the settee.
He lay her upon it, easing her to her side and lowered himself to lie facing her.
Her shock at this scene, so closely resembling any number of foolish girlhood fancies, set up a trembling within her. Their bodies fit together like two halves of a whole. Their lips, scant inches apart, would meet, if one or the other of them moved so much as an inch.
This lying so close, in so small a confinement, in so public yet unlikely a place where anyone could come upon them, must be considered indecent, Sabrina reflected. Except that they were husband and wife.
What should she do? How should she act?
Her husband gathered her hair and settled it across them. Then he placed his arm behind her to continue his undulating motion, widening his span to knead her upper back and shoulders, to the base of her spine and beyond.
Sabrina gave up trying to make decisions and simply absorbed his touch, her senses heightened, her limbs growing heavy and weak. She dared to place her hand against his chest near the vee of his dressing gown, noticing that he caught his breath when she did.
Gideon had not expected his bride to make such a bold move, neither had he expected her to beg for his kiss. Did she even realize she was doing it? Could she know how invitingly parted were her lips?
In a moment, he would know.
He parted his own, fitting them to the invitation of hers, discovering a treasure of cool silk and warm, welcoming woman.
As the kiss went on, he continued stroking her back, with some force now, pulling her closer against him, as close as could be, given her current condition.
Gideon realized that the cadence of his touch had turned sensual, in the way he stroked her to her bottom, along the side of her breast, and in his arousal, hard against her, and he wondered at her thoughts. “What are you feeling and thinking, right now?” he asked.
“I...I think we should go upstairs,” she said.
“Yes,” Gideon said. “Let us go up to bed.”
That was not what she meant, Sabrina thought, almost frantic, as he lifted her off the settee and carried her up the library stairs.
But when he left her at her bedchamber door, for the second time that night, relief filled her and she bid him a good night.
Back in her bedchamber, she nearly fainted with relief, until she saw herself in her mirror. If not for the antics of her child, she could almost imagine herself a new bride, so innocent did she appear—from her breasts up, at least.
Still, the lacy confection seemed almost too dangerous a temptation, as if she were inviting trouble just by wearing it. “I have got to get out of this gown,” she said.
“By all means, do,” said her bridegroom, framed by a portal previously unseen by her, cut in the wall as it was. So much steely intent brightened his hunter’s eyes as to rob Sabrina of breath, before he was even close enough to reach for her.
And when he did reach, to unfasten the silken frogs at her bodice, she allowed that he must hear her heart pounding, in the same way she could hear it echo inside her head.
“Do you feel better?” he asked.
“Much, thank you.”
Her bodice scandalously undone, her breasts nearly spilling free, he took her hand and sat her at her dressing table.
Regarding him in her mirror, as he stood behind her, Sabrina shook her head, not certain what he wanted, but sure she must say no. But he nodded, just to be contrary, she thought, judging by the dubious twinkle in his piercing green eyes. “Relax,” he said, anticipation deepening the dimples
in his cheeks.
He combed his fingers through her hair. “Silk enough to cover us both,” he said, almost in reverence. “Had I known about this last night, I fear yon door would not have remained sealed.”
Sabrina knew then, just how much trouble she was in, for he had but stroked her hair and her weak body shuddered.
“Tell me how you feel, Sabrina.”
Did he honestly care? She knew of only one way to find out. “Nervous,” she said, licking her lips and waiting for him to turn on her, but he did not. Dare she reveal the whole? Though he did not know of her concern, his open countenance invited her to do so.
“And frightened,” she added.
“Good God.” He sat beside her, facing her, his back to the mirror, took her hand and examined her face. “You tremble. In fear of me?”
And why should that surprise him? She turned away.
“Look at me.”
She tried, but her gaze dropped to their clasped hands, instead.
With a gentle finger, he tilted her chin upward and looked into her eyes in such a way as to suggest that he could read her emotions in them.
Thank God he could not.
“Need I remind you that you ran from me.” He raised a brow. “On our wedding night, and no evil has befallen you at my hand.”
“Not yet,” she said.
Gideon cocked a brow. “There will be no reprisals,” he said. “My word on it. It is finished. Now tell me what else frightens you.”
“That...pleasing you might...harm my babe.” And cost me a piece of myself, she did not say.
“But I promised I would not penetrate.”
An inferno consumed her at his bold words. “But you said there were other ways,” she all but cried. “And I—”
Her agitated husband rose to pace.
She stood to plead with him but stopped when she saw his thunderous expression.
“Do not recoil from me,” he snapped.
“I cannot help myself. You look furious.”
“I am, damn it, but not at you. My fury is directed toward the man who frightened you.”
Undeniable Rogue (The Rogues Club Book One) Page 5