The Hellion Bride

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The Hellion Bride Page 32

by Catherine Coulter


  "All right," she said easily, and clasped her arms around his back. 'You're still the same. I think you're a bastard, a bounder, a man without conscience, a clothhead who has no caring for anyone save himself and his own pleasures and—"

  "Damn you, I'm not a bad man either. Ah, that's it, Sophie. No more of your agile tongue, that I—fool that I am—called forth myself. To think I begged you to give me back the hellion I married. No more. I will not let you have the upper hand any longer. You do too well when I deign to let you have it. No, now I'm going to take the reins back and you're going to moan, not speak your damned banalities that enrage me."

  "But, Ryder, you were embarrassed because your good deeds literally came home to haunt you."

  He jerked up her gown, tore her shift, unfastened his britches, and plunged into her.

  She couldn't believe that her body was warm and more than ready, truth be told, and she accepted him, craved him, the full length of him, and she lifted her hips to take more of him.

  "Now do you feel dirty, damn you?"

  She bit his shoulder, then licked the spot and moaned into his neck. He felt her hands pressing against his lower back, then against his buttocks, lifting her own hips even as she did so and he said again, "Do you feel dirty?"

  "No." Then she cried out, and he took her cries into his warm mouth and took his own release.

  "Do you still feel embarrassed?" she whispered against his throat.

  "You're lucky I am an understanding and giving man," Ryder said.

  "Yes, even to me, your wife."

  "You will cease your taunts, Sophie."

  "All right," she said, and kissed him full on his

  mouth. It was at that moment, just when Ryder was ever so willing to resume their lovemaking, that Jeremy's voice came loud and clear. "Ryder! Sophie! Where are you? Melissa cut her hand and is yelling for you."

  "What can one do?" Ryder laughed and rose, haul­ing Sophie up with him.

  CHAPTER

  20

  Mrs. Chivers brought Sophie the plain envelope with only her name in straight block letters printed on the outside.

  "The Meyers boy delivered it, ma'am," Mrs. Chivers said in a matter-of-fact voice. "Quite plain he is, looks just like his father."

  "Thank you." Sophie's hand was shaking as she took the envelope, but Mrs. Chivers didn't notice. She walked quickly into the small back parlor that she'd appropriated for her own use, shut the door, and leaned back against it, just staring down at that envelope.

  The contents weren't all that disturbing on the surface. She read:

  You will meet me this afternoon at three o'clock beneath the old elm tree at the fork of the road that divides Lower Slaughter from Upper Slaugh­ter. Don't be late and it would be wise not to tell your husband anything. I wouldn't want to have to kill him.

  It was signed with a simple "DL." David Lochridge. Lord David. Sophie walked away from the door and to her small desk. She sat down and placed the letter in the middle of the desktop and continued to stare at it. She didn't move, just stared and wondered what the devil she was going to do.

  She had only two hours to decide.

  "Sophie! Are you in here?"

  The door was flung open and there was Sinjun, looking as beautiful and windblown as Ryder did when he galloped in from the fields. Her blue eyes sparkled, just as did Ryder's, with the simple plea­sure of being alive.

  Her expression stiffened in an instant.

  "What's the matter? What happened?"

  She was also as perceptive as her brother. "Noth­ing is the matter, Sinjun." Sophie rose. Slowly, very slowly, she folded the letter and slipped it into the envelope. What to do with it?

  "I came to fetch you to luncheon. Unless, of course, you don't want to be part of the madhouse, which it will doubtless be. Ryder claimed he had a headache and was going to muck out stalls in the stable. I think Jane is probably right. She always says that adults should only dine with adults. Children only with children and guards."

  Sophie smiled brightly. "Then we should continue with Jane's procedure. Have Mrs. Chivers tell Cook that the children will luncheon in the breakfast room. How many guards did Jane have?"

  Sinjun laughed. "At least five."

  "Good. See to it, please. Also, call in Ryder from the stables." And she laughed, she actually could laugh.

  Sinjun left the room without demur and Sophie quickly put the envelope into the top drawer of her desk, way in the back, beneath some other papers.

  Ryder returned quickly enough when he heard of the new arrangement from his sister. He and Sophie and Sinjun were the only ones who sat down to luncheon in the huge dining room. It was blessed­ly calm.

  "This room is far too dark," Sinjun said as she forked a healthy bite of ham into her mouth.

  "Yes," Sophie said, not raising her head. She made small piles of her food on her plate and proceeded to push the piles around.

  "If you're sickening of something you'd best speak up," Ryder said sharply.

  She dredged up a smile for her husband. "I'm fine, just a bit tired. Jenny had a nightmare last night, as you know. I had a difficult time going back to sleep."

  Ryder frowned at her but held his peace. Actually, she'd fallen back to sleep instantly. It had been he who had worried about the nightmare for a good hour.

  What the devil was wrong with her? Was she regretting welcoming the children here? Were they tormenting her? She wasn't used to bedlam and that's what seven children were. Or maybe she was backsliding again. She'd made love to him sweetly the previous night, but who knew?

  Sinjun, bless her oblivious heart, continued with her monologue about the refurbishing of the dining room.

  Ryder took his leave after luncheon. He kissed Sophie lightly on her mouth, ran his fingertips over her eyebrows, studied her face, but saw nothing he could interpret. There was so much to be done, so many decisions to be made. He had to see Tom Lynch in ten minutes, a farmer of intelligence and sound common sense. Ryder sighed and took his leave and hoped doing nothing was what she needed right now.

  As for Sinjun, she was quick to absent herself, saying only that she was going to play with the children.

  At precisely three o'clock, Sophie pulled Opal to a halt beneath the elm tree, whose trunk was so thick and gnarly that it looked far older than the sur­rounding hills, probably older than all the goblins that supposedly lived burrowed under those hills.

  She hadn't long to wait. Lord David rode up look­ing as arrogant and self-assured as he always had. An angel's face with a devil's heart.

  She didn't say anything, merely waited.

  "You lied to me," he said in a very pleasant voice.

  "What a novel thing to say, considering the man who's saying it."

  "You told me you had (the pox. You said you wouldn't be my mistress anymore because you didn't want to infect me. You lied. You don't have the pox else you wouldn't have married Ryder Sherbrooke. You just wanted to be rid of me."

  "That's true."

  "But that's absurd! Truly ridiculous. You not want me anymore?"

  "It's true nonetheless."

  "Ah, so you wanted Ryder Sherbrooke, and you knew you had to get rid of me else he could have found out about me, and if he had, why then, he would never have believed that you preferred him over me. Yes, if he'd known about me, he would have realized that you knew what a real man was like and wouldn't be taken in by the likes of him."

  Sophie stared at him, wondering silently at the workings of his mind. "You think like no one I know," she said finally. "Besides, why do you care now? You told me you were going to wed an heiress. I can't imagine that you would want your betrothed to know about what you believe happened between us on Jamaica. Surely you cannot believe that I would say anything. You want this marriage to go forth, do you not?"

  "I spoke to Charles Grammond. We've come to a decision."

  She felt a frisson of uncertainty for the first time. Lord David was possessed of a mind that ran in onl
y one direction; it was probably the key to his success at gambling. He couldn't be diverted or sidetracked or brought about to see another point of view. His voice had lowered, deepened, and in that instant, she saw him naked, standing in front of her, and he was laughing and drinking the rum punch, becom­ing sodden, becoming ready for Dahlia, thank God.

  "What do you want, David?"

  His back straightened and he threw back his head like a little king. "I am Lord David to a whore like you."

  "What you are is a pathetic, corrupt, filthy-minded little bastard."

  He raised his arm then lowered it. "No, I wouldn't want to bruise that lovely face of yours. Your hus­band would surely notice and Ryder Sherbrooke is a man I won't wish to have as an enemy."

  Sophie supposed that she, as a woman, would never be accounted as an enemy worthy of notice. Well, she would tell him the truth and let him stew on it.

  "I will tell you something else, Lord David. I nev­er slept with you. Such a thought frankly turns my stomach. I never slept with any of the men. It was Dahlia, a girl you perhaps met in Montego Bay, always Dahlia at the cottage who came to see to you after you'd drunk yourself silly."

  He looked startled, then laughed. "Don't tell me that is the tale you tried to pass off on Ryder Sherbrooke."

  "It was all my uncle's idea. He forced me to pretend to take you all for lovers so he could gain what he wanted for himself. The rum punch all of you drank with great enthusiasm was, quite simply, drugged. You being the way you are, most men being the way they are, why, it was very easy."

  "Oh? And what did your uncle want from me?"

  "He wanted you to ruin Charles Grammond so he would have to sell his plantation, which he did, to my uncle. Then, after you'd done what he wished you to do, he told me to dismiss you. The pox infec­tion was his idea and it worked quite well. I remem­ber you turned positively white with fear."

  "You're lying. You will tell me no more lies. Your uncle was a gentleman who was distraught over your whoring ways. No one believed that you didn't mur-der him, even when Cole had it said about that your uncle was garroted by Thomas. And that damned Sherbrooke helped you escape Jamaica and pun­ishment. Now you're blaming him! Jesus, a lady wouldn't even know what the pox is. You're no lady. You're nothing but a cheap little whore and both Charles and I have decided that we enjoyed you enough so that we'll continue our little trysts."

  "As I said, you're pathetic and if you think I would ever allow you near me—"

  "I'm near you now and I fully plan to get near­er."

  "Ah, rape?"

  He merely shrugged. 'Your husband isn't a stupid man, but just maybe he is where women are con­cerned. I don't pretend to fathom why the hell he married you when he could have simply taken you until he was bored with you. Oh no, Sophia, if you screamed rape to him, he would probably kill you, because once a whore always a whore."

  'You make no sense, Lord David. You said you didn't want my husband for an enemy. He married me. He loves me. He wouldn't kill me, he would believe me, not you. He would kill you."

  "Are you so ignorant of your husband's nature? Of his reputation? Like you, he must have a great deal of variety. You loved sex, God, you started on your career when you were barely eighteen. You want sex still, I doubt it not. You can't stay faithful to one man, even to Ryder Sherbrooke, who, I've heard, has bedded every woman who resides in Kent. Now he's in the Cotswolds and no woman will be safe from him. You'll see. He'll parade his mistresses under your nose and laugh. Well, my dear, Charles and I are going to allow you to continue with your ways just as he will with his."

  He dug his heels into his stallion's sides, and came up close to her. He reached out his arms to her. Sophie raised her riding crop and brought it down hard on his arm. He yowled, jerking back.

  "You're utterly mad!"

  His face flushed with rage, but before he could do anything, the silence was broken by what sounded like a pack of wild dogs, all howling in anger, growl­ing deeply and viciously, bounding ready to attack, and to kill. Wild dogs in the Cotswolds?

  "What the bloody hell!"

  Sophie pulled Opal back from him. An arrow came flying through the air to land in Lord David's upper arm, just nicking it actually, but certainly ruining his superfine riding jacket. He screamed more in anger than in pain. He had no weapon. He had no way to defend himself against an unseen enemy.

  "You brought someone, you perfidious bitch! This isn't over, you'll see!"

  He wheeled his stallion about and was soon lost to her sight. Sophie just sat there, trying to breathe deeply. It was no surprise to her when the under­brush surrounding the road spilled out seven chil­dren, Jeremy, and Sinjun, all of them oddly silent after their sterling performance. Sinjun carried the bow. It had been she who had shot Lord David. Sophie climbed down from Opal's broad back.

  Jeremy came to her and enfolded her in his arms.

  "He's a bad man from Jamaica," the boy said. "I told Sinjun who he was."

  "You did well." She raised her head. All the children, from four-year-old Jenny to ten-year-old Oliver, stood silent, all in a line, watching her. She wondered how they had known, then decided she didn't want to know. She tried to smile but it was difficult. She said finally, "I was in trouble. Thank you all for your help. I truly believed a pack of wild dogs had somehow come along. You were splendid. I'm very proud of all of you."

  Sinjun said quietly, "I didn't think you wanted Ryder to know just yet. We will figure out what to do, Sophie. You're not alone anymore. But Jeremy doesn't understand everything that happened on Jamaica. You need to tell me more."

  'Yes, I will. Now, listen to me, all of you. I know that you all dearly love Ryder. But I beg you not to tell him of this. The bad man is as mean as a snake, he isn't honorable or good like Ryder. He wouldn't fight him fairly. I don't want Ryder hurt. Please don't say anything to him. All right?"

  Amy said, "What's a hore?"

  Tom slapped his hand over the little girl's mouth. "That's not a nice word. Don't say it again."

  Amy, affronted, yelled back at Tom, "You say hor­rible words to Jaime all because Ollie said you grew up on the docks. You—"

  Oliver got into the argument, waving one of his crutches about, and then Jenny said in a very car­rying voice, "I want to go pull up my dress and visit Mrs. Nature."

  Sophie felt something loosen inside her. She laughed, really laughed, and soon the children joined her, and it was Sinjun who carried Jenny off into the underbrush to visit Mrs. Nature.

  Sophie realized on the way back to Chadwyck House that none of the children had promised her not to tell Ryder.

  Jane and her two helpers were nearly recovered and would come to Chadwyck House within the next two weeks.

  Sophie, who knew all about Jane now, realized that the woman wouldn't be happy living in another woman's household. There would be no problem. They would simply build another house in the small knoll that stood not one hundred yards from the main house. Ryder agreed and work would begin soon.

  To Sophie's astonishment, Melissande decided after only one visit to Bedlam House, as Ryder had christened it, that perhaps having a child wasn't such a bad idea after all. All the children, even Jenny, told her over and over again how very beautiful she was. They were afraid to touch her for fear of somehow hurting her perfection. As for Melissande's husband, Tony, he groaned and said there was no hope for it. He was immediately taking her to London. "I can tolerate—just barely—some nodcock fool young man telling her that her eyebrows are like an artist's brush strokes, but all this nonsense from a pack of children? No, Sophie, it is too much. I will go into a decline if I have to hear much more."

  Tony sighed deeply. Ryder laughed. Melissande beamed at all the children, patting every single head. She promised each of them a special sweetmeat on her next visit.

  Ryder strode toward the house one afternoon, tired from a long day in the fields, speaking to many of his farmers. He'd also met with architects and arranged for artisans and wo
rkers for the new house. He'd also heard gossip about his gaggle of "bastards," and he'd gotten a good laugh from that. Just wait, he thought, just wait until there were a good fifteen children. Then what would the busybodies say? He wasn't at all surprised to realize that eventually, there would very probably be at least fifteen children, perhaps more.

  It was a hot day, far too hot for this time of year, nearly Michaelmas now. He heard the chil-dren before he saw them. Always, they were ready for him. They had set up some kind of signal sys-tem. In another minute, many of them were there, escorting him to the house, all of them talking at once, even Jenny. She was talking like a magpie now and he realized it was his influence that had brought the rapid progress. He wouldn't let her out of his sight after this. He quickly forgot his fatigue; he laughed and listened to each of them and all of them at once, and silently thanked the good Lord yet again that none of them had come down with the measles.

  And each night there was Sophie beside him, accepting him now, and he knew she enjoyed his body, knew that she looked forward to their time alone so she could touch him as much as she wished to, and accept his touches. Only last night, he had actually made her laugh when he was deep inside her. He felt good. He couldn't imagine the stars aligning themselves in a more propitious stance.

 

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