The Heiress Bride

by Catherine Coulter

  “Colin?”

  “Is that little thin voice actually coming from the woman who wanted to rip my breeches off and have her way with me the instant we left London?”

  “Yes, but I don’t like this. This is different. The motives are no longer there for getting it done. What’s more, you’re looking at me—”

  “As I recall, you did the same to me, only the covers were down around my ankles. You looked your fill, did you not, and you were fully dressed?”

  “Not at first. I was in my nightgown at first.”

  “But you wouldn’t cover me until you’d looked your fill.”

  “It wasn’t enough, Colin. I could have looked for a good deal many more hours.”

  He had no smart reply to that. He leaned down, not touching her with his hands, and gently took her nipple in his mouth.

  He thought she’d try to fling him off her, but she only quivered a bit, then became still as a stone.

  “What are you doing, Colin? Surely that—”

  He blew warm breath over her and she gasped.

  “This is my prelude,” he said, and lowered his head again to his pleasant task. Her scent filled his nostrils and he strengthened his pressure on her soft flesh.

  “Oh dear, Colin, that feels quite strange.”

  “Yes, I trust it is also enjoyable.”

  “I don’t know. Perhaps. No, not really . . . oh goodness.”

  He very gently lifted her breast in the palm of his hand, pushing her firmly against his mouth. When he raised his head to look at her face, he also saw the darkness of his flesh against the white of hers. So different they were.

  Perhaps having a wife wasn’t going to be such a disaster after all. He wanted to come inside her now, this instant, but he knew he would have to wait. He knew that women needed encouragement, particularly stroking between their thighs, and he knew also that he wanted to taste her, to learn the textures of her soft flesh against his mouth and his tongue.

  Enough was enough. It was time to expand upon his prelude. He rose quickly to stand beside the bed. He was quiet a moment, just staring down at this new bride of his, the bride he hadn’t wanted, the bride who had saved him and his family for generations to come. He took off his clothes, calm and controlled, just smiling down at her, seeing the anticipation, the banked excitement in her incredible blue eyes—Sherbrooke blue eyes he’d heard them called in London. But he also saw the wariness there; her eyes were following his every move. He shrugged out of his shirt, then sat down to pull off his boots. He didn’t turn around when he stripped down his britches; indeed, he never looked away from her. He straightened when he was naked and smiled at her, his arms at his sides. “Look your fill, my dear.”

  Sinjun looked and she kept looking. Then she shook her head as she said, clearly appalled, “This will never work, Colin. It can’t.”

  “What can’t work?” He followed her eyes and looked down at himself. He was fully aroused, something of a surprise since he hadn’t really gotten things started yet; he was also a large man, and although in his experience women usually grew quite excited at the sight of him, he imagined that a virgin wouldn’t be quite so enthusiastic, at least not at first.

  “That,” Sinjun said, pointing unnecessarily at him.

  “It will be all right, you will see. Could you try to trust me?”

  Her throat worked. She couldn’t seem to get the words out. She just kept staring at him. “All right,” she whispered, pulled the covers to her chin, and slid over to the far side of the bed. “But I don’t think trust has much to do with it.”

  He waited a moment, then said, “Do you have any idea of how all this will work?”

  “Oh yes, certainly. I’m not stupid or ignorant, but what I thought can’t be right. You’re too big and even though I trust you it can’t be the way I thought it would be. It’s utterly impossible. Surely you can see that.”

  “Well, no, I can’t,” he said, and, still smiling at her, he walked to the bed.

  CHAPTER

  7

  SHE’D BEEN SUCH a tease, so certain of herself, utterly outrageous in her speech, trying to get him to bed her, yet in truth she was terrified. It amused him, this virginal fear of hers, given all the invitations she’d forced down his throat. He looked down at her, aware that she was trying to shift away from him.

  He lifted the covers and climbed in beside her. He came down over her, and her breasts pressed against his chest. She sucked in her breath at the same moment he sucked in his. “This is very nice, Joan,” he said, and kissed her even as he rubbed himself against her breasts.

  “You feel furry, and it sort of tickles. It’s very strange, Colin.”

  “And you feel soft and warm, like silk slowly rubbing against one’s flesh.”

  His tongue entered her mouth at the same time his hand moved flat and smooth over her belly to curve around her.

  His fingers rested there, not moving, just touching her to feel the heat of her and for her to feel the heat of him. Then he merely pressed down, giving her the weight of his hand against her flesh. She quivered, he felt it, and it pleased him. He was also harder than a stone; it was unnerving, nearly painful, and it was also driving him witless.

  Sinjun was looking at him when he kissed her. His eyes were closed and his thick black lashes were against his lean cheeks. He was utterly beautiful, and this was what she wanted, what she’d wanted since she’d decided to have him, but goodness, there was so much of him, surely too much of him, much too much, and it couldn’t be pleasant, not remotely pleasant. Ah, but his hand and his fingers, resting there, just lightly pressing against her, and it was such a private place, this part of her, yet it felt right for him to have this intimacy with her, perhaps. Perhaps not. This wasn’t unpleasant, certainly not, and perhaps he would content himself with this. She rather prayed that he would. Then he opened his eyes.

  “Any closer and your eyes will cross,” Colin said, and laughed, a rather painful sound because he’d grown even harder than a stone in the past minute, nearly gone beyond anything he could remember except when he’d been a boy and so randy he’d been in constant need; and he wanted to come inside her this moment, this very instant, deep and deeper still, and . . .

  “Please,” she said, and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Please teach me how to kiss, Colin. I do like kissing. I could kiss you forever.”

  “There’s much more than kissing, but we’ll begin there and always come back to it. Just open your mouth to me and give me your tongue.”

  She did, and when her tongue searched his out, she felt his fingers sliding down, rubbing lightly against her flesh, and she squirmed at the strange sensations it brought to her, so deep inside her, so very low, and she moaned into his mouth, startling both of them.

  He lifted his hand and looked at her face at the same time. Her disappointment was clear for him to see. He smiled, albeit painfully. “You like that. Shall I continue?”

  “Perhaps it would be all right.”

  He laughed as he kissed her again, but her moan when he eased his finger inside her made him forget everything but the pounding need he felt, a need that was growing beyond him, beyond his control.

  She was very small, this bride of his, and he knew he had to keep control of himself. He wanted to give her pleasure, but he doubted it would be possible this first time. Perhaps it was better just to get this first time over with, and quickly. She was easing around his finger, her warm flesh accommodating him now, and he moved deeper. Yes, she was softening for him and the moistness of her made him picture his sex deep inside her and he nearly went over the edge with lust.

  He moaned and shuddered and moaned again, and Sinjun, momentarily loosening herself from the feelings he was building in her belly, snapped her eyes open. “Colin? What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?”

  “Yes, and it’s wonderful. Joan, I must come into you now. You’re eased for me, truly, but it will be tight. Trust me. I’ll go very slowly, but come into you I m
ust. This first time must be done or there couldn’t be a second time, which will be wonderful for you, you’ll see, just trust me.”

  Every pleasant feeling evaporated in the flash of an instant. Sinjun stared at him, now between her legs, raising her knees, positioning her for himself. He was too big, far too big; it was unimaginable. “No,” she said, panicked now, as she pressed her fists against his hairy chest. “Please, Colin, I have changed my mind. I should like to wait, perhaps Christmas might be a nice—”

  He came into her and she yelled, pressing her hips into the feather mattress, but he only grasped her hips in his hands and pushed deeper and deeper still. She tried to hold herself still, to keep her cries deep in her throat, but it was difficult. She closed her eyes against him and against the pain, but it became only more rending. Then she felt him stop inside her and he was breathing hard, his voice trembling when he said, “Your maidenhead, I’ve got to get through it. Don’t scream. Sweet Jesus, I’m sorry, sweetheart.” He pushed forward even before he stopped speaking, and she yelled, loud and hoarse, and he brought his hand down quickly over her mouth, muffling her cries, and he was touching her womb and she hated it, hated the pain and the rawness of it, the alien invasion of her body, but he wasn’t hurt, oh no, he was a wild man, driving into her then pulling out, again and again until suddenly he was rigid over her, his back arched, stiff as a board, and she opened her eyes and stared up at him to see that his eyes were closed, his head thrown back, his throat working against what seemed to her to be a raging cataclysm.

  He moaned, then yelled, muted because of her brothers, she assumed, then he fell forward on her. She felt him then inside her, the wetness of him, his man’s seed, and she felt . . . she didn’t know what she felt. The pain he’d inflicted in her body, yes that, certainly, but more than the throbbing pain, the rawness. He’d lied, telling her to trust him, and like a twit she had, at least a little bit, until he’d forced himself into her.

  She felt betrayed.

  He was breathing hard, his face beside hers on the pillow. His body was heavy on hers. She felt the sheen of sweat on him and on her.

  It was difficult for her to speak calmly, because she wanted to strike him and scream at him, but she managed it. “I didn’t like that, Colin. It was awful.”

  His heart was drumming in his ears. He was breathing so hard he thought he would burst with it. He felt as if he’d been flattened, and every minute of his flattening had been wondrous, beyond anything he could have imagined . . . . And she didn’t like it? It was awful? No, it couldn’t be true. He shook his head. He must have misunderstood her.

  He calmed his breathing. It took him a good deal of time. She remained quiet, not moving beneath him, and he imagined that he was heavy on her, but he didn’t move. He was still inside her, not so deep now, but the feel of her flesh made him shudder with pleasure and need. Finally he managed to raise himself on his elbows. He stared down at his wife.

  Unconsciously, he pushed forward and high into her, breaching her deeply, and she winced, gritting her teeth. He stopped immediately.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, but he wasn’t, not for what had happened, because he had enjoyed it more than he ever had in his life. “Your virginity, it’s past now, and there won’t be any more pain.”

  Her calm was cracking. “You lied to me, Colin. You said it would work. You told me to trust you.”

  “Naturally, I’m your husband. It did work, can’t you feel me? I’m supposed to be inside you. I’m supposed to spill my seed in your womb. It will be easier next time. Perhaps you will even enjoy it. You did somewhat this time, didn’t you?”

  “I don’t remember.”

  She didn’t damn remember? Ah, but he wanted her again. It surprised him and dismayed him. Surely he wasn’t a rutting savage to maul his innocent bride yet again. No, he wasn’t. He groaned, feeling her tight and hot around him. It was too much, it was more than a man with few wits left could handle. He stiffened above her and drove deep into her once more.

  She yelled at the shock and pain of it. She hit him with her fists, shoving against him, trying to throw him off her, but it only sent him deeper and he just kept driving, feeling her flesh convulse around him, driving him and pushing him, and he couldn’t stop himself. He heard her cries but he didn’t slow, he couldn’t, and again he climaxed, raw groans ripping from his throat.

  He was flat on top of her again, breathing hard, wondering what the devil had come over him.

  “How many times will you do that?”

  “I think I’ve stopped for a while. Joan, you’re not crying, are you? No, tell me you’re not crying. I’ll hold very still now, I promise.”

  Her voice came steadier, which relieved him, until he heard her say, “I do care for you a lot, Colin, but it will be difficult to bear this often. It wasn’t pleasant. I know we had to do it so that Douglas couldn’t take me back to London with him and annul the marriage. But now that you’ve done it, will you have to do it often?”

  He wanted to tell her that he could easily take her again, a third time, perhaps a fourth, but he held his tongue. He’d hurt her, and she had no idea of what pleasure could be. “I’m sorry,” he said, and slowly forced himself to pull out of her. He felt the pulling of her flesh, heard her whimper.

  “I’m sorry,” he said again, and disliked himself for apologizing like a damned parrot.

  “I don’t understand though.”

  “What don’t you understand?”

  “I always thought that Douglas and Alex—that’s his wife, you know. Well, I always believed that she much enjoyed staying with him in the same bed. And Ryder and Sophie, too, but now . . . perhaps it’s just kissing they enjoy, and the other, they must bear it, they choose to bear it because they love their husbands. But it’s difficult, Colin. I didn’t realize what it would be like.”

  “I told you that when I take you again you will enjoy it. I promise you that.”

  She clearly didn’t believe him, not that he could blame her, for hadn’t he just lost himself again, slamming into her when he knew it would hurt her? “I’m sorry,” he said for yet a third time. “I will make it up to you.”

  She lay there, sprawled on her back when he rose to stand beside the bed. There was his seed and her virgin’s blood on her thighs and on the white sheets. He leaned over her, and Sinjun, fearing the worst, yelled at the top of her lungs.

  Then, in the next instant, there was a hammering on the bedchamber door and Douglas was yelling, “What’s happening in there? Sinjun, what’s wrong?”

  “Move out of the way, Douglas, he’s killing her!”

  It was Ryder who flung open the door and burst into the bedchamber, Douglas on his heels.

  There was appalled silence. They stood there, their dressing gowns flapping around their bare legs, staring at their new brother-in-law, who was standing naked by Sinjun, who was sprawled on her back on the bed, but that was just for a flash of an instant, for in the next, she grabbed the covers and pulled them to her neck. “Get out!” she screamed at her brothers, so filled with humiliation she thought she’d die of it. “How dare you! Damn you both, get out!”

  “But Sinjun, we heard you yelling, screaming in pain—”

  She got ahold of herself. She didn’t think it was possible, but she did it. She even managed to smile at them, but it was wobbly and mean and utterly mortified. “Now, Douglas, I’ve heard Alex yelling her head off—many times, in fact. Can’t I yell as well?”

  “Yours wasn’t pleasure yelling,” Ryder said, his voice so cold she shivered at the sound of it. “Yours was pain yelling. What did this bastard do to you?”

  “Dammit!” Colin roared. He grabbed his own discarded dressing gown and shrugged into it. “This is bloody ridiculous! Cannot I have privacy in my own house? Yes, she yelled, damn you both to the devil. What the hell do you expect? She was a bloody virgin and I had to get through her bloody maidenhead!”

  Douglas looked at Ryder, then back at Colin. He roared
in rage and yelled at the top of his lungs, “You cunning bastard, you despicable savage, I’ll bloody well kill you this time, you lying sod!”

  “Not again,” Sinjun said.

  “Yes, again, dammit!” Ryder now, and his jaw was working he was so angry. “You were a virgin, Sinjun? You, who have been married to this damned heathen for how long now? Completely married, you told us? In all ways, you said. Well then, just how the hell could you still be a virgin? This rutting stoat doesn’t look like he’d wait for anything or anyone.”

  Sinjun pulled the covers around her and brought her legs over the side of the bed. Colin was looking like a dog ready for a good fight, bent forward, hands fisted, his eyes mean as a snake’s. Her brothers were coming closer and closer, just as ready to spill blood.

  “Stop it, all of you!” she yelled. Where was Angus with his damned blunderbuss? She jumped in front of her brothers. “No more, do you hear me? No more!” They were ignoring her, intent on bashing Colin. She spoke calmly now, colder than they’d ever heard her voice. “You will leave my bedchamber now, both of you, or I swear it, Douglas, Ryder, I will never speak to either of you again. I swear it.”

  “No, you can’t mean that,” Douglas said, paling.

  “You can’t know what you’re saying,” Ryder said, taking a step back. “We’re your brothers, we love you, we—”

  “I do mean it. Get out, both of you. We will speak of this in the morning. You have embarrassed me to my toes, both of you, and if—” Her voice broke off and she burst into tears.

  It was so utterly unexpected that both Douglas and Ryder rushed forward to her. Colin raised his hand and said quite calmly, “No, gentlemen. I will see to her. We will speak in the morning. Go away.”

  “But she’s crying,” Ryder said, clearly aghast. “Sinjun never cries.”

  “If you’ve made her cry, you bastard—”

  “Douglas, leave us alone.” Colin tightened his arms around his wife’s back.