The girl shrank back, her eyes wide and dark, but made no real effort to escape as he joined her on the high bed. Releasing her wrist, Gervase rolled over and covered her slight body with his own hard, muscular frame, pinning her against the mattress while he pulled up her shift.
Her figure was scarcely more than a child's, quite unlike the lushly feminine type he preferred, but in his present mood of mindless fury Gervase didn't care. She was female, and he was in the mood to take the traditional revenge for a woman's treachery. The bitch would pay for what she and her father had done. She was, after all, his wife, and just this once he would claim a husband's rights.
At first she was passive, her legs separating easily, the thin body shifting beneath him as she gasped words too muffled for him to understand. Perhaps she was excited. Gervase neither knew nor cared; he had never had less interest in pleasing a partner. All his anger was concentrated into vengeful lust, and with one hard thrust he forced his way inside her.
Her dry, tight passage resisted, and penetration hurt him, but his pain was minor compared to hers. Mary Hamilton jerked violently and screamed, her shrill anguish assaulting his ears from mere inches away.
He clamped one hand over her mouth to stop the outcry, his rage pierced by a horrified realization of what was happening. Her teeth tore at his hand, but it was too late to cease what he had begun. His body was out of control and in a dozen furious strokes he finished.
As his seed spilled into her, his anger splintered and dissolved. Gervase had never before had sex with a virgin, but he knew enough to recognize what he had done. There was blood on him as he withdrew, and he was sickened by the knowledge that whatever Mary Hamilton's other crimes might be, she had never before lain with a man.
His wife's blank apathy had been shattered, and she shook with racking sobs as she wrenched herself away from her tormentor, her body convulsing into a tight knot of slender limbs.
His head whirling with sick vertigo, Gervase rolled onto his back and threw one arm over his eyes as he gasped for breath. In the ashes of fury lay guilt and disgust as reason reasserted itself. He had behaved no better than an animal, abusing a helpless female. The girl had conspired to entrap him and was doubtless a slut at heart, but she did not deserve this kind of revenge.
When his dizziness subsided he sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and burying his face in his hands as he shuddered with self-contempt. Feeling unutterably tired, he raised his head and contemplated the girl he had married.
Though inexperienced with virgins, he saw that action was necessary, so he stood and picked up a linen towel from the washstand. After folding it, he handed it to her and said curtly, "Put this between your legs and press your thighs together." She stared through her tangled hair, then took the towel in a trembling hand and did as he bade her.
Drawing the blankets over the girl, he realized how very young she was, perhaps only fourteen. When her father put her to this scheme, had she known what marriage meant? Or did she think this just a game that would get her jewels and fine clothes?
"Look at me." Though Gervase's voice was neutral and free of inflection, she cringed away. He reached down for her chin and turned her face toward him. The girl was completely broken, without even the spirit to close her eyes against him.
Wearily he said, "Stop crying, I'm not going to do anything more to you. Listen carefully, because I will say it only once. I don't ever want to see you again. My lawyer is John Barnstable and you can write to him at the Inner Temple in London. I will inform him of this hell-born 'marriage' and he will arrange for you to receive an allowance. It will be a generous one, and you and your father can live in comfort on my money for the rest of your life. But there is a condition."
The girl's dark eyes were still dull. Exasperated, he asked, "Do you understand what I am saying? Surely you speak English." Many of the island Scots spoke only Gaelic, though he would expect the daughter of a clergyman to have some education.
When her head nodded, he continued with icy precision. "I never want to see or hear from you again in my life. If you ever come near London or any of the St. Aubyn properties, I will cut off your allowance. Am I making myself clear?"
Again she nodded faintly, but as Gervase studied her with narrowed eyes, he realized with shock just how strange her face was. The girl wasn't normal; there was a slackness in her expression, and something indefinably wrong about the eyes.
The child he had raped was simple, too crippled in mind to understand what her father had arranged for her.
Releasing her chin as if it were a hot coal, he stood up, lifting down nausea as he grasped the extent of the crime he had committed. To force a scheming young virgin was despicable, even though she was legally his wife. To rape a creature too afflicted to know why she had been abused was a sin as unforgivable as the one he had committed when he was thirteen.
With cold, shaking hands he dragged his clothes on, wanting only to escape this hellish place. The girl had curled into a tight little ball on the bed, the only sign of life her strange, unfocused eyes.
Since an incompetent was hardly likely to remember his words, Gervase reached for the ink and pen that had been used for the marriage lines. On the back of one of his cards he printed his lawyer's name and address, then wrote, Hamilton: Don't ever bring her near me again. She may not use my name. After a moment's pause he added, Take care of her well. When she is dead, you will receive nothing more from me.
That should ensure the girl decent treatment from her father, since it would be in the man's best interest to keep her safe and healthy. She had smelled clean; perhaps her father already had some kind of keeper for her. A full-time nursemaid must cost almost nothing in this godforsaken part of the world.
Gervase stood, placing the card on the table. The girl was shivering, so he took a moment to rummage in the wardrobe for a blanket. She cowered fearfully away as he spread the blanket over her. His mouth tightened at the sight; it was no more than he deserved.
Her dark unfocused gaze followed him to the doorway, where he paused. His legal wife was like a frightened woodland creature frozen in panic as a predator waited. His throat tight with guilt, he whispered, "I'm sorry."
The words were more for his benefit than hers, since she seemed to have no idea what was happening. Though he had never had grounds to believe in a benevolent Deity, Gervase prayed she would soon forget what had happened. He knew better than to hope that he would do the same.
DEARLY BELOVED
~
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A New York Times, Wall Street Journal, and USAToday bestselling author, Mary Jo Putney was born in Upstate New York with a reading addiction, a condition for which there is no known cure. Her entire romance writing career is an accidental byproduct of buying a computer for other purposes.
Her novels are known for psychological depth and intensity and include historical and contemporary romance, fantasy, and young adult fantasy. Winner of numerous writing awards, including two RITAs and two Romantic Times Career Achievement awards, in 2013 she was named as the RWA Nora Roberts Lifetime Achievement Award winner.
Her favorite reading is great stories, but in a pinch she’ll settle for the backs of cereal boxes. She’s delighted that e-publishing can now make available books that have long been out of print.
www.maryjoputney.com
Table of Contents
Cover
Foreword
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
/> Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Historical Note
Excerpt from DEARLY BELOVED
Meet the Author
Mary Jo Putney, Uncommon Vows
(Series: # )
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