“I fear so, my lord.”
His eyes were glittering as he looked up from the book in his hands. “This is the sort of thing you have been studying? This ridiculous nonsense espoused by a woman who was no better than a demirep?”
“Miss Wollstonecraft was not a … a demirep,” Sophy flared indignantly. “She was a free thinker, an intellectual woman of great ability.”
“She was a harlot. She lived openly with more than one man without benefit of marriage.”
“She felt marriage was nothing but a cage for women. Once a woman marries she is at the mercy of her husband. She has no rights of her own. Miss Wollstonecraft had deep insight into the female situation and she felt something should be done about it. I happen to agree with her. You say you are curious about me, my lord. Well, you might learn something about my interests if you read that book.”
“I have no intention of reading such a piece of idiocy.” Julian tossed the volume carelessly aside. “And what is more, my dear, I am not going to have you poisoning your own brain with the writing of a woman who, by rights, should have been locked away in Bedlam or set up in Trevor Square as a professional courtesan.”
Sophy was barely able to restrain herself from throwing her full cup of tea at him. “We had an agreement on the matter of my reading habits, my lord. Are you going to violate that, also?”
Julian gulped down the last of his tea and set the cup and saucer aside. He came toward her deliberately, his expression cold and furious. “Hurl one more accusation about my lack of honor at me, madam, and I will not answer for the consequences. I have had enough of this farce you call a honeymoon. Nothing useful is being achieved. The time has come to put matters on a normal footing. I have indulged you long enough, Sophy. From now on, you will be a proper wife in the bedchamber as well as outside it. You will accept my judgment in all areas and that includes the matter of your reading habits.”
Sophy’s cup and saucer clattered alarmingly as she sprang to her feet. The lock of hair she had pushed behind her ear fell free again. She took a step backward and the heel of her slipper caught on the hem of her dressing gown. There was a rending sound as the delicate fabric tore.
“Now look what you’ve done,” she wailed as she glanced down at the drooping hem.
“I have done nothing yet.” Julian stopped in front of her and surveyed her nervous, mutinous expression. His eyes softened. “Calm yourself. I have not even touched you and you already look as if you have been struggling valiantly for your sadly misplaced female honor.” He raised a hand and gently caught the dangling lock of hair between his fingers. “How ever do you manage it, Sophy?” he asked softly.
“Manage what, my lord?”
“No other woman of my acquaintance goes about in such sweet disarray. There is always some bit of ribbon or lace dangling from your gowns and your hair never stays where it is meant to stay.”
“You knew I did not have the trick of fashion when you made your offer, my lord,” she said tightly.
“I know. I did not mean to imply any criticism. I simply wondered how you achieved the effect. You carry it off so artlessly.” He released the lock of hair and slid his blunt fingers around her head, tugging more pins free as he went.
Sophy stiffened as he eased his other arm around her waist and pulled her closer. She wondered frantically how long it would take for the tea to have its inevitable effect. Julian did not seem to be at all sleepy.
“Please, Julian—”
“I am trying to do precisely that, my love,” he murmured against her mouth. “I want nothing more than to please you tonight. I suggest you relax and let me show you that being a wife is not really so terrible.”
“I must insist on our agreement …” She tried to argue but she was so nervous now she could not even stand. She clutched Julian’s shoulders to steady herself and wondered wildly what she would do if she had inadvertently used the wrong herbs in the tea.
“After tonight you will not mention that stupid agreement again.” Julian’s mouth came down heavily, his lips moving on hers in a slow, drugging fashion. His hands found the ties of her dressing gown.
Sophy jumped when the gown was slowly eased off her shoulders. She stared up into Julian’s heated gaze and tried to detect some sign of cloudiness in his glittering eyes.
“Julian, could you grant me just a few more minutes? I have not finished my tea. Perhaps you would like another cup?”
“Don’t sound so terribly hopeful, my sweet. You are only trying to put off the inevitable and I assure you the inevitable is going to be quite pleasant for both of us.” He deliberately ran his hands down her sides to her waist and then to her hips, drawing the fabric of the fine lawn nightgown close to her figure. “Very pleasant,” he whispered, his voice growing husky as he gently squeezed her buttocks.
Sophy began to burn beneath his intent gaze. The desire in him was mesmerizing. She had never had any man look at her the way Julian was looking at her now. She could feel the heat and strength in him. It made her as light-headed as if she had also drunk a cup of the herbed tea.
“Kiss me, Sophy.” Julian tilted her chin with his fingers.
Obediently she lifted her head and stood on tiptoe to brush her mouth across his. How much longer? she wondered frantically.
“Again, Sophy.”
Her fingers dug into the fabric of his dressing gown as she touched his mouth with her own once more. He was warm and hard and curiously compelling. She could have clung to him all night like this but she knew he would insist on much more than simple kisses.
“That’s better, my sweet.” His voice was growing thicker but whether it was from the effects of the sleeping tonic or his own desire was not clear. “As soon as you and I have reached a complete understanding, we are going to deal together very well, Sophy.”
“Is this the way you deal with your mistress?” she asked daringly.
His expression hardened. “I have warned you more than once not to talk of such matters.”
“You are always giving me warnings, Julian. I grow tired of them.”
“Do you? Then perhaps it’s time you learned I am capable of action as well as words.”
He picked her up and carried her over to the turned-back bed. He released her and she dropped lightly down onto the sheets. When she scrambled to adjust herself the fine lawn gown somehow succeeded in working its way up to her thighs. She looked up and saw Julian’s eyes on her breasts. She knew he could see the outline of her nipples through the soft material.
Julian shrugged out of his dressing gown, his gaze sliding along her body to her bare legs. “Such beautiful legs. I am sure the rest of you is going to prove just as lovely.”
But Sophy was not listening. She was staring at his nude figure in amazement. She had never before seen a man naked, let alone fully aroused and the sight was staggering. She had thought herself mature and well informed, not an unsophisticated girl who could be easily shocked. She was, as she had so often informed Julian, a country-bred girl.
But Julian’s male member seemed tremendous to Sophy’s reeling senses. It thrust aggressively out of a nest of curling black hair. The skin of his flat stomach and broad, hair-covered chest was drawn tight over sleek muscles Sophy knew were quite capable of overpowering her.
In the glow of the candlelight Julian looked infinitely male and infinitely dangerous but there was a strange, compelling quality about his power that alarmed her more than anything else could have done.
“Julian, no,” Sophy said quickly. “Please do not do this. You gave me your word.”
The passion in his eyes flared briefly into anger but his words began to slur. “Damn you, Sophy, I have been as patient as a man can be. Do not bring up the matter of our so-called agreement again. I am not going to violate it.”
He came down onto the bed, reaching for her, his big, strong hands closing around her arm. She could see his eyes were finally beginning to glaze and Sophy felt a shock of what must have been r
elief when she realized he was about to sink into sleep.
“Sophy?” Her name was a drowsy question. “So soft. So sweet. You belong to me, you know.” Long dark lashes slowly lowered, concealing the puzzled expression in Julian’s eyes. “I will take care of you. Won’t let you turn out like that bitch, Elizabeth. I’d strangle you first.”
He bent his head to kiss her. Sophy stiffened but he never touched her lips. Julian groaned once and collapsed back against the pillow. His strong fingers grasped her arm a few seconds longer and then his hand fell away.
Sophy’s pulse was racing with unnatural swiftness as she lay on the bed beside Julian. She did not dare to move for several minutes. Gradually her heartbeat steadied and she assured herself Julian was not going to awaken. The wine he had drunk earlier together with the herbs she had given him would ensure he slept until morning.
Sophy eased herself slowly off the bed, her gaze never leaving Julian’s magnificently sprawled form. He looked very fierce and wild lying there on the white sheets.
What had she done?
Standing beside the bed, Sophy gathered her senses and tried to think rationally.
She was not certain how much Julian would remember when he awakened in the morning. If he ever realized he had been drugged his rage would be awesome and it would all be directed at her. She must contrive to make him think he had achieved his goal.
Sophy hurried over to the medicine chest. Bess had once explained that there was sometimes some bleeding after a woman made love the first time, especially if the man was careless and less than gentle. Julian might or might not be expecting to find blood on the sheets in the morning. But it would tend to confirm his belief that he had done his husbandly duty if he found some.
Sophy mixed a redish concoction using some red-leafed herbs and more of the tea. When she was done she eyed the mixture dubiously. It certainly looked the right color but it was very thin. Perhaps that would not matter once it had soaked into the sheet.
She went over to the bed again and dabbed a bit of the fake blood onto the bedding where she had lain a few minutes earlier. It was quickly absorbed, leaving a small, damp, reddish ring. Sophy wondered just how much blood a man would expect to find after he had made love to a virgin.
She frowned intently and finally decided the amount of red-brown liquid she had used was not enough to attract much notice so she added some more. Her hand shook nervously as she leaned over the bed and a large amount of the imitation blood slopped over the edge of the cup.
Startled, Sophy stepped back and more of the liquid cascaded onto the sheets. There was now a very sizable patch of wet, stained bedding. Sophy wondered if she had overdone it.
Hastily she poured the remainder of the reddish concoction into the teapot. Then she blew out the candles and slid gingerly into bed beside Julian, careful not to brush against his heavy, muscled leg.
There was no help for it. She would have to sleep on at least a portion of the wide, damp spot.
FOUR
Julian heard the bedchamber door open. Hushed feminine voices exchanged words. The door closed again and then he heard the cheerful clatter of a breakfast tray being set down on a table nearby.
He stirred slowly, feeling unusually lethargic. His mouth tasted like the inside of a horse stall. He frowned, trying to remember just how much port he had swallowed during the course of the previous evening.
It was an effort to open his eyes. When he finally did so he was totally disoriented. The walls of his room had apparently changed color overnight. He stared at the unfamiliar Chinese wallpaper for a long moment as memory slowly filtered back.
He was in Sophy’s bed.
Julian eased himself up slowly onto the pillows, waiting for the rest of what should have been a very satisfying memory to emerge. Nothing came to mind except a faint, annoying headache. He scowled again and rubbed his temples.
It was not possible he could have forgotten the act of making love to his new bride. The anticipation had been responsible for keeping him in a state of aching arousal for too long. He’d been suffering for nearly ten days awaiting the right moment. Surely the denouement would have left a most pleasurable recollection.
He glanced around the room and saw Sophy standing near the wardrobe. She was wearing the same dressing gown she had worn last night. Her back was to him and he smiled fleetingly as he caught sight of a stray ruffle that had been accidentally turned under around the collar. Julian had a strong urge to go over to her and straighten the bit of lace. Then, he decided, he would take the dressing gown off altogether and carry her back to bed.
He tried to remember what her small, gently curved breasts had looked like in the candlelight but the only image that formed was one of dark, taut nipples pushing against the soft fabric of her lawn nightgown.
Deliberately he pressed his memory further and found he could recall a hazy picture of his wife lying on the bed, the nightgown drawn up above her knees. Her bare legs had been graceful and elegant and he recalled his excitement at the thought of having those legs wrapped around him.
He also remembered discarding his dressing gown as a sweeping desire kindled within him. There had been shock and uncertainty in Sophy’s gaze when she had looked at him. It had angered him. He had come down onto the bed beside her, determined to reassure her and make her accept him. She had been wary and nervous but he had known that he could make her relax and enjoy his lovemaking. She had already shown him that she responded to him.
He had reached for her and …
Julian shook his head, trying to clear the cobwebs in it. Surely he had not disgraced himself by failing to carry out his husbandly duties. He had been consumed with the need to make Sophy his, he would not have fallen asleep in the middle of the procedure no matter how much port he had downed.
Stunned by his incredible memory lapse, Julian started to push back the covers. His thigh scraped across a stiff portion of the sheet—a damp patch that had dried overnight. He smiled with relief and satisfaction as he started to glance downward. He knew what he would find and it would prove he had not humiliated himself after all.
But a moment later his sense of satisfaction gave way to appalled disbelief. The reddish brown stain on the sheet was far too wide.
Impossibly wide.
Monstrously wide.
What had he done to his gentle, delicate wife?
The only experience Julian had ever had with a virgin had been his wedding night with Elizabeth and with the bitter wisdom gained in recent years he’d had cause to question that one occasion.
But he had heard the usual male talk and he knew that in the normal course of events a woman did not bleed like a slaughtered calf. Sometimes a woman did not bleed at all.
A man would have to literally assault a woman to cause this much bleeding. He would have had to hurt her very badly to produce so much damage.
A queasy sensation gripped Julian’s belly as he continued to stare down at the terrible evidence of his brutal clumsiness. His own words came back to him. You will thank me in the morning.
Good God, any woman who had suffered as much as Sophy obviously had would not be in any mood to thank the man who had wounded her so grievously. She must hate him this morning. Julian closed his eyes for a moment, desperately trying to remember exactly what he had done to her. No incriminating scene appeared in his beleaguered mind yet he could not deny the evidence. He opened his eyes.
“Sophy?” His voice sounded raw, even to his own ears.
Sophy jumped as if he had struck her with a whip. She whirled around to face him with an expression that made Julian grit his teeth.
“Good … good morning, my lord.” Her eyes were very wide, filled with great feminine uneasiness.
“I have the feeling this particular morning could have been a great deal better than it is. And I am to blame.” He sat up on the edge of the bed and reached for his dressing gown. He took his time getting into it, trying to think of how best to handle the situatio
n. She would hardly be in a mood to listen to words of reassurance. God in heaven, he wished his head did not ache so.
“I believe your valet is ready with your shaving things, my lord.”
He ignored that. “Are you all right?” he asked in low tones. He started to walk toward her and stopped when she immediately stepped back. She came up against the wardrobe and could retreat no further although the wish to do so was plain in her expression. She stood there, clutching an embroidered muslin petticoat and watched him anxiously.
“I am fine, my lord.”
Julian sucked in his breath. “Oh, Sophy, little one, what have I done to you? Was I really such a monster last night?”
“Your shaving water will get cold, my lord.”
“Sophy, I am not worried about the temperature of my shaving water. I am worried about you.”
“I told you, I am fine. Please, Julian, I must dress.”
He groaned and went toward her, ignoring the way she tried to edge out of reach. He caught her gently by the shoulders and looked down into her worried eyes. “We must talk.”
The tip of her tongue came out and touched her lips. “Are you not satisfied, my lord? I had hoped you would be.”
“Good God,” he breathed, pushing her head tenderly against his shoulder. “I can just envision how desperately you hope I’m satisfied. I am certain you don’t want to face the thought of another night like last night.”
“No, my lord, I would prefer not to face such a night again as long as I live.” Her voice was muffled against his dressing gown but he heard the fervency of her wish quite clearly.
Guilt racked him. He stroked her back soothingly. “Would it help if I swear to you on my honor that the next time will not be nearly so harsh an experience?”
“Your word of honor, my lord?”
He swore violently and pressed her face more deeply into his shoulder. He could feel the tension in her and he had not the foggiest notion of how to combat it. “I know you probably do not place much stock in my word of honor this morning, but I promise you that the next time we make love, you will not suffer.”