Love Is Blind

  "I shall have my mother explain things to you," he decided. "If Lydia tries, just tell her to stop, and do not listen to anything she says."

  "Oh, no," Clarissa said with a firm shake of her head. "I would be too embarrassed to have your

  mother talk to me about such things. Besides, it would be a deliberate insult to Lydia, and I begin to think that there is more to pity about Lydia than to dislike her for."

  "I will not have Lydia scaring you with tales of blood and pain and--"

  "There will be blood and pain?" Clarissa asked with horror.

  "No," Adrian replied, silently cursing his big mouth.

  "Well, then, why would you say that? There is blood and pain! You just don't want me to know."

  "Dammit," Adrian muttered. Now he'd mucked everything up.

  "How much blood and how much pain, my lord?" Clarissa looked terribly anxious now. He cursed himself again.

  "Clarissa--" Adrian began, but she interrupted.

  "Nay, my lord. You cannot fob me off. I will know," she insisted, then just as quickly said, "Never mind, I do not wish to discomfort you. I shall ask Lydia the moment she and Father return tonight. Mayhap this will bring us closer together, and she and I can become friends."

  Dear Lord! Adrian sat up and said firmly, "I refuse to allow you to ask Lydia."

  "We are not yet married, my lord. You cannot refuse to allow me anything."

  Adrian's eyes widened at the unconcern she showed at ignoring him. "Do you intend to disobey me so nonchalantly once we are married?"

  "I fear I probably shall," Clarissa admitted, her tone apologetic. She then quickly added, "Though never nonchalantly--and only when I do not agree with whatever it is I am disobeying."

  A burst of laughter slipped from Adrian's lips, and she tilted her head curiously.

  'You do not seem angry, my lord."

  "Nay," he said. "In truth, I suspect very few women enter marriage intending to obey. I find it refreshing that you admit to it."

  "Oh." Clarissa shrugged. "Well, I do try to be honest, my lord."

  "Right." Adrian sighed, straightened his shoulders, and said, "If I tell you about it myself, will you leave off letting Lydia terrify you?"

  "Aye."

  "Well, then, I shall do my best to educate you," he muttered. Sitting back, he considered where to start.

  After several minutes of his thinking, Clarissa asked, "My lord? Are you not going to tell me?"

  "I'm thinking," he growled.

  And he was. He was racking his brain, trying to sort out how to explain things. This was not something he should have to explain. He was a man, dammit! Men did not explain sex to virgins. Or at least, they should not have to. But it looked like he was going to have to. It was that, or he could let Lydia make a nightmare of their wedding night.

  "Perhaps I can help, my lord."

  Adrian blinked at the suggestion, and turned to stare at her with bewilderment. "Help?"

  "Aye," Clarissa said, then added, "Well, I am not completely ignorant. I did grow up in the country and have seen stallions cover mares."

  "'Tis not the same tiling between a man and woman," Adrian said at once-but the comment had brought to his mind an image of doing just that--

  mounting her like a stallion. He could imagine the soft lines of her back, the curves of her buttocks, the--

  "Are you sure?" Clarissa interrupted his musings. "I once surprised the stable master when he had one of the milkmaids bent over a bale of hay in the barn, and--"

  "Oh, God, please stop." Adrian gasped as his mind made a leap, projecting an image of Clarissa in a milkmaid's dress, bent over a bale of hay, her skirt up around her hips and him pounding into her from behind.

  Banishing the image from his mind, he took several deep breaths, then corrected himself by explaining desperately, "It can be approached in such a manner, but not the first time. The first time 'tis better to approach it face-to-face."

  "Oh, I see," Clarissa murmured, and he was just breathing a sigh of relief to have the task over with when she asked, "Why?"

  Adrian cleared his throat. "Because the first time can be rather uncomfortable for you."

  "Was it uncomfortable your first time?" Clarissa asked.

  "No."

  "Then why must it be uncomfortable my first time?"

  It was a perfectly reasonable question, but Adrian had no intention of explaining. He couldn't. He didn't have a clue how to go about it, and didn't intend to try. Not until she said, " 'Tis all right, my lord. I shall ask Lydia," and reminded him of all his previous fears.

  Cursing, he sat up straight and said, "You have a . .. There is this ... Ask her," he finally ended lamely, and felt an immediate ass for doing so. It would have been easier to show her--easier than explaining, certainly. And another part of his brain, the part that had all the

  improper but fun ideas, pointed out that were he to show her here, tonight, he needn't fear her refusing to marry him next week; Clarissa would no longer have a choice, whether she was disgusted by his scar or not.

  "Like this?"

  "Hmm?" Drawn from his thoughts, Adrian glanced to the side to see that Clarissa had turned to face him on the bench seat.

  "Would we be facing each other like this?" she asked.

  "No, you'd be on your back, and I'd be over you," Adrian answered absently--but then he frowned as that picture filled his mind. It was an image of Clarissa lying on her back, face wreathed with excitement, her head twisting as it had the other night

  "Why must I be on my back?"

  Adrian blinked the image away and glanced at her, trying to concentrate on her question. "Well, you do not have to be. It can be done with me on my back and you on top instead." But that image immediately rose in his mind: him lying back on a bed, his hands covering and caressing her breasts as she rode him.

  "Are there many ways to do it, my lord?"

  "Yes." Adrian couldn't help but notice that his voice was growing deeper and huskier. All this talk was rather affecting.

  "What are some of these ways?" Clarissa asked.

  Adrian's mind was immediately swamped. He tried to banish images of all the ways he could make love to her, then cleared his throat and said, "Well, there are the ones I just mentioned; then there is one where I would be sitting up with you on my lap, or--"

  "Really?" Clarissa interrupted. "How would that be done?" *

  Adrian stared at her. His thoughts were a muddle, part of him wanting to just get the deed done here and now and ensure she would have to marry him, and the other part arguing that that was no way to get a wife, and that she deserved better than the discomfort of the carriage for her first time. Not to mention, there was the respect issue. It showed little respect to take a woman in a moving carriage.

  But really, his body didn't care about respect, or consideration. It didn't even care about trapping her into marriage. His body was just excited by all this talk, and it was urging him on.

  Without realizing what he intended, Adrian suddenly reached out, caught Clarissa about the waist, and lifted her onto his lap so that her knees rested on either side of his thighs.

  She gasped in surprise, her hands clutching at his shoulders for balance as she settled astride him. Her eyes went wide.

  "Like this?" she asked, sounding dubious.

  Adrian urged her closer until they were nearly chest-to-chest. His voice was husky, almost impossible to hear. "Yes. And ... you would move up and down."

  "Up and down?" Clarissa asked uncertainly. She hesitated, then raised herself up, lowered herself, then rose back up again. "Like this?"

  "Yes." Adrian watched her breasts rise and fall before his eyes--lowering to about mouth level, rising to eye level, then lowering again. Up and down, up and down. He licked his lips, watching the flesh of her breasts jiggle as she moved. If he leaned his head forward just the littlest bit, he might actually lick the tender flesh in motion before him.

  "This is hard," Clarissa commented.
r />   "Yes. I am," Adrian agreed, thinking she referred to his erection. Then he realized she was referring to the constant up-and-down motion, that it was a strain on muscles unused to the exercise, and said quickly, "I mean, yes, it is."

  "But we could not kiss like this, could we? With me moving up and down?" She sounded concerned about the fact. But then, Clarissa had already told him she liked his kisses.

  Catching her by the back of the head, Adrian drew her down to him. He covered her mouth with his, and thrust his tongue out to urge her lips apart before she could open them herself.

  Clarissa stopped moving and settled against his chest with a little sigh. Her lower body came to rest, warm and heavy, where his erection pressed firmly against his breeches. Adrian groaned, his body shifting beneath her, instinctively pressing upward against her. If he just slipped his hand down and rearranged their clothes, he could make her his now, Adrian thought. And the moment the thought was born, his hands reached down to find the hem of her skirt-- only to discover that she was kneeling on it.

  "What other ways are there, my lord?" she asked as he broke the kiss. He was glancing down, trying to see if he couldn't somehow get her skirt out of the way.

  Adrian hesitated, wondering at an answer, then suddenly surged forward. Clarissa gasped and held on for dear life. He set her on the bench seat opposite, landing on his knees between her legs on the floor of the carriage.

  "Oh. This is nice. We could easily kiss this way," Clarissa murmured, smiling widely.

  "Yes," Adrian agreed, reaching for the hem of her

  skirt. But that was when the carriage came to an abrupt halt. He was so startled, the small jerk sent him crashing to the carriage floor, pulling Clarissa down on top of him.

  Adrian groaned as pain radiated through him--her pelvis had impacted with his groin. Then he glanced to the door in alarm as it suddenly opened. Both he and Clarissa stared out at the footman, who gaped back with an expression that was at first startled, but quickly became amused.

  "Oh." Clarissa brushed her hair out of her face and smiled with embarrassment. "We fell off the seat."

  "Yes, my lady," the man said.

  Adrian caught Clarissa around the waist and quickly set her back on the bench seat, then scrambled upright and out of the carriage, trying for dignity and failing miserably. Once on his feet outside the carriage, he glared at the smirking footman, then turned back to offer Clarissa his hand to help her out.

  Despite not being able to see, Clarissa must have sensed that the footman was laughing, for she felt moved to say, "We were not doing anything, James. Lord Mowbray was just showing me some . .." She paused, a frown creeping over her face. She'd realized she couldn't really explain that either.

  "He was showing you some . . . ?" James prompted with an amusement that ensured this tale would be told in the servants' quarters this night.

  "Some ... thing," Clarissa ended lamely.

  "Ah. He was showing you some ... thing." James was nearly killing himself trying not to laugh. He nodded. "Yes, my lady. I am sure he was."

  Adrian scowled. His servants wouldn't have dared

  shown him such an attitude, he thought; then he sighed. Who was he kidding? They would have done as much and more. Good servants were so hard to find nowadays.

  "I believe we are to take you back now," the footman commented to Adrian as he began to walk Clarissa up the path.

  'Yes," he replied stiffly. "I shall just see her to the door."

  "Very good, my lord."

  "Very good, my lord," Adrian grumbled under his breath, wondering why the man even bothered pretending respect.

  "Thank you, my lord, for your instruction," Clarissa murmured as they paused by her front door.

  "Oh, I..." Adrian blinked as he noticed the state of Clarissa's hair. Half of it had fallen out of its bun, and now ran in a river of tangles down one side of her head. The other half leaned precariously in the other direction.

  Adrian sighed and reached up to release it all. Her silken locks fell around her face in waves, and looked quite lovely despite the tangles, he noted. They would look glorious spread out on his pillows.

  Adrian leaned down to kiss her, pausing only a hairbreadth away as the door suddenly opened beside them.

  Sighing, he stepped back and murmured, "Good night."

  "Good night, my lord," Clarissa answered, and she turned to enter the house.

  After Adrian watched the door close, he turned to make his way back to the carriage.

  *

  "My lady!"

  The door to her room burst open, and Clarissa blinked as she sat up in bed.

  "What is it?" she asked with alarm as Joan rushed into the chamber.

  "Your spectacles have arrived!" The maid sounded as excited as if they were her own.

  "Oh!" Clarissa whipped off her blankets with excitement. Joan, who had been rushing up to die bed, gasped. Clarissa heard a clack against the wall to her right, followed by a tinkling that made her freeze.

  "What happened?" she asked with dread. A small moan sounded from her maid.

  Joan hesitated, and when she spoke, her voice was choked. "Oh, my lady. You caught my hand with the edge of your blankets when you threw them aside, and you knocked the spectacles clean out of my hand."

  Clarissa's shoulders slumped. "They hit the wall, did they not?"

  "I fear so." Joan moved around the bed.

  Clarissa watched reluctantly as the maid moved to the wall and stooped to pick up her spectacles. When she picked up several somethings, and they clicked and chinked in her hand as she worked, Clarissa lowered her head to her hands with dismay. Her spectacles were in pieces. And it was all her own fault.

  "I am sorry, my lady," Joan murmured, and Clarissa glanced up to see the girl standing at the side of the bed, hands cupped before her, no doubt holding the shattered remains.

  "It was not your fault, Joan."

  "If I had been holding them tighter, or--"

  Clarissa waved the words away and shook her head as she stood. "It was not your fault. Now, help me dress please. Lady Mowbray is taking me to the modiste today for the final fitting of my wedding dress."

  'Yes, my lady. "Joan set the remains of the spectacles on the bedside table, and started to help her get ready to meet the day.

  Clarissa was quiet as they worked, her mind on the spectacles she'd just destroyed, and her clumsiness that had caused it. The situation was enough to depress her. She tried not to let it. Spectacles were replaceable. She could get new ones made, perhaps quickly even--but wished she had them now. At least, part of her did. The other part wasn't so eager. It might be silly, but Clarissa was worried about how Adrian would react once he saw her in them. Lydia had made such a big deal of her wearing the things, she found herself somewhat nervous at his reaction. Would he take one look at her in spectacles and head for the hills?

  Clarissa didn't really think he would, but really, there was nothing attractive about spectacles to her mind, and she wished she didn't have to wear them. "There you are, my lady," Joan murmured. The maid had been subdued throughout her ablutions and dressing, and Clarissa knew she was blaming herself for the accident. Which was just silly. It hadn't been anyone's fault, really. It had been an accident, like the many other accidents that had plagued her since Lydia had taken her first pair of spectacles away. "Shall I walk you down now, my lady?" "Yes, please, Joan," Clarissa murmured, and stood to take the arm her maid held out.

  The upper hall was empty. They didn't run into anyone on the way down, no one until they reached the main floor. And it was just her luck that Lydia happened to be walking up the hall as they arrived in the foyer.

  "There you are," her stepmother said, moving toward them. "Ffoulkes said your spectacles had arrived. Why are you not wearing them?"

  Clarissa felt Joan's arm tense, and she patted it reassuringly even as she said, "I fear there was an accident and I broke them."

  "What?" Lydia growled, and immediately turned on Jo
an. "How could you let this happen?"

  "It is not Joan's fault," Clarissa said firmly. "I knocked them out of her hands in my excitement at their arrival."

  "I should have been holding them more tightly," Joan said with distress, and Clarissa could have smacked her for speaking up. She was sure Lydia would have left her alone otherwise, but the maid's words brought Lydia's wrath down on her.

  "You stupid, stupid girl!" she snarled. "Pack your bags. I want you out of here at once."

  'Yes, my lady." Joan started to pull her arm from Clarissa's grasp, but Clarissa held her in place.

  "Joan is my maid, Lydia. I was going to seek permission to bring her with me when I marry, but as you are firing her, I guess I need not ask." She turned to Joan and said gently, "You really should pack, Joan. If you wish to come with me, you will need to."

  "She is not staying under this roof. She--"

  "Lydia!" John Crambray appeared in the door of the breakfast room, his expression grim. Obviously he'd heard everything and wasn't pleased.

  Lydia turned slowly, reluctantly, toward him. Her voice was sullen as she asked, 'Yes?"

  "Enough," Clarissa's father said firmly. "If Clary wishes to take Joan with her as lady's maid, then she is welcome to do so. Joan will stay here until Clarissa leaves, then accompany my daughter to her new home at Mowbray. It will ensure that Clary does not feel alone there."

  He turned his attention to the maid. "Do you wish to go with her?"

  "Aye, my lord, I would be honored," Joan said quickly.

  John Crambray nodded. "Then you would be best to start packing. The wedding is in only two days."

  "Thank you, my lord." Joan hesitated, and turned to Clarissa. "Do you need me any more, my lady?"

  "No. I shall be fine. I will just have some tea and toast while I wait for Lady Mowbray," Clarissa replied, patting her arm. 'You go start seeing to whatever you need to do ere we leave."

  "Yes, my lady. Thank you, my lady."

  Clarissa watched the girl's blurred figure hurry away; then she turned back to her father and Lydia. She hesitated uncertainly. Her stepmother stood still and silent, but Clarissa could feel the waves of anger rolling off her.

  "Come, Clary," her father said quietly. 'You shall need more than toast and tea if you have a day of fittings ahead."

  Nodding, Clarissa moved to join him in the doorway, thinking the whole time about Lydia. She suspected the woman had tried to fire Joan only out of spite. She wished she knew how to repair the rift between them. Lydia had appeared to resent her from