“Rafael, please, douse the candles.”
Even as the words burst from her mouth, she was pulling away from him.
“Why?” His own breathing was ragged, but he also felt strangely apart from her. “I want to see you, all of you. Don’t become missish on me now, Victoria.”
“No. Please, Rafael, there is something I must tell you. Please, wait.”
His hand left her thigh and came to rest on her soft belly, holding her there, holding her still. He felt an awful foreboding. “What is it?”
“Something I should have told you before we married,” she said, her voice coming in small, gasping breaths.
He felt sick, and his belly cramped. Damn her, he knew what she would say, and hated her, himself, and Damien. His desire died a swift merciless death. He watched her jerk the nightgown over her stomach and legs, covering his hand.
Dammit, no. She couldn’t be a wanton, a slut, his brother’s eager mistress. Not Victoria, his innocent, utterly guileless wife.
He forced himself to say in a light, teasing voice, “What could you possibly have to tell me? Something that will make me despise you? Don’t be silly, Victoria.”
“I hope it will not. I was just so afraid of what you would think. I’ve been a coward. I’m sorry, truly.”
He couldn’t bring himself to look at her. Slowly he drew the silk over her breasts. Just as slowly he drew up and rose to stare down at her.
“Virgins bleed the first time,” he said, his voice distant.
Victoria didn’t understand what was happening. He’d left her. She looked at him and saw that his manhood was no longer swelled and eager, but was nestled in the black fleece of his groin. “I don’t understand,” she said, confusion in her voice and in her eyes.
“I didn’t want to believe it,” he said slowly, feeling more miserable than he had in his life. “I would have wagered my life on your honesty, on your innocence.” He laughed harshly, grabbed his dressing gown, and flung it on. “God, to think that I could be such a fool. You are a wild little slut, aren’t you? You should have had me douse the candles much sooner, my dear girl. Perhaps, just perhaps I wouldn’t have missed what I wouldn’t have been able to see for my own eyes.”
“I don’t understand. Surely it’s not all that awful. I couldn’t help it, truly, Rafael. Why are you so angry?”
“Dear God, would you have screamed and faked a virgin’s pain? You might have forgotten, though, you were so excited, so anxious for me to take you. There will be no comparisons, Victoria. Damn you to hell, you perfidious bitch.”
He turned on his heel and strode to the adjoining door. She stared after him, flinching when he slammed the door behind him.
Had Damien told him of her ugliness, made it sound worse than it was? What did he mean about comparisons, and blood, a virgin’s blood? She remembered clearly Damien’s look before he and Rafael had left for the study. What had Damien said to him?
Victoria suddenly felt very cold. She felt cold deep inside. It was her wedding night and her husband had left her. He’d told her she was beautiful, he’d caressed her until . . .
Her hand went to her left thigh, her fingers lightly rubbing the ridged scar. She felt suddenly unclean, her body an object to be despised. She had disgusted him, that was clear. But why? He hadn’t seen her leg.
Slowly she lowered her face to her hands but she didn’t cry.
“Are you ready?”
Victoria forced herself to look at her husband. Those were his first words since he’d slammed his door on her the previous night. She’d eaten her breakfast alone. She hadn’t even known where he was. Her husband, her loving husband who hated her.
“Yes,” she said only. “I’m quite through now.”
“Come, along, then.” He paused, taking in her pale face. Was she writhing in guilt for what she had done to him? Suddenly the fact that they would be alone at Honeycutt Cottage—for how long?—struck him as insanely funny. But what man wouldn’t want to be alone with such a passionate little slut? Except she is your wife. It occurred to him that he could have their marriage annulled. But what if she is pregnant with Damien’s child? The child would most certainly look like him, if it weren’t the picture of Victoria, and what court would grant him an annulment when there was a child in his image?
He cursed softly, turning away from her. He would strike her if he remained in the same room with her.
He heard her rise and push in her chair. He didn’t look back, merely walked out of the room and the inn. He mounted Gadfly, waiting for Tom to assist her into the carriage. At least he wouldn’t have to see her today.
He watched her walk toward the carriage, her head lowered. Tom was holding open the carriage door. Suddenly she looked over at him.
“Rafael?”
“What?”
His voice was impatient, and she heard the underlying anger. She shook her head. How could she ask him in front of Tom: Why do you suddenly hate me so? She shook her head, defeated. “Nothing.”
“Good.”
When he halted for luncheon, he simply led her into the inn and left her. It appeared that he despised her so much he couldn’t even bear to share a meal with her. During the afternoon she went from self-pity to rage. “He can’t do this to me,” she said aloud. “He’s behaving horribly. I won’t allow it.”
Although the marquess’s directions had been adequate, there were a number of roads that wound about without sign markers, and they didn’t reach Honeycutt Cottage until nearly six o’clock that evening. It was set back from the narrow country lane behind a black wrought-iron gate. The drive was lined with lime and oak trees. It was a charming ivy-covered Georgian house, two stories, with many chimney pots on the slate roof, and of a cozy size.
When the carriage pulled up in front of the double front doors, a woman emerged, wiping her hands on a voluminous apron.
She proffered Victoria a curtsy when she stepped out of the carriage. “My name’s Mrs. Ripple. And you are Mrs. Carstairs?”
How odd that sounded, Victoria thought with a mild shock. She nodded.
“You must be exhausted, you poor child.” She nodded toward Rafael, then continued, “Come in, my dear, and I will show you to your room. I just received word yesterday from the marquess. But everything is in readiness for you. Yes, your man is bringing your luggage.”
Victoria didn’t wait to see if Rafael would follow her. She assumed that he wouldn’t. She trailed after Mrs. Ripple up the narrow stairs to the second floor. At the end of the corridor the housekeeper threw open the door and announced that this was the master’s suite. Victoria’s eyes went to the large, stark-looking bed, and she shuddered. Mrs. Ripple kept up her enthusiastic monologue, and Victoria followed her into the adjoining bedchamber. It was very feminine, with quantities of pale blue ruffles on the spread and canopy. The furnishings were a combination of a soft cream and the same pale blue, the thick carpet swirls of blue and cream. Victoria regained a few wits, realizing that Mrs. Ripple had paused and was looking at her.
“I beg your pardon. What did you say?”
“You’re weary, my dear. Why don’t you rest? You and Captain Carstairs can dine in an hour. Is that all right?”
“Certainly. Thank you.” Anything was all right with her at the moment. She wanted only to lie down, close her eyes ,and stop thinking and feeling.
“Get up.”
The curt orders quickly penetrated and Victoria jerked awake to see Rafael standing beside her bed.
“It’s time to dine.”
His expression was implacable, his eyes as bright as polished silver. She shivered.
“Do you need Mrs. Ripple?”
“No.”
“I will see you in the dining room, then.” She watched him stride from her room.
When she entered the dining room, a very small, intimate room paneled with dark wainscoting, her husband was standing next to the table, a glass of wine in his hand.
He downed the rest of the w
ine in one gulp, motioning her to sit down. Very well, she thought, squaring her shoulders. No more cowering.
Unfortunately, she had to hold her tongue until finally Mrs. Ripple had left them.
“Beef?”
“Yes, thank you.”
“Potatoes?”
“Yes, thank you.”
“You didn’t change your gown.”
“No. I didn’t feel like it.”
“Stewed vegetables? Green beans, I believe.”
“No.”
“Your hair looks as if it hadn’t seen a brush in a fortnight.”
She opened her mouth, and he quickly cut her off. “I know, you didn’t feel like combing out the rat’s nest.”
Victoria forced herself to eat three bites of everything, though the beef was stringy, the potatoes half-boiled. She drank a glass of wine. Rafael said nothing and neither did she. She was ready for the offensive when Mrs. Ripple entered the dining room. She looked from one of them to the other, her gaze bright.
Victoria sighed, thanked the woman, and rose.
Rafael didn’t even look up.
“Good night,” she said, and marched from the room.
Fortunately, her anger didn’t have time to burn itself out. She heard Rafael’s footsteps not an hour later. She waited ten more minutes, then opened the adjoining door without knocking.
He was standing with his back to her, staring down at the sluggish fire in the grate.
“I have had quite enough of this,” she said in a clear voice. “For some reason that I can’t fathom, you now despise me. I have come to ask you if you would like to have this farce of a marriage annulled.”
Rafael slowly turned to face her. “Annulled?”
“That’s right. I can’t imagine spending much more time with a man who can’t bear my company.”
“It’s a pity, but I fear that our marriage can’t be annulled.”
“It can, most certainly.”
“I don’t believe I could prove that I hadn’t been intimate with you, madam. After all, you aren’t a virgin, and I doubt that even you, with all your glibness, could pretend that.”
She stared at him blankly.
“Are you also pregnant?”
“Are you insane?”
He sliced his hand through the air. “Stop it, Victoria. Stop your damned lies. How many men, besides my twin, have you bedded?”
She released a long breath. “So,” she said very slowly, “that is why Damien wanted to speak to you. May I ask what he told you, exactly?”
He said brutally, “He told me that you seduced him, that you were so eager he took you once in the portrait gallery, against the wall, that you were a slut, a wanton. God, madam, your eagerness last night proved it.”
She could only stare at him. Her tumbling thoughts straightened themselves out. So his rage of the previous night had nothing to do with her leg. He had believed his brother’s lies. She said aloud, her voice as cold as shards of ice, “So, because I wanted to become your wife, you thought me a slut? You believed your brother and his lies?” Suddenly she laughed, a raw, ugly sound that made him start. “You believed him because I was enjoying your caresses and kisses? It is too much, Rafael. Goodness, if I’d known, I would have shrieked and fought you and fainted. You’re a fool. You may keep half of my money. After all, I do have the protection of your name, as little as that means. I’m leaving tomorrow. I’m returning to London. I will see Mr. Westover. Good night.”
She turned on her heel and stomped through the adjoining door.
“You are in the same situation, Victoria,” he shouted after her. “You haven’t a bloody sou. Are you so damned ignorant that you don’t know that a wife’s money becomes her husband’s upon her marriage?”
She stopped in her tracks. She turned to face him. She said slowly, “I don’t believe you. It’s my money, not yours.”
“Believe it,” he said. “You are as poor as you were when you punished Damien by running from him. How much is it you still have? Fifteen pounds? I wager that won’t get you all that far.”
“I don’t believe you,” she repeated. No, she wouldn’t believe him, she couldn’t. It couldn’t be possible.
“I suppose,” he said brutally, “that you could sell your body. You are young enough and beautiful enough to find yourself a generous protector. Unless, of course, you’re pregnant. Are you with child, Victoria?”
Her fingers closed around a particularly ornate Chinese vase sitting in isolated splendor on a table. She saw red, whirled around, and hurled it at him.
10
It is not enough to aim, you must hit.
—ITALIAN PROVERB
Rafael ducked quickly enough to save his head, but not quickly enough to spare his upper arm. The vase struck hard and bounced off, shattering against the wooden floor.
He unconsciously flexed his arm, saying nothing. Victoria was standing rigid as a stone, her eyes on the floor, on the shards of vase.
He heard himself say very calmly, “You have an excellent arm and a good aim.”
“I wish I had a pistol.”
“If you did, and you had the gall to aim it at me, I would thrash you senseless.”
“A man’s threat,” she said harshly, “just as a man uses his strength to ravish an unwilling woman. You are all despicable. I had believed you different, more fool I. Good-bye, Captain Carstairs. You needn’t see me off in the morning.” She gave him a mocking little salute and turned the door handle.
“Don’t do it, Victoria.”
She simply shook her head, not looking back at him. Then, abruptly, he was behind her, his hand pressed against the door above her head. She stood perfectly still, knowing that sooner or later he would tire of this game of his and allow her to leave.
“I don’t understand you, Victoria,” he said, and she heard the bafflement in his voice. “My God, I didn’t believe anything Damien had spewed out, until . . .”
She said nothing. It should have occurred to her sooner, much sooner what Damien had done. After all, his slander had worked well with David Esterbridge. Why not employ the same device with his brother?
“You yourself told me. You said you had a confession, something you should have told me before we married. You don’t intend to deny that now, do you?”
“No, I don’t deny it,” she said dully, still facing the door. “I did have something to tell you. But it isn’t important now.”
He looked down at the top of her head, frowning ferociously.
“What would you possibly have to confess to me if not the fact that you weren’t a virgin? If you will recall, I was nearly to the point of initiating you into lovemaking. Initiating. God, that’s a jest on me, is it not?”
“So that is what you were talking about,” she said, more to herself than to him. “I did wonder. I didn’t understand.”
“Stop your infernal playacting.”
“I wish to go to my room now. I must pack my things.”
“I told you, you won’t get very far with a paltry fifteen pounds.”
“It isn’t your concern. I stole twenty pounds and you managed to steal fifty thousand. You have made yourself quite a bargain, Captain. Surely you should be content with your gain.” She shook her head and laughed. “I was the fool, an utter fool to believe you different from your brother.”
Something wasn’t right here, and Rafael frowned, again wallowing in confusion. He didn’t move his hand from the door. “I’m not like my brother,” he said finally.
“Are you not? He’s a ruthless, lying bastard. You chose to believe him rather than believe me, your wife. That tells me quite enough about your character, or lack of it.”
“Very well, then. If you weren’t going to confess your lack of virginity to me, what was your confession? What could you possibly confess that would have aught to do with anything, particularly in the midst of our lovemaking?”
“Be content, Captain. You are now a much richer man than you were but two days ago.
”
He felt primed for violence, his frustration was so great. He grabbed her shoulders and turned her savagely around to face him. “What was your confession?” He ground out the words, shaking her shoulders.
“Go to the devil,” she said very precisely and very calmly.
He frowned down at her. He said slowly, thoughtfully, “I can prove what your confession was or was not. I can prove to myself that you are a virgin. Or that you are not.”
“Don’t touch me, Rafael.”
“I am touching you. You are my wife. I can do just as I wish to you.”
He lowered his head and tried to kiss her, but she jerked away and his mouth landed in her hair. He grasped the knot of hair at her nape and held her. He kissed her hard, trying to force her mouth open.
She began to fight him, hitting her fists against his chest. When his tongue thrust into her mouth, she bit him. He lifted his head, anger and pain coursing through him. She was pale, taut, her eyes dilated.
“So, you are no different from your brother. You would force an unwilling woman. You’re an animal.”
She swiped her hand across her mouth to remove the feel of him, the taste of him, and he saw the disgust in her eyes.
Her action enraged him. “You little hypocrite. You were so wild for me last night, I doubt you will play the unwilling maiden for long. You felt only my fingers on you last night, not my mouth, not that you needed that, you were already so wet and hot and—”
She lost control. She drove her knee into his groin.
He gasped, stared at her, knowing the pain he felt now would soon be unbearable. “I wish you hadn’t done that,” he said before he groaned and fell to his knees, his hands clutching at his belly.
Victoria didn’t wait another instant. She was through the adjoining door, slamming it behind her. There was a key in the lock and she quickly turned it. Slowly she stepped back. She was trembling. She didn’t know how long she had stood in the middle of her bedchamber, not moving, when she heard him striding toward the outer door of his bedchamber. Her eyes flew to the door that gave onto the corridor, and she ran quickly to it. She turned the key just as she heard his footsteps stop on the other side.
Moonspun Magic Page 14
