"You can’t refuse me any longer," murmured Alaric. He gently eased her down onto the couch, his lips still fastened to hers in a soul-searing kiss. Rowena gave a tiny wriggle of delight when he spread himself on top of her, crushing her into the velvet cushions. It was the most delicious sensation, and she gave a tiny gasp of pleasure when Alaric’s hand slid up under her skirts, easing up her calf to grasp her thigh. His hands felt like fire against her skin and she wriggled slightly as she recalled their previous encounter.
"What a shame you are feeling unwell, my dear. Perhaps you might feel better if you rested a moment."
Rowena heard the voice dimly, but did not connect it to herself until the door to the anteroom opened and the curtain was pushed aside. Charles Montfort and his fiancée, Miss Emily Mattingly stood in the opening, startled expressions on their faces. If she had not been so appalled she might have laughed at their open-mouthed stares. As it was, she jumped as though she had been struck by lightning and began to push futilely at his lordship’s broad shoulders.
Alaric looked up from Rowena’s panic-stricken countenance and into his cousin’s surprised face.
"Charles," he said casually. "And Miss Mattingly. Forgive our appearance."
"Alaric, what is going on here?" asked Charles, his voice stiff. Miss Mattingly looked away as Alaric unhurriedly pulled Rowena’s skirt over her bared leg.
Alaric stood up unhurriedly and then helped Rowena to her feet, a wicked look in his green eyes. Rowena glared back at him, her expression fierce.
"You will have to forgive us. We were overcome by the excitement of the moment. Lady Rowena has just consented to marry me." Alaric smiled down into Rowena’s astounded countenance.
Charles gaped at his cousin. "Alaric, is this true? You are to be married?"
"Certainly. I am the happiest of men. Lady Rowena has only tonight succumbed to my pleadings." Alaric brushed a speck of dust from his sleeve.
"Is this true, Lady Rowena?" Charles raised an eyebrow. "I am familiar with the feelings of your family towards my cousin."
Rowena pursed her lips. She would have loved to say firmly that she had no intention of marrying Lord Brayleigh, but Miss Mattingly was famous for being unable to hold her tongue. This story would be all over town by the end of the evening.
"I believe my family will be won over when they realize the depth of our affection," she said, shooting an angry glance at Alaric. "Your cousin is very convincing, Mr. Montfort."
Charles laughed easily. "There is no stopping Alaric when he wants something," he said jovially. "Permit me to wish the two of you every happiness."
Miss Mattingly stepped forward to embrace Rowena and offer her own good wishes. Rowena gave Alaric a furious glare over her shoulder, but he smiled blandly.
"Thank you," he said. "I am sure Lady Rowena will make me a comfortable wife."
The door to the anteroom flew open once again and Lady Bingham stood in it, accompanied by a formidable matron. She looked in eagerly, her eyes sharp. When she saw Alaric and Rowena, one smiling triumphantly, the other uncomfortably flushed, with Charles and Miss Mattingly in attendance, her face fell.
"Ah, Lady Bingham." Alaric’s eyes became steely. "You are the second to wish me very happy. I believe you know my fiancée, Lady Rowena Arlingby?"
"Engaged? You are engaged?" said Lady Bingham, her voice rising precipitously.
"Certainly." Alaric’s eyes narrowed. "You look unwell, Lady Bingham. Were you expecting to find someone else in this room?"
"No, no...Mrs. Macomber and I were merely looking for a place to rest," stammered Lady Bingham. Her eyes swept over Rowena, noting her disheveled state. "We wished to have a quiet chat."
Alaric turned his gaze to Mrs. Macomber, a well-known gossip. He bowed. "It seems many of us were seeking a quiet place this evening. I regret that you failed to find one. However, you will be glad to be among the first to hear of my engagement. Lady Rowena and I are delighted to announce we will shortly be married. Are we not, my dear?"
He looked down at Rowena, who bit her lip. Miss Mattingly was looking at her expectantly, and Mrs. Macomber was obviously agog, anxious to spread the news. As much as she would like to, it would not do to disavow the engagement now. She would have to find some way out of this tangle later. And, despite her feelings, the look on Marguerite’s face gave her a certain sense of satisfaction. The baroness was obviously furious.
"Certainly," she murmured. "Very happy."
Alaric squeezed her hand gently and tucked it through his arm. He bowed to the assembled company.
"And now, if you will excuse us, I believe Lady Rowena would like to share her joy with her aunt." He swept his prize out of the room, leaving a definite aura of triumph in his wake.
Rowena allowed Alaric to lead her into the ballroom, and then halted, pulling him up short. He looked down at her inquiringly.
"That was beastly of you," she said in a low voice. "How dare you?"
"How dare I do what? Rescue you from Voxley? Or preserve your reputation by announcing our engagement?" Alaric looked amused.
"You planned that," asserted Rowena. "You arranged for your cousin to find us."
Alaric grinned. "And if I did? You would have married me anyway, Rowena. I was merely speeding up the process."
"I told you I wouldn’t marry without love," snapped Rowena. "Do you mean to tell me that you love me?"
Alaric stiffened. "I believe I have expressed my opinion of that emotion. Suffice it to stay that I hold you in affection and esteem."
"That is not enough." Rowena’s voice was small. She had hoped that she might have received another response. When Alaric had announced to his cousin that they were to be wed, her heart had jumped despite herself. Surely he would not have gone to such lengths if he didn’t care for her. But now it seemed he was merely collecting her after all.
"It will more than suffice. Rowena, you must be aware that I am not much given to proposing marriage. I have decided that we shall suit perfectly, and that is the end of the matter." His heavy lids hooded his green eyes as he looked down at her, giving him a sinister expression.
"So I am to be just another of your possessions?"
"On the contrary, you shall be the most important of them." Alaric smiled in a way that made Rowena itch to slap him.
"I can break this engagement," she threatened.
"If you wish to cause an even greater amount of talk. Our friendship has been much discussed; our engagement will be even more entertaining to the ton. If it were broken, I would hate to think of what would ensue. A riot, perhaps."
Rowena repressed a smile. It would not do for him to think he could humor her out of her anger with him. "I cannot believe you went to such lengths to publicly compromise me," she complained, determined to point out his iniquities. "And I do think you might have done it without involving your former mistress."
Alaric shook his head. "Acquit me of such deviousness, Rowena. Charles was certainly in my plan, but Lady Bingham was a surprise. A not totally unexpected one, however. Haven’t you wondered what made Voxley so eager to be alone with you?"
Rowena stared up at him, realization dawning in her eyes. "Do you mean that she meant to find me with Voxley, not with you?"
Alaric nodded his head. "That would seem to be the case."
"How dreadful!" All thoughts of Alaric’s deviousness fled her mind, and she felt a cold fury directed at Lady Bingham. "What a mind that woman must have. Why would she wish to ruin me? What have I done to her?"
"You have captured me, Rowena; that’s something she won’t stand for." Alaric looked down at her furious violet eyes and resisted the urge to kiss her. "You will be the most envied bride of the Season."
"Except that I have no intention of being a bride," Rowena reminded him. "Don’t think I will allow you to manipulate me so." Rowena attempted to pull her hand from his arm, but he held it in place with no visible effort. "Believe me, Lord Brayleigh, our wedding day is yet far away."
Chapter 13
Four days later Rowena found herself being ushered into Alaric’s splendid house on Grosvenor Square by her bridegroom. She had just consumed a very pleasant wedding breakfast hosted by her aunt and uncle at their home, which had been attended by a large number of fashionable individuals. Prior to that she had been married by special license, in a private ceremony, to the Earl of Brayleigh.
She gave Alaric a sidelong look. He looked handsome and dignified as he spoke to the butler, and not at all flustered. She herself felt a definite sense of strangeness. From the moment Alaric had announced their engagement at the masquerade, control of her life had seemed to slip away from her and entirely into the hands of the man to whom she was now married.
Rowena frowned as he approached her. Despite the pleasurable feelings she knew he was capable of arousing in her, today she felt primarily a niggling sense of annoyance. Over Rowena’s vociferous protestations to the contrary, Alaric had quickly made Lady Belmont see the need for a speedy marriage, in light of the sensational circumstances under which he and Rowena had been discovered at the masquerade and the relentless gossip that ensued. Lady Belmont, between lamentations directed at her errant niece as to the folly of giving in to Brayleigh, and her certain future misery, had arranged for a lovely and entirely suitable wedding while Alaric had procured a special license, and lawyers from both sides attended to the settlements. Rowena was consulted not at all as to the particulars, which seemed to have been handled entirely by Alaric. All she had been required to do was remain silent and show up on the day of the wedding.
Needless to say, she had not remained silent, but had instead expressed her discontent with the situation numerous times to both her aunt and her fiancé. Neither of them had listened to her, however, her aunt telling her firmly that if she did not intend to marry Brayleigh she should not have allowed him to kiss her, and Alaric merely smiling at her smugly and telling her that he was certain he would make her an excellent husband.
In a moment of desperation she had contemplated fleeing London and returning to Yorkshire in order to avoid the marriage, but something had stopped her. She told herself that she did not wish to cause further talk, but perhaps it was the promise behind the sensuous kisses that Alaric pressed on her lips whenever he took his leave. Now, however, the deed was done, and Rowena was determined to regain some semblance of control over her situation. She followed Alaric politely when he dismissed the servants and led her into his library, but the look in her eyes when he turned to her boded no good.
"I hope you will be very happy here, Rowena. I have done my best to provide rooms that will be suitable for you, despite the short notice. Soon I will have my--our--housekeeper, Mrs. Pynchon, show them to you."
Rowena’s violet eyes challenged him. "And what if I do not care for them?"
"Then they will be made to suit your needs," said Alaric casually. He held out an elegant leather chair for her and then seated himself in another. "I wish everything to be as you desire, Rowena."
"If everything were as I desired, we would not now be married." Rowena’s voice sounded petulant to her own ears, and she flushed a little. It would not do to behave childishly; she needed Alaric to respect her as an adversary.
Alaric smiled. "You will very soon come to know how pleasant married life can be. I promise you that you will be happy, Rowena."
"And how do you know married life is pleasant, my lord? Have you so much experience?"
"None at all. I am merely very certain of my choice." Alaric placed the tips of his fingers together and regarded Rowena over them. She was very lovely in her cream lace gown, her gilt hair shining in the sunlight that filtered through the windows. He smiled at the thought of what was to come. "If you should change your mind, my dear, and would prefer to leave town for a honeymoon, I would be glad to oblige you. I have extensive estates in the south which are very pleasant, or we could go any other place that you might choose."
"I see no need for a honeymoon, as this is not a real marriage," said Rowena stoutly. She fidgeted with the satin bows that ran down the front of her dress. "That is something I wish to speak with you about, my lord."
"My name is Alaric. I made you free of it some days ago. And our marriage is very real," he murmured softly. A small frown creased his forehead. He had been aware that Rowena felt pressured into marriage, but had presumed that she would come to realize the necessity of it by the time the ceremony was performed. However, it seemed she was determined to be obstinate, while he wished she would accept the inevitability of their union.
After tonight, he reflected, she would feel differently. He had confidence in his ability to show her exactly how much more pleasurable the marriage bed could be than a coat on the ground. The thought made his blood run faster as he admired her clear violet eyes and the gentle curves of her figure. His hands itched to unfasten her gown now and make her his right there in the library. His desk would do nicely, he thought. But it would not do to alarm her. Despite their tryst in Lady Belmont’s garden she was still relatively inexperienced.
"Alaric then," said Rowena impatiently. "But as to our marriage, I cannot feel that my wishes were taken into account. I told you repeatedly that I did not intend to marry you."
"Did someone force you to the altar this morning? Were the words torn from your throat by force?" Alaric’s voice was cold.
"No." Rowena fussed with her ribbons again. "But I was made to feel as though I had no hand in the matter. You arranged it so that I had a choice between this marriage or certain scandal. Many would consider that no choice at all."
Alaric stood up and approached her. He loomed very large over her as she sat in the high-backed chair, and his bulk seemed to block out the sun that came through the tall casement windows. He reached out and pulled a couple of the bows she had played with open, exposing the top of her chemise. Then he placed one hand on either arm of the chair and looked down at her.
"You are being nonsensical," he said in a soft voice. "You have told me many times that you are an independent woman who makes her own choices. You are not one to be cowed by a little scandal. I know that you want me as much as I want you. No one forced you into this. Shall I remind you of why you want to be with me?"
He lowered his head towards her, his glittering green eyes focused on her trembling lips. Rowena jumped like a startled rabbit and tried to rise, bringing the top of her head into violent contact with Alaric’s chin. He cursed and stepped backwards, his hand clasped to his face.
"Oh! Oh, Alaric. I am very sorry! Are you hurt?" Rowena jumped to her feet and hurried towards him, her own hand rising to rub her injured scalp. He held up one hand to ward her off.
"I am fine, outside of my dignity, which is slightly bruised," said Alaric. "Whatever made you jump like that, Rowena? It’s not as though I’ve never kissed you before."
Rowena blushed at the memories he evoked. "That is exactly what I wished to speak to you about, my lord."
Alaric raised an eyebrow and continued to rub his chin. "You wish to speak to me about love-making?"
"Yes. Or rather, no. Not love-making exactly. But something having to do with it. I mean, yes. Our love-making." Rowena stopped abruptly, aware that she was making no sense.
"And what did you wish to say?" asked Alaric softly.
Rowena clasped her hands in front of her and regarded them seriously. "I believe that we should wait some time before we begin to have...marital relations."
There was complete silence after this statement and she peeped up through her lashes. He was regarding her gravely, his expression unchanged.
"Go on," he said.
Rowena gaped at him. "Go on?"
"There must be some explanation for this startling statement. Pray enlighten me."
Rowena hesitated. She had expected some sort of outb
urst from Alaric, not this calm and rather detached questioning of her reasons.
"As I was, in a sense, forced into this marriage, I think it very important that we become better acquainted before we move into a more intimate relationship," she said hurriedly. "I know so very little about you, my lord."
"Alaric."
"That is precisely the point," said Rowena. "I am not at all comfortable calling you Alaric. I do not see how you can expect me to...to...well, to be intimate with you."
Alaric laughed. "My dear, we have already been intimate, as you so delicately put it, and I imagine my name will come more easily to your lips each time I have you in bed with me."
Rowena flushed again and then frowned. "That is not the way to get to know one another," she persisted.
"On the contrary, it is the very best way of all." Alaric touched her cheek and allowed his hand to slide down to her shoulder. He felt a tremor run through her body. "You see?"
Rowena stepped back out of reach. "That is not fair, my lord. I am married to you, and you could force me if you chose. But I hoped for more consideration from you."
"Now you are being unfair, Rowena. I have always been considerate of you."
Rowena snorted. "Was it consideration of my feelings that made you publicly compromise me four days ago? I do not think so, my lord."
"It was necessary because of your obstinacy," said Alaric. "If you had agreed to marry me when I asked you, my hand would not have been forced."
"And so everyone is allowed one chance to give you what you want, and if they do not they are tricked, or forced, or herded into it? That is very arrogant of you, my lord." Rowena’s voice rose as her anger mounted.
Alaric sighed. "I have no wish to argue with you, Rowena. You are my wife, and husbands and wives owe one another certain...duties. I will expect no less from you."
"You can get what you need from your mistress," snapped Rowena. "You have no need of me. I will be an attractive wife, a sign of your victory over my family and an addition to your collection, as that appears to be all you want me for. But Lily can certainly meet your other needs."
A Collector's Item: Rowena's After Dark Regency Romance (The Arlingbys Book 1) Page 12
