“Yes, well, I am a font of worthless information,” he answered.
“You must have been a delight to your professors. Did you attend University?”
“Oxford. I was sent down during the Michelmas term during my last year.”
He said it without inflection. Curious, Caroline asked, “Do you regret it?”
“What? Doing the deed, or getting caught?”
“Not finishing.”
He paused and studied the sky. “Sometimes.”
His eyes flickered to her, and he grinned. “But it was worth it. Had a professor, a wretched fellow by the name of Blecher, who was a pompous jacka—fool. Absurdly proud of his mustaches. Always stroking them and curling them. Idiotic things were out to his ears. He was vain, but worse, he was a vicious chap, always saying the most humiliating things to us and all the while he would laugh in this twittery little voice. One day, he went after a certain fellow I happened to like very much. Said some things about his mother. Well, this fellow’s mother had died the previous term, and much to my friend’s shame, Blecher’s words made him cry, right there in front of all to see.”
“What did you do to him? Blecher, I mean,” she inquired.
“Snipped off his mustaches while he slept. Would have gotten away with it, too, if I hadn’t acted on impulse and glued the things to his portrait in the dining hall. Got caught and that was that.”
“Were your parents very upset?”
He got a strange look on his face. “My mother hardly cared about it. She was happy to have me home, actually. But my father was.deeply disappointed.”
Something somber drew his features into an odd look. The impulse to reach out and touch his arm was hard to resist.
He lifted a hand to indicate the low angle of the sun. “We should be getting back for tea.”
They were late, as it happened, and Caroline’s mother despised tardiness. However, it took Magnus only five minutes to charm her until she was laughing and blushing like a schoolgirl.
When the earl said it was time for him to take his leave, Audrae tactfully excused herself.
“You were civil to my mother.”
“Of course I was. Despite your opinion of me, I am not a barbarian.”
“That is not my opinion,” she said.
“Oh? Then I see I have been too tame.” He came to her chair and, taking her hand, drew her to her feet. “I hope I have not left you with any misconceptions. Now, come and kiss me goodbye.”
She started at his boldness. He chuckled. “In less than a week, we shall share more than that, Cara. Having second thoughts?”
“No!” she declared a little too vehemently. He was close; she found it difficult to breathe. And his hand resting high on her waist, just under her breast, was giving off a scalding heat.
“It was a pleasant day, Cara mia. I can’t remember the last time I spent such carefree hours.” Long, tanned fingers touched her jawline, making her shiver. “I enjoyed showing you the mysteries of the castle ruins.”
There was some vague knowledge that he was toying with her, trying to shock her perhaps. Despite his tender courtship today, she must remember Magnus was the infamous Earl of Rutherford, of whom she had heard so much ill.
“It was an excellent outing, Magnus. I thank you.”
“Pretty words, Cara, but I was thinking more along the lines of your showing your appreciation.”
Her heart lurched, but before she could think of anything suitable to say, he had slipped his hand to the slender column of her neck and dipped his head. When his mouth touched hers, it was not gentle, though neither was it an assault. His lips moved lightly, eliciting a pleasant yearning inside her which was too frightening to indulge. A tangled coil of delightful sensation tingled in her belly and her knees buckled. Magnus caught her up with his other arm, pressing her much closer than was proper, but she didn’t resist. She gripped his massive shoulders, her palms wanting to explore the broad expanse and feel the way his powerful body moved.
Slanting his mouth, he deepened the kiss, opening her lips to the intrusion of his tongue. Stunned, reeling, she gasped a short intake of breath when it touched hers. He made a low, soft sound in response, causing her to shudder with some indefinable sensation.
His lips broke contact with hers, but he held her still pinioned against him. “In three days’ time, I will take you to bed with me, and you might as well know I find you a very desirable woman, Caroline.” His voice was husky. Distracting tremors raged through her body, leaving her limp, devoid of will or thought. “I am looking forward to making love to you. And judging by your kiss, you are anticipating it as well.”
He must have felt her stiffen, for he grinned. “No, do not get prissy on me. Whatever bit of pleasure you felt at my kiss is nothing to the feelings you will experience that night.”
Aghast, Caroline tried to pull away. He held her tight, then suddenly released her so when she yanked back, she stumbled into her chair where she landed with a plop.
“One more thing,” he said, “We shall outfit you completely once this wedding business is out of the way.” He leaned over, fingering the collar of her jacket where it was just starting to fray.
At this new humiliation, spoken on the heels of his outrageous promise of pleasure, Caroline was certain her color was a deep shade of burgundy. She didn’t even attempt to speak, for her mind seemed too shocked to function.
Gathering his hat and driving gloves, he cast over his shoulder, “Until then, Cara mia.”
She didn’t move for a long time, sprawled rather haphazardly on the chair with her mouth agape, until her mind began to recover. An image surged into her brain of a tiger she had seen once, languishing gracefully in its cage. It had been so beautiful, she had longed to touch it, feel the softness of its fur. Then, angered by some missile tossed in its cage by an imbecile in the crowd, the beast leapt to its feet, its eyes suddenly deadly, and gave off a low, threatening growl. The vision of those teeth had awed her. Something of the same feeling filled her now. Her future husband was like the tiger. Beautiful, appealing and at times harmless, as he had been by the ruins. Always, there were tragic underpinnings; a great beast caged by his mysterious illness. Yet there was a deadly side to him, one he would unleash at the slightest inducement. She would do well to remember this.
The only question she could not settle was: what had she done to provoke him?
To Magnus’ mind, the tempting piece he had chosen to wed had done plenty. Nothing intentional, nothing criminal, but so very disturbing all the same. Today, on the old castle motte, with the past all around them, she had made him forget. Not just the illness. Everything.
Like old companions, his demons were familiar baggage. Today, they had eased their terrible burden in the presence of Caroline Wembly. But not for long and not forever. They had, as they ever would, returned with a vengeance.
Which was only part of the problem. The most unforgivable thing was how she had made him anxious all week in anticipation of seeing her again. And how the bottom had fallen out of his heart when he had glanced up the stairs and seen her looking indescribably lovely, even in that ridiculous outfit the most conservative Puritan would eschew. Most unpardonable was how she had taken such innocent delight at their outing, reclining in the sun and making him wish the day could go on forever.
He did not have forever. And he wasn’t courting her, damn it all. Theirs was a business arrangement. Nothing more.
The woman was only marrying him because he had one foot in the grave. The chit wanted his money, nothing more.
And he. He wanted a child. It was so simple. Ridiculously simple.
He must keep that in mind.
Chapter Six
Magnus was painfully aware of the curious faces of the folk lined up in the pews. Thus, when Caroline was escorted down the aisle of the village church, resplendent in a stunning cream silk confection and smiling brilliantly on the arm of his brother, Magnus made a great show of gazing tenderly at his
bride. For the sake of the smattering of guests, he appeared besotted, but he had already made up his mind to steel his heart against Caroline Wembly’s dangerous appeal.
Caroline’s strange indigo eyes studied him as he repeated his vows sotto voce. He kept his own gaze cool when her soft, slightly husky timbre promised herself to him. Until death do us part.
He kissed her briefly, reining in the urge to linger at the softness of her lips. When he pulled away, something flashed in her eyes—a sadness, perhaps? Did she regret her bargain already? Then David, who had doubled as his best man, wanted to shake his hand, and Magnus turned away.
At the reception afterward, he was studiously attentive, introducing her to the vicar and his wife, the local squire—an insufferable boor who possessed, oddly enough, a pert, pretty wife who seemed to adore the man—and some other minor landholders from the area. Caractacus Green was there, staring from under his hooded eyes as if the entire matter were distasteful in the extreme. David, of course, was his usual sociable self, elevating the mood to one of high gaiety. Even Audrae Wembly smiled and chatted comfortably. Frowning, Magnus realized Caroline’s brother was not in attendance. When he asked her about it, she shrugged. “He is shy, and boy enough to think all things having to do with marriage are utter foolishness.”
“Do you know, I have never met him?”
Caroline sipped lightly from her champagne flute. “Really? Your invitation didn’t include him when you came to the Ordinary, so I suppose Mother assumed he wasn’t invited.”
“No, not at all. It was just an oversight. Ah, Grenville, how are you?” Distracted by the well-wisher who came up just then, he dropped the matter of his wife’s absent brother.
The guests did not stay late, for which Magnus was grateful. He grew weary of the role of doting bridegroom. More accurately, he was an anxious bridegroom. With his new countess so close, her subtle perfume was like a siren’s song in his head. He was consumed with anticipation.
Devil take it, he felt warm. Loosening his cravat, his eyes searched out Arthur. The servant caught his eye and frowned. Magnus shook his head. Not yet.
He strode to the open window, inhaling the fresh air.
Please, no, not tonight. He had never staved off an attack before, but if sheer dint of will would do it, certainly now would be the time. To his utter relief, he began to feel cooler. He flashed his manservant a quick smile and a nod to indicate the alarm had passed.
Probably just overheated from inhaling that damnable scent. What was it, anyway? Some kind of spicy concoction, nothing cloying or flowery. Completely unique. And sensuous.
He had better stop this train of thought. His temperature was rising again.
Off in a corner, he spied Caroline with her mother. Audrae was speaking in urgent tones to which Caroline nodded solemnly.
Something about the tender scene angered him. No doubt, the elder woman was giving the traditional “Submit, be meek and don’t complain when it hurts” lecture properly prudish brides get just before the rending of their virginity.
If she was nervous about the night to come, he was not any less so. Having plenty of experience bedding women, Magnus was not at all unconfident. The women whom he had known, however, all possessed a quality his blushing bride did not. They were willing. Caroline Wembly—nay, Eddington—was not. She was merely granting him access to her body, not out of desire or for the purposes of pleasure, but singularly for the begetting of a child. In exchange for money.
What a harsh thought. He was brewing up a foul mood. Caroline was no different than every aristocratic bride since the dark ages and beyond. Marriages of the upper class were always about money or power. That their arrangement was a bit more baldly stated than most did not make it any less honorable.
Pulling aside the housekeeper, Mrs. Gervis, he instructed her to invite the new countess to retire. Then he strode into his library and shut the door, leaving his guests to take the unsubtle hint and leave.
Caroline had not had time to purchase a suitable nightgown for her wedding night. Luckily, her best and prettiest was still in good state. It had been freshly laundered and the few flaws carefully mended. Laying now across the bed, it awaited her as Lillian, an upstairs maid just promoted to attend her, brushed out her hair.
“My goodness, ma’am, yer hair is luv’ly. So thick and smooth it is. Bee-yoo-ti-ful color. I don’t think I ever seen the like, ‘cept what come out of a bottle.” After a moment of horrified realization, Lillian rushed, “I wasn’t sayin’ yers come from there. Anyone can see it’s nat’ral.”
“I knew that, Lillian,” Caroline answered with a smile. “It’s a lovely compliment. Thank you.”
Blushing, Lillian nodded. She helped Caroline into the nightdress, fluffing the pale blond hair attractively about her mistress’s shoulders when she had settled her in the bed.
“The master, he be comin’ soon. G’night, ma’am.”
After the door closed, Caroline sat in silence, wondering how long she would have to wait until Magnus arrived.
She wasn’t dreading the act of sexual intercourse. Her mother had explained it thoroughly, and though it seemed more than a bit distasteful—not to mention embarrassing—she was fully prepared. So, why was her heart beating quick and hard, like the flutter of a bird’s wing?
The sound of a door shutting in the adjoining room warned her that Magnus had entered his chamber. Only moments later the connecting door between their suites opened.
He stopped in the doorway and stared at her. She sat among the pillows, clutching the coverlet to her breast, with her back perfectly straight. Belatedly, she thought of offering a welcome. She forced a smile.
Holding a decanter of some deep amber liquid in one hand and two stemmed glasses in the other, Magnus nearly took her breath away. Never had she seen a man appear more.elemental. He had removed the ebony studs from his shirt, so the cuffs and collar hung loosely, baring his forearms up to his elbows and his chest almost to his navel. Dark skin showed, brushed lightly with a furring of smooth, black hair. He still wore his shoes and breeches, thank goodness, keeping him from true dishabille, but the remnants of formality did nothing to civilize the raw masculinity that seemed to fill the room with crackling tension within moments of his entrance.
All at once, those handsome features broke into a smile.and he laughed!
“You look like a damn lamb eyeing the butcher!”
Nothing could have cut her deeper. He thought her ridiculous! With the heedless swell of rage moving her limbs, she shot out of bed and squared off against him, hands firmly planted on her hips. “What a terrible thing to say to me, you brute!”
His eyes traveled an insolent journey from the top of her head to the tip of her toes, lingering on her breasts. Indignant, she snatched her wrapper to her. He shrugged and turned away, setting the glasses on the table and filling them. “I didn’t say that you don’t look positively delectable. Lamb is one of my favorite dishes. With mint sauce. Do you not recall our luncheon last week?”
So he was in one of his moods, wanting to goad her? As cowed as she had been moments ago, she was more irritated now. Sauntering up to him, she said tightly, “I remember our luncheon. You were kinder then.”
He turned, his green eyes gleaming as he handed her a glass. “Did you notice how I devoured every last morsel?”
She narrowed her eyes back at him. “Did you? Or did you merely push it around on your plate? Sort of toying with it?”
He flashed her a grin, showing that dimple that never failed to intrigue her. “You are observant, Cara mia. Will you drink with me?”
She raised her glass to his. Tilting his head back, he scanned the ceiling for inspiration. “Ah, let me see. To lust. Fruitful lust.”
Hiding her reaction, Caroline gently clinked her glass with his. “Hear, hear. A wonderful salute, Magnus. Inspirational, I would say, particularly to a nervous bride. So very kind of you to show such sensitivity, courteously dispelling my fears.” With a sweet
smile, she sipped. It was an excellent sherry. She sipped again.
He watched her, his eyes hooded. Once again he raised his glass. “I am duly chastised. Imagine that, wed less than a day, and already I have earned my first scolding. At this rate I shall be henpecked before the week is out.” Though he was still teasing, he had lost that dangerous edge. Again, as on many occasions in the past, she had the feeling he was mocking himself more than her. “And so I am redeemed.” Just before he sipped; he curled one corner of his mouth. “And your fears are dispelled.”
Astonished, Caroline realized he was correct. Anger had replaced trepidation.
He stared at her over the rim, pinning her in that way he had. He must practice, she thought distractedly. It was far too effective to come naturally.
Something shifted in the air between them, and an odd thought occurred to her. Playtime is over.
He reached out and took her glass from her fingers. After setting it out of the way, he took her hand in his and pulled gently. “What are you expecting to happen tonight, Cara?”
His left hand moved to her hair, lifting a handful and letting it fall in a cascade. Looking at the effect as if it were some fascinating marvel of science, he said again, “Tell me what you expect.”
“I—1” She had no idea why he was asking such a ludicrous thing. Deciding on boldness, she answered, “You shall h-have intercourse with me.”
His gaze didn’t shift as he continued to play with her hair. The effect was wickedly pleasurable, and Caroline’s eyelids started to droop. Slowly, Magnus shook his head from side to side. “Weren’t you listening when I promised you pleasure? I am not simply going to douse the light and lift your nightgown. What I shall do may shock you, it might embarrass you at first, but I assure you, you will come to enjoy it. I am going to make love to you, Cara.”
His eyes watched her tongue as she ran it over her lips, suddenly gone dry. He handed her her glass, and she downed the contents in a single gulp. Unable to keep the smug amusement from showing, he took the empty glass with a catlike grin playing at the corners of his mouth.
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