“Yes, thank you,” Julianna said, crossing to her rosewood dressing table, one of the few familiar pieces of furniture in the bedchamber. “How is your room, by the way? Is it to your liking?”
The girl bobbed a curtsey. “Oh, yes. It’s quite comfortable and larger than my old one. I worry, though, that I won’t sleep tonight with it being so new and all.”
Yes, I suspect I may have the same difficulty, Julianna thought, wishing she was back in her own townhouse instead of here in Rafe’s.
Yesterday, he’d stopped by her home in Upper Brook Street for a brief visit, instructing her to choose whatever possessions she would like moved into his house in Bloomsbury Square. With a single sentence, he had quashed any lingering hope she’d harbored that he might allow her to continue living in her own home. Without stopping to think, she’d suggested he relocate to her Mayfair townhouse. Jaw stiff, he’d informed her that as of tomorrow her home would be with him.
“A wife belongs in her husband’s house, wherever that house may be.”
And so this morning, while she and Rafe were at the church being married, the servants had loaded her wardrobe, personal belongings, and a few select pieces of furniture into carts and moved them across the city. By the time she and her new husband had arrived at his townhouse this afternoon, all her belongings were installed.
What a peculiar experience it had been walking through the front door, her mind crowded with memories of her first and only other visit to the house. The first time she’d met Rafe.
So much had transpired since then, so much had changed. Nevertheless, she felt like a stranger tonight as she sat here in her new bedchamber. Attractive though it might be, with its white walls and deep blue draperies, the room carried none of the soothing qualities of her old room. Already she missed the delicate cream and jonquil–striped wallpaper, and the big scroll-armed chaise that had provided the perfect spot upon which to read or relax.
The windows here were in all the wrong places. The armoire was inadequately large. And although the bed was bigger than her own, it was not nearly as soft as her comfortable eiderdown mattress at home.
Over a very awkward dinner, Rafe had told her she had his permission to change any of the décor she wished. Another woman would have leapt at the opportunity, and the open pocketbook. Yet she wasn’t certain she wished to change anything. Once she began putting her own touches on the place, it would be an admission that this was her home. And futile as it might seem, she wasn’t ready to accept that fact.
Not yet, anyway.
“Pleasant dreams, Daisy,” she said. “I shall see you in the morning.”
The girl dipped another curtsey. “You as well, my lady. If you’re needing anything just call me, no matter the hour.”
Julianna gave her a smile and a grateful nod. “Good night.”
Once her maid was gone, she sank down on the stool in front of her dressing table and picked up her brush. Slowly, she drew the bristles through her hair.
Her thoughts turned back to the moment Tony Black had made his startling announcement, back to her sense of shock—and hurt.
Rafe should have told me, she thought not for the first time.
Obviously, he’d had time to tell his two friends, but he couldn’t take a few extra minutes out of his day to share such momentous news with her. Could not be bothered to mention that he’d met with Prinny and received the Regent’s sanction for a peerage.
And at what price, she wondered? Just how much had it cost Rafe to buy himself that title?
Of course she’d known instantly why he’d done it.
The baby.
The son he apparently wanted at all costs, even at the expense of his own freedom.
As she’d sat at the duke’s elegant table with its lovely wedding breakfast, she’d realized how little she mattered to Rafe. As the mother of his child, she had a place. As his wife, well, he would never have wed her for herself alone, and she would be wise to remember that fact.
She supposed she should feel relieved that she would be a baroness, feel happy in the knowledge that she would not be driven from Society as she had feared. Instead what she felt was anger, and even worse, pain.
Squeezing the brush handle hard inside her palm, she fought off her tears.
No, she vowed, I am done crying.
With a heavy sigh, she set down her brush, then stood and crossed to the bed.
A good night’s sleep will calm my mind, she mused. Everything will seem a bit more tolerable come the morning.
Slipping out of her robe, she draped the garment across the foot of the bed, then climbed between the sheets. With a sigh, she plumped the pillows and settled back.
She was about to snuff out the candle on her nightstand when she heard the door open.
Has Daisy returned? she wondered.
But when she glanced up, the person she saw was most definitely not Daisy.
Magnificent as a Greek sculpture brought to life, Rafe stood framed in the connecting doorway, a doorway she had erroneously thought to be locked.
Pulse quickening, she couldn’t help but stare, his large body draped in a black silk robe that hugged the taut contours and mouth-watering angles of his masculine physique. Above the tie at his waist, she caught a V-shaped glimpse of his powerful chest. Below lay his firm, naked calves with their dusting of black hair, and lower still, his long, elegantly shaped feet.
When they’d been lovers, she’d seen him in far less. But somehow the sight of him in a robe was more seductive than nothing at all.
Forcing her heartbeat to slow, she averted her eyes and scooted upright against the pillows, smoothing the sheet and blanket across her lap. She was grateful now that she’d worn a modest nightgown, the buttoned placket covering her breasts, which had grown even larger since the start of her pregnancy.
He’s probably come to talk. A few minutes, she thought, and then he’ll go away.
“Yes, what is it, Rafe?” she asked in a crisp tone. “Do you need something?”
He quirked a brow. “Hmm, now there’s a question.” After a long pause, he continued. “How are you feeling tonight? Not queasy or anything? I couldn’t help but notice you didn’t eat much at dinner.”
Oh, so he is worried about the baby. I should have known.
She repressed a sigh. “I am fine. I wasn’t very hungry tonight, that’s all. This day has been long and tiring.”
There, she thought. I have told him what he wanted to know. Perhaps he will take the hint now and leave.
Instead, he strode farther into the room.
“I’ll ask Cook to make more of your favorite dishes,” he said, “so you’ll be tempted in the future. After all, it’s important that you eat and stay healthy.”
She frowned, then frowned harder when he walked up to the bed and stopped. Leaning down, he folded back the covers on the unoccupied side.
“What do you think you’re doing?” she demanded, her heart kicking inside her chest.
His vivid gaze locked with hers. “What does it look like? I’m going to bed.”
For a moment, she couldn’t speak.
Her eyes widened as his hands moved to the tie at his waist.
“Oh no, you are not. Get out!”
“You’re my wife. I will sleep in here.”
Clutching the sheets higher, she shook her head. “Sleep in your own room. You have a bed; I suggest you use it.”
“I may have a bed but I prefer sharing with you. Anyway, it’s our wedding night. Did you really expect me not to come to you?”
“Frankly, yes. The last time we were together you informed me you were bored.”
An arrested look passed over his face. “I changed my mind.”
“Well, so have I. I no longer want you. Now, leave my room.”
His eyelids lowered and he shot her a smoldering look that made her bare toes curl with heat.
“Are you certain of that?” he murmured. “Why don’t I join you so we can find out wh
ether you still want me or not.”
“I don’t. Go away, Rafe.”
He reached again for the silken belt and freed it. But when he shucked off the robe, she saw he wasn’t naked—at least not completely, his lower extremities covered by a pair of snug, knee-length drawers. The cotton did nothing to hide his erection, though, the material tented out in an explicit display of male arousal.
Just because he’s stiff as a truncheon doesn’t mean he really wants me, she admonished herself. Likely any woman would do in his present state, and I happen to be convenient.
When he set a knee on the mattress, she flung back the covers and leapt out of the bed. Putting several feet between them, she waited, spine straight, her arms crossed over her breasts.
Stretching out on his side, he sighed. “What’s this, now? Running from me? I know it cannot be due to a case of wedding-night nerves, since this is far from our first time together.” He held out his open palm. “I know you are angry with me, but I’d like to make it up. Come to bed and let me pleasure you. I promise you’ll like it.”
Oh, I’m sure I would like it, she thought, which was precisely the problem. She also knew that if she let go of her anger and resentment toward him, the only emotion remaining would be love. She wouldn’t be able to bear it then, not when she knew his affection was no more than skin deep.
Silently, she shook her head no.
He paused. “Are you sure? Perhaps you just need a bit of coaxing.”
Before she knew what he meant to do, he was up and off the bed. Catching her in his arms, he rocked her against him.
“Now, doesn’t this feel nice?” he murmured in a husky voice that gave her delicious, shivery chills.
“Let me go,” she replied with a calm she in no way felt.
“I will, after you give me a kiss. A man deserves at least a kiss on his wedding night, wouldn’t you agree?”
“No.”
“You used to be kinder. It’s just one kiss. What harm can there be in one simple kiss?”
Plenty, she thought, when Rafe is doing the kissing.
Still…
“One kiss and then you’ll go?” she questioned.
He nodded. “If that is what you want.”
Warning bells clanged inside her head, her instincts telling her to refuse, to hold steady and make him walk back out the way he’d come in.
Another little voice began to whisper, urging her to take the tiny scrap of pleasure he offered. His arms felt so wonderful curved around her, his scent and strength everything she remembered. Everything she missed.
How could she deny herself?
As he said, what harm can there be in one simple kiss?
Besides, it might be a nice bit of revenge. Grabbing a handful of delight for herself, then pushing him away.
“All right, but only one,” she said. “And we stop when I say.”
His lips curved, eyes darkening like a forest at twilight. “Of course.”
Without further preamble, he bent his head and placed his lips upon her own.
On a shivery sigh, she let the pleasure take her, his touch even better than she remembered, more erotic than her most heated fantasies, more delectable than the finest satin or the choicest wine.
Breathing him in, she gave herself over to the kiss, knowing there would be only this one, knowing suddenly how much she needed it, how deeply she craved Rafe’s touch. Refusing to stint, she closed her eyes and let him draw her deeper, relishing every fiery taste and silken sensation.
She shuddered, her body suffused with heat.
God, it’s so good, she thought, so wonderful. How can I possibly stop? But I have to and now, while I still have the strength.
Yet even as she began to move away, Rafe shifted her in his arms and angled his head. Slanting his mouth across hers, she felt him take the kiss deeper, careful never to break contact as if he hoped to stretch this single kiss into infinity. And as she floated on a cloud of bliss, she wondered if he just might manage the trick. And if she would let him.
The world narrowed, growing smaller and smaller until there was only herself and Rafe.
His hands began to move, gliding and caressing, stroking her curves and gently kneading her flesh. Arching like a cat being pet by her master, she turned into his embrace, welcoming it, welcoming him.
She didn’t know when or how, but suddenly her feet were no longer touching the floor, her body aloft as Rafe carried her across the room.
The soft feather tick enveloped her as he bore her down onto the bed, his mouth amazingly still fastened to her own, making her quiver as his tongue swirled around her own.
She could barely think as he lay over her, so big, so powerful, his touch an imprint that went all the way to her soul.
Then, when her thoughts were starting to turn muzzy from lack of oxygen, he freed her lips. Her mouth throbbed, hot and swollen from his thorough feasting. Aching and hungry for more.
Kissing her cheeks and temple, her ears and neck, he kept her enthralled, even more so as his hands glided again over her frame, seeking and finding all her most sensitive spots.
A draught of cool air brushed across her skin as he unbuttoned her nightgown and peeled back the garment to expose her breasts. She nearly jumped out of her skin, tensing when he covered one of her nipples with his mouth and began to draw upon her.
“Oh!” she cried out, stiffening as a disturbing mix of pleasure and pain radiated through her.
His head came up. “What?”
“It hurts. I…I’m sore.”
He paused. “The baby?”
She nodded, that single word enough to drive some of the passion from her mind, to clear her foggy senses.
What am I doing? How could I have let things go so far?
She didn’t want to stop, the deep ache between her legs begging to be assuaged. But if she let Rafe stay now, she would have to let him stay again tomorrow night and the night after. She would have to let him come to her as often, and for as long, as he had need.
And what if his need ceased? What if he once more grew bored and turned his back? If she let him into her bed and into her body, only to watch him discard her yet again, she knew some part of her would break, and perhaps even die.
He had used her once. She could not afford to let him use her again.
“Stop.”
Rafe cocked his head. “What?”
“Stop. You’ve had your kiss, now go.” Aware of her naked breasts, she reached down to cover herself.
He caught her hands before she could close the bodice. “I couldn’t have heard right. Did you say stop?”
Unable to meet his gaze, she looked away. “Yes. I’ve had enough.”
His expression turned dark. “I know you want me. If I reached under that skirt, I’d find you wet and more than ready. And as for me, I’m hard as a freshly dug tuber.”
Bending down, he tried to kiss her.
She turned her head so that his lips only grazed her cheek. “You said you would stop.”
His jaw tightened. “I did, but surely you’re not going to hold me to that promise now. You are my wife, Julianna. You belong in my bed.”
“I am sure many would agree, just as they agreed we should be wed. You forced me into this marriage. Are you going to force me to service you as well?”
She shivered, recoiling at the fury that blazed in his eyes. For a moment, she imagined she saw more, glimpsed hurt and disillusionment shimmering in his gaze. Then the look was gone.
With a growl, he flung himself away and off the bed. “Have it your way, madam, and don’t imagine I’ll be back. I hope you enjoy your cold, lonely bed.”
Stalking toward his room, he walked through the connecting passageway and slammed the door, the wood rattling so hard she thought the frame might crack.
Shivering, she curled on her side.
I did the right thing. She thought. So why do I feel so empty? Why does it feel so wrong?
Closing her eyes, she st
arted to weep.
An overly large blot of ink bled into the foolscap beneath Rafe’s pen, obliterating several of the words he’d already written above.
Hell and damnation! he silently cursed, reaching out to crush the ruined paper in his fist. Flinging it toward the fireplace, he watched the wad roll, then bump up against another trio of previously discarded attempts.
With deliberate care, he set down his pen. I can’t concentrate, he thought, and it is all her fault.
To his recollection, he couldn’t recall ever being so angry, at least not with a woman. But after Julianna’s heartless behavior, how could he be otherwise?
He’d gone to her room last night with the intention of gently wooing her, showing her with tenderness and care that despite his past words and actions his desire for her remained strong. The passion between them had always been explosive, and he’d been counting on using mutual need to rekindle their relationship and forge what he hoped might be a new, and even deeper, bond. After all, they were now husband and wife. Last night but the first of countless evenings to come.
Yet she’d been skittish and defensive from the start, ordering him from her room before he’d even had a chance to get near her. After an admittedly slow beginning, however, he’d thought things were going well.
Even now, he could feel the almost concussive delight of having her lips moving under his once again. Experience the heady bliss of holding her close in his arms, so warm and lush, so Julianna.
Once he’d carried her to the bed, he’d lost himself in the moment and in her, savoring each sensation, relishing every touch. And she’d been enjoying herself, too. He knew she had.
Yet abruptly, she’d turned cold.
He’d been dying for her, his body diamond hard and throbbing with need when she’d told him to stop. The effort to comply had been wrenching. Yet it was the venom of her words that had bitten most deeply. Accusing him of forcing himself upon her, of attempting to violate her with no regard for her feelings or wishes.
My Fair Mistress Page 27
