If he had one, Reign mused, he was certain it had been tarnished long ago by past sins.
An awkward silence filled the room while he went about the task of tending the coals in the small fireplace. It was cold enough to shrivel a man’s cock, but glancing discreetly downward, he discovered that his own was immune to the chill. It was a revelation that he was still semierect even after satisfying himself so thoroughly within Sophia’s slick, tight channel.
Reign set side the small shovel, idly wondering if Sophia would think him a beast for demanding his husbandly rights twice in one evening.
“There,” he said, standing. “In time, the room should be warmer.”
“With you beside me, I had not noticed the chill, my lord,” she said shyly.
He walked over to the opposite wall to a small table. “Reign,” he said absently as he picked up a Staffordshire jug and poured water into its matching shallow basin.
“I beg your pardon?”
Reign shot her an irritated look, but he was too far away for her to notice. He plunged his hands into the water and scrubbed the coal dust from his hands. “I have spent the good part of an hour pumping myself between your luscious thighs, Sophia. Marriage and intimacy gives you the right to call me by my given name.” He plucked a small towel from the table and wiped the moisture from his hands.
Sophia hugged her knees to her chest. The shadowed interior of the bedchamber made it impossible for him to see if his frank language had caused her to blush. “Yes, of course, my lord. Forgive me. Uh, I—Reign.”
He tossed aside the small towel and selected another. “An apology is unnecessary, my dear,” he said, feeling indulgent. He stuffed the towel into the jug and paused. “This marriage is foreign to both of us, and allowances must be made.”
“Of course, Reign,” she said meekly.
Reign snorted. Sophia, he was discovering, was anything but the meek creature she was pretending to be. He retrieved the towel and squeezed the excess water into the basin. With the wet towel dangling from his fingers, he returned to the bed.
Sophia slipped lower under the bedding. “Is that for me?” she asked, preferring to stare at his hand rather than his misbehaving cock.
“Yes.”
She wrinkled her nose. “I am not weak-spirited, Reign, or prone to a fit of vapors. I do not need a damp cloth for my head to recover from our lovemaking.”
“Indeed?” His mouth quirked in amusement. Perhaps his bride was as eager as he was to sample the carnal delights of their marriage bed again. “The towel, however, is not for your head.”
Her brow puckered in bewilderment. “Is it for you?”
Reign laughed at the absurd notion. “No.” He ignored her squeak of surprise as he pulled the sheet from her grasp and exposed her naked body. “The towel is to ease your soreness.”
Sophia’s face turned pink. “There is no need, my lord . . .”
“Oh, I insist, my lady,” he said, thoroughly enjoying himself.
Reign sat on the edge of the mattress beside her. His cock twitched and lengthened against his thigh. There was little he could do about his arousal. Being in Sophia’s presence tended to bring out the beast in him. “Be a good girl and part your legs for me.”
“This seems outrageous.” In a petulant manner, she straightened her legs and parted them as he had requested.
His jaw clenched. “I hurt you, Sophia,” Reign said, his humor fading when he noticed the smear of blood on her upper thigh. “Let me take care of you.”
Reign pressed the towel against her womanly cleft. Sophia sucked in her breath as the cool wetness caressed the sensitive flesh. “Does that hurt?”
“No,” she denied, shaking her head. “Reign, you did not hurt me.”
She was being too generous.
“There is blood on your thigh, Sophia.”
Reign removed the evidence with a swipe of the towel. “I have little experience with virgins,” he said in a rush of unexpected frustration.
Sophia covered his hand to still his gentle caressing strokes. “And I have little experience with husbands. Nevertheless, we both survived.”
Reign gave her a suspicious glance. “Are you mocking me, wife?”
Her half smile confirmed it. “A little, perhaps. Is that terribly wicked of me?”
“Yes.” Reign dropped the small towel, and lunged forward, caging her with his lean body. They were both acutely aware that the side of his rigid cock was resting against the nest of curls between her thighs. He bowed his head, letting their foreheads meet. “Teasing me has consequences, Sophia. Are you prepared to pay the price?”
Reign shifted his position so the head of his cock nestled in the opening of her sheath. Her body responded, coating his head and shaft, which deepened the penetration. All he wanted to do was thrust until she cried out his name again in pleasure.
Still, he waited.
Sophia wiggled as she pondered his question. The small movement brought him one inch closer to madness.
“Hmm . . .”
“Sophia?”
His wife was determined to torment him with her newly found power over him. If he was wise, Reign mused, he would nip this outrageous behavior before Sophia deduced that she could keep him out of her bed.
Sophia tilted her chin upwardly in a smug fashion and smiled at him. “Yes, my lord, I believe I am willing to pay the price.” She wrapped her hands around the nape of his neck and pulled his mouth to hers.
Reign did not need any further encouragement.
Such outrageous behavior should be rewarded.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Sophia awoke at the sound of the maid opening the curtains. She winced at the sunlight streaming in and turned her face away. There was a soreness between her legs that was not unexpected, considering how many times her husband had reached for her throughout the night. She lifted her head and glanced at the other side of the bed. It was empty.
Reign had left her.
“Good morning, Lady Rainecourt,” the servant said cheerfully.
“Good morning,” Sophia echoed, unable to conceal her uncertainty. She sat up, and then quickly fumbled for the sheet when she recalled that she was naked.
“My name is Hannah, milady,” the maid said, moving about the room with the enthusiasm of two people. “Lord Rainecourt sent me to you. He said that you would be needing a personal maid, since you were unable to bring your own, and thought I would do in a pinch. That is, with your approval, milady.”
“Where—” Sophia cleared her throat. “Where is my husband?”
Reign must have warned Hannah about his new wife’s ruined vision. The maid approached Sophia and stopped directly in front of her.
“His lordship is in the study, milady, attending to business.”
She rubbed her eyes and peered at the servant. Hannah was young. Sixteen would be Sophia’s guess. The girl barely had enough meat on her bones to be considered thin, but she was tidy and eager. Sophia prayed the maid was patient, too.
Sophia placed her hand over her grumbling stomach. “Has Lord Rainecourt had his breakfast?”
“Aye. It is almost midday.”
“Midday?” Sophia exclaimed, aghast. “I had no idea . . .”
“His lordship gave the staff strict orders not to disturb your slumber, milady,” Hannah said, oblivious to her mistress’s distress. “Would you prefer to have a tray brought to you or do you feel up to sitting in the breakfast room?”
Sophia struggled with indecision. She was now Lady Rainecourt and she did not know the first thing about being Reign’s countess. There was more to being a wife than what had transpired during the long hours after midnight. Sophia began to fidget, belatedly realizing that she was sitting in the middle of Reign’s bed. Had Hannah and the rest of the staff speculated on how Lord Rainecourt had exhausted his new bride?
“My walking stick?” Sophia blurted out in a panic. “Have you seen my walking stick?”
It had been forgotten
when Reign had swept her gallantly into his arms and carried her upstairs, she realized. She was unfamiliar with the layout of the town house. How could she go downstairs to the breakfast room without her walking stick? And what of Lucy? Stephan was cruel to deny Sophia her personal maid. Lucy had been her friend and faithful companion for years. How was Sophia supposed to go about her day without Lucy’s calm support?
Hannah searched the chair where Sophia’s dress and undergarments had been discarded. “It isn’t here, milady. But never you fret, I will have one of the footmen search the house for it.”
“I just need—” Sophia’s throat tightened, preventing further explanation.
The maid murmured a wordless sound that was meant to soothe as she clasped Sophia’s hands into her own. “There, there, my lady. Say no more. It has been an eventful day and a half, and I expect most brides suffer a bout of nerves when they find themselves in a strange house and a new husband to manage.”
Sophia smiled, her eyes bright with unshed tears. “You are too young to be so wise.”
“My mum had five daughters and six sons,” Hannah explained. “Seven of my elder siblings have married, so you are not the first bride I have seen sniffle into her handkerchief after the deed had been celebrated.”
Hannah gave Sophia’s hand an affectionate pat as she straightened. “I know just the thing.” The maid walked across the room and opened a wardrobe. “Aye, this will suit our needs.”
It was not until Hannah had returned to Sophia’s side that she noticed the dark green banyan in the girl’s hands. “His lordship won’t mind you borrowing this so we can get you settled in your bedchamber. Now give me your arm, milady.”
Sophia dutifully extended her arm. She glanced down at the sheet that she had clasped to her breasts and frowned. Lucy had always been the one to dress her. Of late, it seemed as if she was always undressing in front of strangers.
“Oh, there is no call for modesty between a maid and her mistress,” Hannah said, taking the decision out of her hands. The maid skillfully plucked the sheet from Sophia’s grasp, nudged her off the bed, and had Sophia’s naked body covered in Reign’s banyan before a single protest was uttered.
Hannah nodded, pleased with her efforts. “That particular shade of green flatters your complexion, milady,” she said, gathering up Sophia’s dress and undergarments. She squatted and peered under the chair to retrieve Sophia’s slippers. “If I may be bold—”
Sophia bit back a smile. “Your restraint until now has been remarkable.”
Unrepentant, Hannah chuckled. “My mum is to blame. More stubborn than seven mules, my da is fond of saying.” She shifted the bundle of clothes to her left arm and took hold of Sophia’s arm. “Once I have you settled in your bedchamber, I’ll have Cook send up a tray. The breakfast room can wait another day. Several trunks arrived this morning and it would be best if you were there to supervise the unpacking.”
Hannah was indeed a marvel. The awkwardness and panic Sophia had felt when she had awakened in Reign’s bed had been soothed away by the maid’s cheeriness and efficient manner.
“Hannah?” Sophia asked as they paused at threshold.
“Aye, milady.”
“My husband was correct when he said that you would do in a pinch. However, I will need someone at my side while I learn this house and my duties as countess of Rainecourt. My eyesight is appallingly dreadful, and I confess that I will probably be more demanding than most mistresses,” Sophia warned. “Do you want the position?”
Hannah squeezed Sophia’s upper arm as her head bobbed vigorously. “Aye, Lady Rainecourt. I was hoping that I was making a good impression.”
“I doubt anyone with your enthusiasm could make any other kind.”
At the tentative knock, Reign’s attention shifted from the ledger in front of him to the door of the study. “Enter.”
To his great pleasure, it was Sophia’s face that peeked from behind the partially opened door. He had not seen her since he had slipped from the bed early in the morning. It had taken all his restraint to leave her to her well-deserved slumber.
“Good afternoon, my lord. May I join you?” Sophia’s expression revealed her uncertainty over her welcome into his private sanctuary.
Reign rose from his chair and beckoned his new bride to join him. “Please.” He mentally chastised himself as he recalled Sophia’s poor eyesight. She managed well enough on her own, and he admired her independent nature. However, the house and his servants were unfamiliar to her and he did not want her to be injured because he had been careless. Sophia was his, and he intended to look after her properly.
Reign crossed the expanse between them, allowing his bare hands to slide down her upper arms in a soothing and intimate gesture. He smiled as she lowered her lashes in a shy manner he found endearing.
“Did you sleep well, Lady Rainecourt?” he queried huskily.
Sophia’s eyelashes fluttered open at the reminder that she was a married lady. “Y-yes, my lord,” she stammered, her gaze fixed on his left shoulder. “And you?”
“How could I not after being so thoroughly exhausted by your enthusiasm for our marriage bed.”
Sophia’s soft, inviting lips parted in surprise. “Oh.”
He had no desire to torment Sophia, so he led her over to the small sofa. “I slept well, knowing that you were safe and at my side.”
Reign blinked, taken aback that he had spoken the truth. He usually preferred to sleep alone. Beatrice’s pregnancy and unwelcoming temperament had kept him from his wife’s bed. After her death, he had taken numerous lovers, but his interest in each lady waned when his lust had been sated. He had not lingered in their beds unless he hoped to prolong their lovemaking, and he never allowed himself to sleep with a lady.
Until Sophia, he had not permitted himself to be that vulnerable to a lady.
“Come, my dear. Please be seated,” he said, sitting beside her. “It was not until this morning that I realized our marriage has deprived you of your personal maid. I hope Hannah will suffice?”
His wife nodded, though the corners of her mouth pulled downward. “Hannah was wonderfully kind and efficient, my lord. However, I miss Lucy. She has been by my side for years, and I do not know what I shall do without her.”
“Then I will bring her into our household,” Reign said, wanting to make her smile again.
“It is very kind of you to offer. However, Stephan knows how much Lucy means to me,” she said, looking defeated. “He will refuse to give her up, just to spite me for what I have done.”
Because I defied my brother and am now beyond his control.
Reign was not about to feel regret over stealing Sophia away from Ravenshaw. He and Henry were unworthy guardians. The realization that Ravenshaw would be furious by the news of Reign and Sophia’s marriage made his victory sweeter.
“Do not fret, my dear Sophia,” he said, removing the tear trailing down her cheek with a light kiss. “I will figure out a way for you to have your Lucy back.”
“Thank you, my lord.” Sophia gave him a tentative smile. “You have been so generous with me. I do not know how to pay—”
Reign put his finger to her lips. “Enough. You are my wife now. I am content with our arrangement. Let us not speak further of debts and obligations.”
He expected her to debate him. Her forehead wrinkled in silent frustration as Sophia fidgeted beside him. Reign braced himself for whatever argument she might put forth, but she surprised him by saying, “Very well, Reign.”
“Gabriel.”
Her blond curls tipped to the right as she tilted her head inquiringly. “My lord?”
Reign suddenly felt defensive as she peered intently at him. “Now that we are married, Sophia, it would not be unseemly for you to call me by my given name,” he said stiffly.
“I see.” She bit her lower lip as she quietly contemplated his command. “I must confess that when I awoke from my slumber, I realized that I did not know how to go about m
y day as your wife.”
“Despite my first marriage, I am woefully ignorant on how to be a husband,” Reign confessed, sensing the fear in her quiet confession. “There is no doubt that we both will make mistakes. Nevertheless, we can make this a good marriage, Sophia. I swear it.”
“Then we will figure this business out together.” Sophia took a deep breath. “If I may, I do have a question that has been on my mind for some time.”
“Ask it.”
“Does a husband expect his wife to kiss him in the morning?” Sophia asked, her eyes crinkling with amusement and mischief.
Reign responded with a wolfish grin. Sophia laughed as he pulled her into his arms and proceeded to demonstrate how much he approved of them kissing in the morning.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
“So the rumors were true.”
Sophia whirled around at the sound of Mr. Enright’s voice. Although it took her longer than most people to take in her surroundings because of her damaged eyesight, even she could deduce that the gentleman was unhappy. Much to her surprise, she realized that the last time she had spoken to Mr. Enright was the night of Lord and Lady Harper’s ball. After Reign had run the gentleman off, Sophia had initially hoped that Mr. Enright might approach her again so she could apologize for their abrupt parting.
Between the nasty dealings with her brother and her meetings with Reign, Sophia had almost forgotten about the gentleman.
Sophia curtsied. “Mr. Enright, it is so good to see you again.” She tried not to visibly wince as his firm grip squeezed the blood from her fingers.
“That remains to be seen,” Mr. Enright said enigmatically. “I have heard the most dreadful gossip, my lady, and I pray it is not true.”
Sophia’s throat tightened in response to the distress that she heard in Mr. Enright’s voice. “What have you heard?”
Had Mr. Enright heard tales of her outlandish behavior at Lord and Lady Bramsbury’s garden party? Reign had promised to ruin her so Lord Mackney would abandon his quiet ambition to marry Sophia, and Stephan was spared the humiliation of breaking his oath. Since Reign promptly married her after their dalliance in the Bramsburys’ lower terrace garden, even in the eyes of the ton, her sinful nature had been cleansed by the sanctity of marriage. Had Stephan stirred up mischief with Mr. Enright in an attempt to provoke her husband?
Till Dawn with the Devil Page 14
