"That would be fine," she responded amicably. "Mr. Manning, I don't know what you expect in a wife, but I must tell you, most mornings after breakfast, I spend my time in my bedroom catching up on correspondence."
"Connor. Please call me Connor now." He smiled. "I don't care what you do as long as my sister is trained in the ways of a lady, my meals are ready on time, and the house is run efficiently."
"You are going to give me the responsibility of your home?" she asked, surprised. She glanced at him, bewildered. "You really do want a wife?"
"Yes. Why are you surprised? Don't most wives run their husband's homes?" he asked, his gaze never leaving the road.
"Yes, but our marriage is different."
"I want our marriage to be normal in every way."
"I'm still reeling from the fact that we're married at all."
She turned away, staring out at the countryside fading into the approaching darkness. He watched as she slowly absorbed his words, fidgeting on the hard seat. Though they both had been nervous, the day had been almost perfect, and somehow she seemed more receptive than he had expected. Maybe, just maybe, he'd be in her bed before the night was over after all.
Alexandra drew herself together, and faced him. "Tell me about your home."
"What would you like to know?"
She paused and looked at him, her head tilted at an angle. "How long have you lived there?"
Connor pulled on the reins as they turned a corner on the dirt road. "All my life. My greatgrandfather built part of the house in the early 1800s. My grandfather made the plantation successful, built the family fortune, and enlarged our home."
They crossed a small wooden bridge, the horse's hooves making a clopping noise on the slats.
"But I thought most homes were burned during the Civil War."
"We lost everything but the north wing of the house and the land. Since then, it's been a slow road back to grander times."
He watched as she slowly relaxed against the cushions. Maybe, just maybe, everything was going to work out all right.
This was the first time they had been alone since the day he proposed, and he'd braced himself for a tongue lashing tonight. In fact, he'd almost wanted her to rant and rave at him for compromising her. Somehow he thought it might ease his conscience for his duplicity in forcing her to marry him.
But she had been pleasant, even congenial all the way home, proving she was a lady even in the worst of times. For a brief moment, he let his eyes slide down her face, past her bosom. She was beautiful, poised, intelligent, and was going to make him rich. God, she was everything a man could want in a woman. And tonight was their wedding night. Maybe he'd be a lucky groom after all.
With a sense of urgency, he turned down the lane that would take them to River Bend, and heard the bells chiming. As they rounded the bend, the shadows gave way to the oil lamps and candles that lit up his family home. He pulled the carriage to a stop in the circle drive before the house. The walkway was lined with the house servants and field hands, waiting to greet their new mistress.
Pride swelled within Connor. The sight of the people of River Bend waiting eagerly to meet the new Mrs. Manning brought a lump to his throat. Nate and Leona, the oldest of his servants, waited in front of the crowd to greet them. These people needed him to give them shelter and employment. These people depended on him. He had to do whatever was necessary, no matter how his conscience stabbed him.
Tying the reins, he jumped down and went around to help Alexandra out of the carriage. Placing her on the ground, he turned to Leona.
The older woman hugged him to her breast, tears streaming down her cheeks. "What a wonderful day this is. Mr. Manning, we're all so happy for you."
Connor couldn't help but grin. "Leona, meet the new Mrs. Manning."
Alexandra took the black woman's hand. "It's nice to meet you."
Leona clasped her hand, her gaze carefully examining Alexandra. "Lord, child, we have waited so long for this day. His mama would be so proud. You done good, Mr. Manning. You done real good."
Nate stepped up beside Leona, his lips spread in the biggest grin his black face could hold. "You took my advice and found yourself a wife."
Connor smiled. Let the old man think what he wanted. He moved aside to introduce Alexandra. "Mrs. Manning, this is Nate."
"How do you do?"
A toothless grin stretched across his whiskered face. "I'm doing just fine. We've waited years for this day."
Alexandra smiled. "It's nice to meet you."
They walked through the cluster of servants, receiving good wishes. Connor waited as Alexandra took the final steps up the porch and reached the door. When she reached his side, he swung her up into his arms, the blue silk of her skirt draped against his arm. With a gasp, she wrapped her arms around his neck, hanging on, her body stiffening in his arms.
"What are you doing?" she whispered.
The smell of lilacs tickled his nose, mingling with the scent he had come to recognize as Alexandra. He gazed down into her emerald eyes, and became entrapped in her world, as the sounds of the cheering servants came from far away. He licked his lips, eager to see what the rest of the night would bring.
With a languid motion, still lost in Alexandra's gaze, he carried her over the threshold and up the stairs to their quarters. "Welcome home, Mrs. Manning."
Alexandra glanced around the room that could be hers for the next fifty years. That is, if she decided to stay. She resisted thinking in such negative terms, but the past lingered into the future, killing her optimism and hope. She had less in common with Connor than she'd had with Gordon.
The ovalshaped room was decorated in Louis XV style with a large platform bed in the center of the room. A nervous tremor went through Alexandra.
Gold cutvelvet draperies adorned the windows and surrounded the bed, giving it an intimate feel. Savonnerie carpets graced the floor, and two Revivalstyle chairs faced the fireplace with a small table between. Above the fireplace mantel hung an ornately trimmed mirror, which reflected her anxious face. A big vase of freshcut flowers sat in the center of the mantel, along with a note from her husband that read simply, "Welcome home, C." It truly was a beautiful room for the lady of the house.
But Alexandra felt like an imposter. She wasn't the lady of the house. She was a struggling writer who wanted revenge against a man she hadn't seen in five years.
There were two doors in her room. One led to her bathing closet, and one, she knew, led to a sitting area adjoining her husband's bedroom. Only two doors separated her from Connor. Only two portals kept the master of the house from his lady. Two thin sheets of solid wood.
She ran her hand along a marbletopped commode. She knew he would try his hand at seducing her tonight, and though submitting was her wifely duty, Connor had agreed to her stipulation that their marriage be in name only.
But the man was just bullheaded enough to try to persuade her that consummating their marriage would be for the best. He was just arrogant enough to think she would succumb to his charms and persuasion. And she was just stubborn enough to show him that not every female found him attractive enough to shed not only her clothes, but also her morals.
The thought of him coming to her room tonight sent her searching through the marbletopped commode and wardrobe for the key that would lock the door. But her search was fruitless and she suspected the key was in Connor's possession.
Adorned in a new dressing gown that Aunt Clara had insisted she buy, she sat down on the bed, testing the feather mattress, waiting for Connor. Until this moment she hadn't realized just how tired the day had made her. The bed beckoned, and she leaned back to rest for just a moment. She stared up at the velvet canopy, and her body slowly relaxed, her eyelids drooping with sleep.
A rap on her door snapped her to attention just as Connor pushed the portal open with his foot. A slow, seductive smile stretched across his face as he stared at her. Hastily, she jumped from the bed, embarrassed at being caught so relaxed and vulnera
ble.
"How's the mattress? It's not too soft or too firm?"
A blush crept up her cheeks as she moved to stand before the fireplace, as far from the bed as possible. "No, it's just fine."
He came further into the room wearing a double breasted silk dressing gown tied with a single loop around his waist. In his hands, he carried a tray laden with two glasses and a bottle of champagne.
"I thought we should toast our new union before retiring for the evening," he said, a smile on his handsome face.
The cad was here to ply her with wine and charm in the hope she would consent to take a tumble with him. "How thoughtful."
Crossing the room to the small table with two chairs, he set the tray down and picked up the bottle of champagne. As he wrestled with the cork, the bottle emitted a loud pop, and he began to pour the bubbly liquid into the two crystal flutes.
The silk of her dressing gown rustled as she moved to stand beside him, the noise reminding her of how little she wore. How the material clung to the curves of her body like a lover. As he handed her a glass, his fingers lingered over hers, sending shivers of awareness through her.
His eyes were as warm as the noonday sun, their heat touching her with liquid fire as Connor took note of her attire. The air seemed to become stifling, her breathing laborious, as she felt his eyes upon her.
Raising his glass, he said, "To a long, happy union with my beautiful wife."
His blue eyes darkened to a crystal blue flame as their glasses clinked together. Alexandra took a sip of the champagne, the cool liquid soothing her parched throat. His words were a chilling reminder of how marriage should be.
"You looked stunning tonight," he said, his voice velvety soft.
Alexandra swallowed the lump that lodged in her throat. He was incredibly handsome, they were married, and he was here to test her willpower."Thank you." She reached up and touched her hand against her neck. "It's rather warm in here. Could we open a window?"
Connor smiled and put his glass down. Walking to the window, he drew the drapes open and pushed up the glass pane.
"That's much better," Alexandra replied, feeling the crisp air float into the room and brush against her heated skin.
Strolling back from the window, he propped his elbow on the mantel and resumed his perusal of her. His dressing gown gaped open to reveal a bare masculine chest. Her knees suddenly felt weak as she eased into one of the Revival chairs. Why was she drawn to him? Why did it have to be this rake?
"How do you like your room?" he asked.
"It's very nice," she managed to mutter as she tried to calm her racing heart.
He poured himself a second glass of champagne and tried to refill her glass, though it was only half empty. "No, thank you, I think I've had enough champagne for one night."
"Another glass to relax and celebrate our marriage."
"One is sufficient."
In silence, they sipped their champagne, the bubbles tickling her nose.
"There are two things I'd like to have added to this room," she said finally.
He raised his eyebrows questioningly. "What?"
"A small desk."
"There's one in the morning room you can use."
"I'd like to have it brought to my room."
"You don't want to sit looking out into the garden as you handle your correspondence?"
"No. I'd rather have it in my bedroom." A place where she would have control of her privacy. There were still four chapters to complete on the second book about Gordon. Four very telling chapters of their sadistic life.
He shrugged. "I'll arrange to have the desk moved in the morning. What else?"
Alexandra straightened her shoulders. "The key to my room."
Connor choked on the champagne before he directed a pointed stare at her.
"I gave you my word that I would not force my attention upon you. Don't you believe me?"
Alexandra glanced down at her hands before she looked up at the tightening expression on his face. "It would guarantee me privacy."
For a moment he stared at her, his eyes a steely blue that left no doubt about his feelings. "Most married couples don't have a locked door between them."
She set her halffinished glass of champagne down on the tray and stood. "But our marriage is different."
He sat his glass down on the tray and turned to face her, his eyes lingering on her lips.
The time to get him out of her room was now. "I think it's time to say good night"
Connor stood and took two steps toward Alexandra. He lifted a curl that lay nestled against her cheek. "You have the most exquisite hair. The color reminds me of burnished copper, with the softness of finest silk. I want to wrap my fingers in your curls and never let go."
Alexandra reached up to remove his hand. "Mr. Manning—"
"Connor," he said.
She pushed his hand to his side. "Connor, I'm really quite exhausted from the wedding."
He smoothed a curl away from her face, caressing her cheek with the back of his hand. "Just one kiss, and then I'll go."
The feel of his hand was exquisite against her skin. She wanted him to continue, but that frightened her. Alexandra raised her eyebrows. "I think not. A kiss is what started all our troubles."
He reached out and pulled her hard against his chest. She squirmed in his arms, and had to tilt her head back to look up as he put his finger under her chin, raising it to the level of his lips. "Do not deny me this one small pleasure on our wedding night"
In fascination and terror, she watched as his mouth lowered onto hers. The taste of champagne lingered on his lips as he covered her mouth, mingling with the spicy scent of his cologne. A sweet languor filled her limbs, leaving her weak, limp. She sagged against Connor, and he tightened his embrace. Moving his hands down her back to her buttocks, he pulled her against his lower body. His arousal was strong against her belly, and she moaned deep in her throat.
How easy it would be to let him satisfy this void that suddenly seemed to need filling. How easy to let him have his way on their wedding night. How easy to let him break her heart.
Connor's hand moved up and began to push aside her silken cover, searching for her breast. She put both hands between them and staggered away, trying to regain control of her traitorous body.
She must get him out of her room—now!
Reaching down, she picked up the tray and shoved it into his hands. Then quickly walking to the door, she pulled it open and stood waiting, her breathing ragged, her face flushed, her lips swollen from his kiss.
"Good night Connor," she exclaimed as he walked slowly through the door, a stunned look on his face.
***
His wedding night. Damn and double damn, but he was spending it alone in his bedroom with a halfempty bottle of champagne. At the ceremony, she had been pleasant. The ride home had been congenial, and somehow he had let his expectations rise, along with another part of his body, into thinking she had changed her mind about their sleeping arrangements. Obviously, that was not the case.
Connor knew she was attracted to him. She responded to his kisses, she trembled at his touch. So what held her back?
For a woman who had been accused of adultery, she appeared very careful about becoming enamored. Oh, they had kissed before, but both times, she had been reluctant at first. Not at all like the seductive temptress he had been led to believe she was. Yet, he was glad she had proven to be a puzzle. He was glad she was a challenge.
They had spoken of many things, but suddenly Connor realized he knew very little about her previous marriage. His friend, William, had relayed all Connor knew. Nothing from Alexandra. Could something from her first marriage be holding her back from giving herself to him?
Connor poured himself another glass of champagne. The bubbly sweet alcohol had given him a slight buzz, but he was still sober enough to know he wanted his wife. He wanted her in his bed filling his needs, his desires. Part of him even wanted to win her heart, as long as
he retained control of his own.
He drained his champagne. Connor was going to become the most attentive husband Charleston had ever seen. He was going to investigate Gordon Thurston. Find out just what kind of husband Gordon Thurston had been to Alexandra. What had he done to her to make her so reluctant to give her heart?
Chapter Six
The cock was crowing, the house beginning to stir, when Connor made his way up the stairs with a tray laden with pancakes, eggs, hot chocolate, and a single pink rose from the garden. If their wedding had been a formal affair, they would be entertaining their families with a wedding breakfast. But instead of a passel of people sitting around a table, it would be the two of them, alone. And somehow he liked the image that thought induced.
It was the perfect start for their marriage. For the next two days, he had arranged to spend every minute he could with Alexandra. All duties had been passed onto his overseer.
For the next fortyeight hours he would scheme to court, and hopefully seduce, his lovely new wife.
Reaching the top of the stairs, he strolled into the sitting area adjoining their rooms, up to the door of her bedroom. His hand reached out to knock, but the image of kissing a sleepy Alexandra awake halted his fist. What did she look like with her hair splayed across the pillow, the shadow of sleep beneath her eyes? Would she snuggle beneath the covers, or shriek at him to leave the room?
However she awoke, he was anxious to see the woman who had filled his dreams last night. With the tray balancing in one hand, he pushed open the portal and stepped through into the bedroom. The sight of Alexandra awake and dressed, sitting in front of the opened windows, watching the dawn, pen and paper in hand, sent the tray wobbling precariously.
At the sound of his entrance she glanced up, a look of irritation on her beautiful face. She raised her brows as she gazed at him. "Do you often enter rooms unannounced?"
Connor closed his mouth and recovered from his shock. "Good morning, dear. No, but I wanted to surprise you this morning."
"I don't like surprises. That's one of the reasons I want a key to the lock on my door."
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