Regency 01 - Honor

by Jaimey Grant

  Then he thought about her silky hair, her dark eyes, her soft lips, her magnificent form…and groaned. Was it humanly possible for any man to stay away from such a delectable creature?

  He gave her two more weeks to come out of her isolation on her own. When she still showed no signs of doing so, he told Bridgette that her mistress was no longer allowed any books. Perhaps that would force her to come to terms with her life.

  He only waited two days after that. Bridgette reported that Verena was more pensive than normal, which they both took to show she had little to think of other than the cause of her melancholy. He went to his wife’s room when he knew Bridgette to be busy elsewhere and knocked on the door.

  Hearing his wife ask for a divorce shattered something inside Connor.

  *

  Thirteen

  Her husband said nothing. Instead, he seized her in his arms and pressed his lips to hers in a hard and demanding kiss that stole her breath.

  What should have frightened her didn’t, a circumstance she had no time to explore. After the initial shock, she stiffened, then succumbed to the delicious sensations coursing through her. Her arms moved up to curl around his neck, her fingers lacing themselves in his thick hair. He pressed her against him intimately, their bodies touching everywhere from chest to thigh.

  His kiss was unlike anything she had ever before experienced. Possessive, fierce, she felt branded deep in her soul. You belong to me, he told her without saying a word. And she realized the truth of that.

  He pulled away, frustration, anxiety, and anger very clear on his face. “You will not throw this away because of one man, Verena!”

  She could no longer breathe. As if he’d thrown icy water in her face, she blinked and sputtered, “What?”

  He released a mild expletive, turning his back and shoving trembling fingers through his hair. “Your father. You can’t allow your father that kind of satisfaction.”

  Her father. Of course. Who else could he possibly be referring to? Something in her eased and her lungs started working again.

  She distanced herself from her husband, stepping across the room until she felt less affected by his presence.

  “That changes nothing,” she said, forcing the words past stiff lips.

  Connor spun on his heel. His look of shock cut through her.

  “The devil it doesn’t!”

  Unprepared for the violence in his reaction—indeed, when had he ever gotten violent with her before?—Verena couldn’t stop the nervous tremor that started in her middle and lodged in her chest. Panic swelled but she fought it down, telling herself that angry or not, Connor would never hurt her.

  “Don’t you see? I can’t be the wife you need.” She swallowed against the lump in her throat, swallowed the tears that begged for release. “I can’t be responsible for your line dying out.”

  He said nothing, his breaths coming in short angry exhalations. Verena sought to make him understand.

  She held out her hands with her palms up in a gesture of appeal. “Please understand, Connor. I cannot overcome it. I know that I cannot. It was wrong of me to let you talk me into marriage with such false expectations. If I had known that you are expected to provide the family with an heir, I would never have agreed.”

  “And what, do you suppose,” her husband retorted acidly, “would you have done had I let you go? Would you have returned with your father and willingly married that bastard Winters, let him rape you nightly for the rest of your life? Is that what you would have had me give you up to? Do you think I would ever have done such a despicable thing, my lady?”

  Rape. The word slithered around the room, a snake waiting for the right moment to strike. Verena shuddered, blinking against the memories and the pain.

  When she opened her eyes, Connor stood before her, his anger on her behalf a palpable entity in the room. She’d pushed him too far with her demand.

  Despite his clenched hands and stormy countenance, Verena felt no fear. Not that she didn’t experience the usual nervous tremor in the face of such upset. After all the time she had spent with this man, she knew deep in her soul that he would never hurt her. No matter how angry he grew, he would never intentionally hurt her.

  Placing both hands flat on his chest, Verena tried again to make him understand. “I would never have gone to him, Connor. I would have run again and continued to run until my father gave up. And he would have. He has never liked me anyway.”

  Connor made a rude sound and stepped away from her. He reached out and clamped one hand painfully around her wrist and dragged her to her mirror. “What do you see, Verena?” he demanded. “Tell me what you see!”

  Confused, unsure what he wanted her to say, Verena shook her head. All she saw was…herself. Short and skinny with black hair and large purple eyes. Her face and body were too thin, her hair dull and lifeless and her eyes reflected sadness. What did he want her to say?

  “I see me, Connor. What am I supposed to see?” She turned her eyes up to his and he swore audibly. She winced at his colorful choice of words.

  “You are completely blind, do you know that?”

  Verena could only stare at him, uncomprehending.

  Releasing a sigh of frustration, Connor continued. “Look again, Verena and see what I see. Thick midnight tresses framing a face as innocent and pure as a Botticelli; eyes of the deepest violet; the body of a goddess; a beauty so deep that even the loss of weight mars it not one whit.”

  With each word her husband spoke, Verena felt a warm glow start in her middle and spread throughout her body. As he went on, describing in detail all the beauty he saw in her, his voice lowered until he ended on an intimate whisper that slid under her defenses. She tried to turn to him, embrace him, but he held her immobile, finally pausing long enough to take a deep breath.

  His next words effectively doused any intimacy his words had evoked.

  “Carstairs would have hunted you down until the day he died. Your beauty, even now as thin as you are, my blind widgeon, is worth a lot of money on the marriage mart. Especially to a man like Winters and other men of his ilk. We both know your father is greedy enough not to let such an asset escape. And Winters doesn’t like to be thwarted. Even now he is probably planning some sort of revenge for having his prize stolen.”

  “Oh, surely not!” an ashen faced Verena gasped, her thoughts momentarily distracted.

  “It is almost a certainty, my dear girl.” Connor sighed, releasing her. He touched his hand to his forehead in a gesture of long-suffering despair. “You are not to worry about it, Doll. I won’t let him hurt you and he’s not likely to harm me considering the sort of power my father has.

  “But none of this is to the purpose. We are not getting a divorce and the subject will not be brought up again.”

  “But—”

  “No!” he said ruthlessly, crossing his arms over his chest in a defensive gesture. “Furthermore, you are no longer going to sequester yourself here, all alone, avoiding life. You will behave like the lady you are and relieve my family’s worry. You will laugh, you will pretend everything is fine. In private, feel free to rail at me if it will make you feel better. But only in private.”

  “Appearances are everything,” Verena muttered bitterly, thinking of her father and wondering if Connor would turn out to be the same.

  “You are married to the son of a duke, Verena,” he said very gently. “Appearances are very important. They are not everything, though, and I don’t want you to think that you will be punished if you speak your mind.”

  “And this isn’t punishment?” she asked, a little surprised at her own temerity.

  Connor stared at her for a long moment. “Forcing you to face life bravely is not punishment, Doll,” he finally murmured.

  She remained silent, not wanting to agree even though she knew the truth of his claim. Hiding from the world was so much easier then facing it.

  “No one ever said bravery was easy,” her husband said then, as though read
ing her mind. “And trying to find hope in a life gone terribly wrong seems even harder. But it is possible, love. I will prove it to you if you give me the chance.”

  She still said nothing, so he moved closer and tipped her head up with one long finger under her chin. “Do you trust me, Verena?”

  “Yes.” Her eyes widened at her own lack of hesitation in her response.

  He smiled and brushed a kiss on her lips that was over before it began. Then he strode around the room with a look of distaste on his handsome face.

  “The first thing you will do, my love, is refurbish this room. No wonder you were so blue-deviled. This room would discourage the most light-hearted of souls. Refurbish my room as well. It never bothered me before, but then I was never really here much.” He grinned rakishly. “And I expect you to spend more time there before too much longer.”

  Verena was too amazed by the note of certainty in his voice to give the comment the blush that it deserved. Was he so confident in his own powers of persuasion, then, that he thought he could overcome her defensive resistance?

  As she beheld his knowing grin, his very handsome face, his hard-muscled form, and the aura of sensuality that seemed to surround him, Verena did blush. The heat faded within moments to be replaced with a sense of confidence she had never before felt. If anyone could overcome her fear, it would be this man who stood before her.

  Verena made her reappearance that night to the joyful cries of relief from Connor’s family. Even the various relatives that resided somewhere in the castle seemed relieved to see her back among the living. Being unused to such displays of affection, Verena wanted to return to the safe world of fiction in the seclusion of her room. But, remembering her husband’s words and wanting to please him, she stiffened her spine and thanked everyone for their concern, assuring them she was quite well again.

  Throughout the evening, Verena smiled and pretended a gaiety she did not feel. All the while she desperately fought the urge to run. Then she glanced at her husband, who gave her that heart-stopping smile that made her bones melt, and knew she could never disappoint him again. She was tied to him, heart and soul, and she knew he was determined never to let her go. So she simply had to be equally determined that he never regret his decision.

  Over the next few days, she tried not to let the pessimistic thought enter her head but it was there, hovering like some demon, unspoken but there nonetheless:

  Easier said than done.

  *

  Fourteen

  When Verena beheld the changes wrought to her room, she had to admit Connor had been correct. The loss of the heavy dark furniture relieved the senses. She’d replaced them with light airy pieces, elegant and comfortable, but able to withstand the weight of, say, a grown man. The heavy brocade curtains and bed hangings were removed, lace and muslin in shades of lavender and blue hung in their places.

  Her husband’s room she changed to dark blue and gold and replaced the furniture with sturdy pieces that offered more comfort than style, which she felt was more suited to her husband’s somewhat lazy charm and unruffled good humor. She hoped he approved since she had started the redecorating of his room that morning without his knowledge with the express purpose of having it done before he returned from his ride with Adam.

  As she supervised the hanging of the new bed curtains in his bedchamber, she tried not to think about Connor’s comment about her spending more time in this room. The thought entered her head that it might be easiest if she just came to him one night and told him to take her and, hopefully, lay her fears to rest. The usual depressing voice then told her that she would most likely be proved right in that all men were beasts when with a woman. She pushed the temptation aside and concentrated on her task.

  The curtains were duly up to her satisfaction and the servant dismissed. Verena stood staring at that huge bed, the only original piece of furniture left in the spacious chamber since she rather liked it. Somber dark mahogany with an intricately carved headboard, it failed to cause the same melancholy feeling as many of the other pieces had. Climbing the tall posts were carved vines and roses so detailed that Verena wouldn’t have been surprised if she could pluck one of the blooms.

  “What have you done?”

  Verena turned to find her husband leaning against the doorpost. She breathed a sigh of relief when she noticed he smiled despite his rather gruff tone.

  She smiled hesitantly back. “Do you hate it?”

  Connor strode across the room and, taking her hand in his, bowed and smiled warmly. Then he turned her hand over and left a lingering kiss on her palm. She sucked in a startled breath at the sudden spark created by his touch.

  Afraid she blushed, thereby revealing how much he affected her, she turned away. Her relief when she glanced up at him was short lived. He gazed around the room, taking in every minute detail, she had little doubt.

  With one brow raised in question and a light smile on his face, her husband observed, “The bed looks amazingly familiar.”

  “It should. I decided to keep the bed and I have only changed the hangings and the bedding.”

  “Why?”

  “I didn’t like the old ones. I felt scarlet was too bold for a man of your easy-going nature.”

  An amused light flashed in Connor’s blue eyes. “I mean, why did you decide to keep this bed?”

  Verena blushed, but said honestly, “I like it.”

  The amusement in his eyes became impish. “Why does it matter how you feel about it?” He affected surprise, one hand over his heart. “Is it possible that you plan to spend some time here, my blushing bride?”

  Verena’s chin came up. “Do not tease me, Connor. It would be very unbecoming in me were I to say something so exceedingly vulgar.”

  “On the contrary, my dear wife. It would be vastly becoming and even more so were you to suggest to me that you are ready to let me love you properly.”

  Oh, dear God, Verena thought with some of the usual panic. He is serious.

  “What exactly are you afraid of?”

  Verena opened her mouth to speak but found she couldn’t say the words. She was saved by the arrival of Meechum who looked around the room with his mouth hanging open in shock. Then he so far forgot himself as to offer his opinion.

  “I have often urged his lordship to change this room and you have done a marvelous job, milady.” Then he bowed and resumed his place of subservience by inquiring if there was anything he could do for Lord Connor while he was there.

  Her husband dismissed the man with a grin and an imperious wave of his hand. The valet shuffled out with alacrity. Verena quickly made her excuses to avoid having to answer her husband’s question. She hurried to the door.

  Connor reached out and snatched her arm before she had a chance to escape. She gazed at the floor, much like a chastened schoolgirl. No longer able to stand the sensation of his probing glance directed at her, she looked up into unreadable blue eyes.

  “Kiss me, Doll.”

  “What?”

  “Kiss me. You want to run away to avoid my question so I think you should pay a forfeit. Although,” he added with feigned hurt, “I don’t think kissing me is a very good forfeit since I am accounted to be a bit of an expert in that area.” He grinned widely, a dimple peeking out.

  Unusually piqued by this admission to having kissed a great many women, Verena frowned. Then she placed her hands on his shoulders and pressed her lips to his cheek in a very sisterly kiss. Darting away from his grasp, she laughed gaily as she exited his room, calling over her shoulder, “You didn’t say where!”

  Connor threw his head back and laughed, the sound following in her wake.

  Verena stood at the window of the little used Rose Salon that hid at the back of the great castle. She watched her husband stride to the stables and told herself that she would go to him that night and discover once and for all if he could conquer her fears. If he did, then perhaps they could have a normal marriage.

  If not…

/>   She decided not to think about that.

  *

  Fifteen

  After what seemed to be an endless dinner, Verena finally retired to her rooms to wait for Connor to retire to his.

  She let Bridgette undress her and attire her in a filmy nightgown that positively dripped with priceless lace. The sleeves were long and the style demure but the material was so thin as to be almost transparent.

  Although the maid had a knowing look on her face, she stayed mercifully silent for which her mistress was grateful. If a word was spoken about her intentions, Verena knew she would lose her courage.

  She brushed her hair in long even strokes until it lay in rippling waves down her back. Then she went into the sitting room with Jenny’s copy of Pride and Prejudice to await the arrival of her husband.

  It was the third time she’d read the novel and she had just gotten to the part where Mr. Darcy made a mess of his first marriage proposal to Elizabeth. She still found amusement in Mr. Darcy’s bungled attempt to persuade Elizabeth to marry him. She laughed at Elizabeth’s reaction even while she thought the girl was stupid to refuse the man she loved despite the fact that he was a pompous fool.

  Then Verena realized there were sounds coming from her husband’s room. She looked up and set the book aside. Clutching her wrapper close—the transparency of which equaled that of her nightrail thus rendering it a nearly useless frivolity—she moved to the door. She waited until the sounds of splashing and low murmurs ceased, indicating that Connor was in bed and his valet had retired. Then, without pausing to think, Verena turned the handle and entered her husband’s room. She hesitated on the threshold.

  Seeing her hesitation, Connor smiled encouragingly and said, “Come here, my love, and tell me what’s bothering you.”