“You should not have waited so long to ride again. It gave your fears a chance to get a firm grip on you.”
“I’m just wondering now if I’m ever again going to be able to ride. At this moment I don’t think I could face it.”
“Don’t be foolish, my dear,” he smiled reassuringly and reached out to touch her hand.
“I won’t! I can’t… not after what happened today. I’ll never mount a horse again.”
“Hmm, that’s a pity,” he goaded her gently. “The haut ton puts great store in a woman with a good seat, you know.”
“I don’t care,” Marisa pouted. “What difference does that make?”
“I think I could help you overcome your fear if you would be willing to let me. Since you already know the fundamentals of riding, within a short time you could overcome this unreasonable fear. It’s simply something irrational that you’ve got to get out of your head.”
Marisa didn’t care for the exact words he chose, but this whole thing seemed to be such a matter of great importance to him that she found it difficult to resist his urgings.
“Do you really think it’s possible? I mean… you think you can actually teach me to ride without any fear? Oh, I don’t think I can do it anymore.”
“But of course you can. That is, unless you’re the cowardly type.”
His remark was designed to make Marisa wince and she obliged him. “I… I don’t even know anymore. Tell me, why are you so anxious to have me learn to ride? Why is this so important, anyway?”
Straeford just shrugged his shoulders. “I suppose I just would not be able to stand seeing the Countess of Straeford accused of cowardice.”
Marisa winced again at the challenge he reiterated and then took on a pensive look. “I think I would prefer to give this more thought. Yes, I’d like some rest now.”
“Please do that,” the earl said, rising to leave. “You know that I ride every morning and I’d like you to join me if you decide to take up my offer.”
Marisa did not immediately respond to the earl’s invitation, but within a few days they were riding together virtually every morning. Although her fears were still very real every time she approached the saddle, she felt some progress being made through their daily outings. Best of all, it was an opportunity to be with the earl in a situation where she could not help but admire his superior skills as a horseman. It was something he did naturally, effortlessly, and it was a source of unending pleasure to him. He loved talking about horses, studying them, analyzing their movements, comparing their dispositions. And he thoroughly enjoyed demonstrating his skills and knowledge to Marisa.
9
Since Marisa had accepted the earl’s challenge to ride with him, things seemed to be going rather well between them, and she hoped that nothing would change that. Her hopes were dashed at the end of one of their morning riding sessions, however, when he announced that he had invited several guests for the weekend.
“It’s the Hardings and two other couples,” he said. “When I was in London, I spent my time with some members of Parliament and the War Office…”
Marisa stiffened as he provided her with the details. His mention of London only forced her to recall how he had abandoned her so soon after their marriage. She tried to rid herself of her pique, but it just would not go away. He took no notice of her mounting irritation as he continued his explanation.
“I found it prudent to invite two of them here. Relington and Clarkson. Both of them have influence regarding the military campaign being planned for this summer, and Relington’s wife seemed especially interested in visiting the Park.”
“Why?” she asked belligerently.
Straeford scrutinized his wife more closely. “Just curiosity I suspect. Of course, she is an accomplished horsewoman, and the Park has many trails. I’m certain she…”
“I see!” Marisa cut in sharply. She was furious now and did not care if he knew it or not. While she had been sitting alone in the country, he had been gallivanting about London and planning to bring his friends here.
“You seem upset. Is anything the matter? You’re not timid about entertaining my guests now, are you?”
“No, of course not… It’s just that I… oh, never mind.” She was hurt and found it frustrating to try to explain herself to him.
He frowned and was perplexed by her strange attitude. “Look, I’m sure Manners and Bess will be able to handle things for you.”
“And how do you plan to amuse your guests?” she asked haughtily.
Straeford took stock of her carefully before answering. “That should be easy enough. It’s only two days. We’ll ride and play whist, and the ladies can entertain. You do sing, don’t you?”
“A little,” Marisa lied.
Straeford raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Then you must play the piano?”
“No, I don’t,” she answered curtly.
“Hmm… I thought all aspirants to the ton acquired those arts.”
“You forget that I am only a merchant’s daughter, my lord.”
“What is the reason for all this sarcasm I detect? What has you so high in the stirrups?” Straeford was becoming increasingly annoyed by her display of temper.
“To be perfectly frank, I believe I have discovered why you have cultivated so much of my time these past two weeks. I was foolish enough to believe that it might have been because you were genuinely interested in our establishing a good… relationship. But that wasn’t the reason at all. No, you had another motive in mind all the while.”
“Oh? And what was that, pray tell?”
“You wanted to be sure that I wouldn’t be the source of any embarrassment to you since I am not able to ride well, and since your polite circle of friends puts so much store in that sort of thing. Unfortunately, you overlooked something as mundane as my ability to sing,” Marisa retorted smugly.
“Why you shrew! I ought to throttle you!” Straeford stormed and took a threatening step toward her, which Marisa ignored in the heat of the moment.
“Perhaps you should have left that task to the horse, my lord.”
“Vixen! I can see your father allowed you too much freedom of the mouth!”
“And your mother…” Marisa knew as the words left her lips that she was close to the edge of the earl’s limits. She had even surprised herself with such an inflammatory rejoinder.
A dark scowl crossed Straeford’s face and his voice took on a low, deadly tone as he crooked a menacing finger of warning in her direction. “You leave her out of this! And don’t you ever dare use her name as a weapon against me in this house!”
Once again Marisa dangerously tested the limits of her husband’s anger. “Why? Did your poor mother find it an impossible task to raise an arrogant, unfeeling son who had no consideration for anyone else save himself? She must have…”
The earl could no longer restrain himself. He roared and leapt at her, his fingers seizing the white column of her throat in an instant. Marisa gasped for breath and tried desperately to scream for help, but his grip was overwhelming, and in a split-second flash of panic, she thought she would lose consciousness. As her eyes closed in pain and fright, the viselike grip of his fingers relaxed around her neck, permitting her to breathe freely. Then Marisa felt herself being flung unceremoniously into a chair, and when she dared open her eyes again, there was the threatening and thunderous black face of the earl in front of her. “I warned you, madam,” he hissed through clenched teeth. “You broach the subject of… the late countess, you do so at your own peril.”
Too stunned to protest, Marisa lay inert against the back of the chair and stared wide-eyed at her husband, trying to control the impulse to run screaming from him. Her throat hurt where he had grasped it, and she massaged it slowly swallowing hard several times.
“There’ll be no bruises,” he pronounced impassively.
“I… I suppose… that makes it all right?” Marisa felt as if she were suffering from a sore throat.
/> “You’ll feel no ill effects from my handling of you.”
“Is that some kind of apology for your outrageous behavior?”
“Apology?” Straeford choked, flabbergasted by her temerity. “Well, I’ll be damned! Now don’t provoke me any further, madam, or I won’t be responsible for my actions.” A certain ruthlessness was evident in his gait as he strode to the other side of the room. He felt a need to keep her at a distance since he was unsure of his response if she continued to goad him.
“You would not treat me as you have just now if I were a man.”
“But then, of course, you are not, are you?” His eyes roamed over her insultingly.
“Oh… if only I… I wish I could call you out and run you through,” she claimed vehemently and stuck her chin out at him in defiance.
Straeford’s eyebrows shot upward and then his chest seemed to quiver with suppressed laughter. “I believe you would.” He found the defiant beauty before him rather amusing as her eyes flashed and her bosom heaved with anger. “I know no other woman who would have had the audacity to say so under the present circumstances, however.” He had to admire the courage and indomitable spirit this woman exhibited, yet he was determined to bend her to his will.
Before delivering her parting shot, Marisa moved to the door and opened it. “You certainly live up to your reputation, Lord Straeford. You’re as unprincipled a villain as everyone says you are.”
“I’m glad I did not disappoint you, my dear.” A sneer curled the corner of his mouth, and he cast a low mocking bow in her direction. “I wondered how long I’d have to wait to hear you utter such words.”
Marisa’s face burned as she whirled out of the room.
Having decided to avoid the earl’s company completely in protest against his treatment of her, Marisa had remained in her rooms for the better part of the last two days. It was now late in the evening, and she closed the book that she had been attempting to read for more than an hour. Perhaps she would try falling asleep. For the second time that night, she blew out the candle and crawled into bed. Her mind was filled with the confrontations she had had with the earl since they were married, and sleep would not come. Suddenly the darkness gave way to the light of her bedroom door opening. As she sat up with a start, the tall dark figure of the earl leaned over her.
“What are you doing here?”
“Not very imaginative, my dear.” He flung back the bedcovers, and Marisa tried to roll off the opposite side of the bed to get away, but he had already locked his arms about her and brought her struggling body back close to his, pinning down her arms helplessly to her sides.
“How dare you do this! How dare you come to me knowing full well that I detest your… demeaning attitude toward me. I will not be treated as if I were chattel.”
“Will you not? Must I remind you, my dear, that you are my wife by legal marriage, and as such you are bound to obey me. And at the moment that requires you to perform your wifely obligations to me. I will not be ignored, nor will I have you overstepping my authority in any way.”
Unable to find adequate words to describe her feelings, Marisa shrieked and struggled in his grip until she managed to release one arm to swing at his face, but Straeford laughed loudly as he brought it under his control with small effort.
“I won’t submit to you! I won’t!” She twisted violently and thrust her body into his, temporarily loosening his hold.
Yet it was pointless to continue to resist him for he soon had her in his power again. “My, my,” he sniggered, “such a willing wife! Now I think it’s about time that I put an end to your rebellious ways.” His voice took on a more serious tone. “No house can survive with two masters, and it’s time you learned which role is rightfully yours and which one belongs to me.”
The earl seized her roughly and pressed his entire body against hers. “Don’t fight me, Marisa. You’ll only hurt yourself.”
Knowing the truth of those words, she unwillingly capitulated. She forced herself to remain impassive to his fondling until his grip relaxed and his slow sweeping movements began to invade her very soul. Gradually he felt her stubborn defenses fade. The feel of his warm hands gently running through her hair and then slowly along her slender shoulders awakened a new alarming sensation within her, compelling her to respond to his commands to kiss his lips and to taste the danger of his hypnotic power which suddenly seemed to devour her. She felt her silky nightgown slide silently from her body under his careful guidance, and she became acutely aware of the hair on his muscular arms as they glided along her shapely form. It was a primitive but irresistible sensation, and she found herself giving in to the urge to run her own hands through the curly tufts of hair that appeared on his solid bare chest. Unwittingly her action drove his taut body to a fevered pitch. Needing immediate release, he found it in her and she surrendered to his sweeping passion.
Their desire spent, husband and wife lay next to one another, a warm glow still perceptible about them. Turning toward her, he grasped her white shoulders in his hands. “You learn quickly my little wife. If only…” He stopped in midsentence and seemed to smile sardonically. Then he left her to ponder what he had been about to say.
After he had gone, Marisa lay alone in the darkness for a long time thinking about the curious nature of lovemaking. Her husband had tapped sensations within her tonight she had never known before. And his physical being gave her a secret thrill that until tonight she never knew was possible.
Gathering her covers about her and readying herself for sleep, it occurred to Marisa that there were still many things to learn about this enigmatic man she had married.
To the young countess’s relief, the weekend was progressing much better than she had anticipated. Their guests had arrived in time for dinner on Friday, and afterward Lady Relington, a tall, buxom, pale blonde in her mid-thirties, was only too happy to entertain the party with slightly naughty renditions of popular tunes at the pianoforte. On the second evening there had been a slight contretemps when the gentlemen joined the ladies in the drawing room and Marisa was asked to sing. That glib white lie she had told Straeford during their last battle had come back to haunt her, and her pleasure in singing was dimmed, for whenever she glanced at the earl, he was fiercely scowling at her. Even the warm praises afterward about her lovely musical voice could not ease her feelings of apprehension, and she was not surprised when Straeford approached her later to comment caustically that he should have expected as much from her since deceit was second nature to all women.
Instead of defending herself, Marisa bowed her head and asked his pardon. If she had planned it, Marisa could not have scotched his anger better. Baffled by the sincerity of her apology, he did not pursue the issue any further. Thus a major blowup was averted.
The party had just divided itself into two groups to play whist. To Marisa’s disappointment, she and the earl were chosen to play opposite the Relingtons.
“Oh, do let us switch partners,” Amanda Relington cooed. “It’s so much more interesting that way. Don’t you think so?”
“I’d like nothing better than to partner this adorable creature.” Thomas Relington cast a lustful glance at Marisa, who lowered her long lashes and colored under his scrutiny.
“La, I do believe you have embarrassed the countess, Thomas.” Amanda laughed maliciously. “You must get used to our ways, my dear. Airs just will not do in the polite world. Will they, Justin?” she trilled spitefully, laying her hand on the earl’s sleeve.
Straeford ignored her gesture and addressed her husband instead. “I think it best we partner our wives this evening, Relington.”
“If you insist, old man. Can’t blame you for wanting to keep such a little beauty to yourself.” Straeford directed him a dark quelling look and Relington slunk into his chair.
As the game progressed, Marisa gained confidence because she and his lordship were winning. It was exciting to discover they were a compatible team judging each other’s moves accurately
, and she smiled happily as the earl took the last trick of the round.
Growing cross with her husband’s ineptitude, Amanda attacked him angrily when they were outbid for the next hand. “Thomas, you lunkhead! You’ve missed every one of my signals!”
“The luck’s with our hosts, sweetheart,” he appeased, knowing how his wife hated to lose at anything.
Their winning had to do with more than luck, Marisa thought. Amanda Relington was spending too much time eyeing the earl to be concentrating on the game, while her husband had imbibed too freely of the Straefords’ excellent brandy. Raising her eyes from the cards, Marisa met her husband’s sardonic gaze. Evidently he shared her opinion. Then he did something quite unexpected and winked at her. She could not believe it. It was as if some special affinity had just been established between them. The startling gesture diverted her attention from the game long enough for her to make an error which Amanda capitalized on immediately. Fortunately Straeford was able to cover his wife’s blunder and regain the advantage so that in the end they were the winners.
Afterward as they began to move away from the table, Thomas Relington stepped in front of Marisa, detaining her. “Do you ride as well as you play cards, Lady Straeford?”
“Actually this is the only card game I know.” She went to sidestep him and catch up with the earl and Lady Relington when Relington caught her hand.
“You are bound to be the toast of St. James this season.”
“You flatter me, sir.” She tried to politely disengage her hand from his, but he refused to relinquish it. Straeford looked back over his shoulder for her and upon seeing her engaged with Relington continued across the room with Amanda.
Tender Torment Page 14
