He made the effort to hand her up into the carriage and make sure of her comfort. But he returned to silence on the ride to his home, staring out the carriage window at the passing scenery. If he expected her to be the one to carry the conversation for the rest of their lives, he was sorely mistaken. For all she cared, they would go to their graves without exchanging another word.
His town house in St James’s Square was fashionable enough, in a sterile sort of way. Though she’d thought her father’s servants to be exemplary, they did not hold a patch to the Challenger household staff. When given a tour by the housekeeper, she found not a speck of dust anywhere in the house and not a single fringe on the rug out of line. When she returned to the sitting room, the tray of cold meats laid out for tea had been cut wafer-thin and rolled into a display of rosettes and leaves that was almost too pretty to eat.
She stole a slice of ham from an edge, chewing. It was a shame she would not be here for long. If the house had belonged to any other man, she might have enjoyed being mistress of it.
Her moment of peace was destroyed by the appearance of her new husband, entering the room at his usual brisk, military pace. She sighed and made a show of dropping her bouquet on the table as she helped herself to another slice of meat. ‘Hello, Mr Challenger.’
‘Madam,’ he said with a sober nod, but added nothing more to hint at his plans for the future.
She abandoned her earlier plan to punish him with silence. There were things that needed to be settled. If he did not broach them, she must. ‘We are married now.’
He nodded.
‘And I thank you, very much, for freeing me from the risk of marriage to Sir Nash.’
‘You’re welcome,’ he said, walking to a sideboard to pour himself a glass of brandy.
‘But I think it is time to discuss my future.’ Apparently, she must remind him, for he seemed to be offering no information on his own.
‘Your future,’ he said, as if surprised that she would be interested in it.
‘What happens next?’ She’d have wondered the same thing if their marriage had been a normal one. But she doubted that she’d have had to ask it of him. He would simply have smiled and shown her everything she’d wanted to know.
But remembering the kiss in the church, perhaps he did not know either.
He gave her another deep look. Then he drained the glass, set it aside and stared down at the floor, clasping his hands behind his back, turned on his heel and began a slow circumnavigation of the room.
‘Will you be finding me rooms?’ she prompted. ‘Or will the choice be left to me?’ Or could she just go back to her father’s house in the country as she wished to and pretend that the Season had never happened?
The pacing stopped. ‘Rooms?’ He looked up and frowned. ‘Why the devil would I be doing that?’
‘The agreement was that we would live separately,’ she reminded him.
‘Metaphorically, we will,’ he agreed.
‘You mean to live separately under the same roof,’ she said, shaking her head in disbelief.
‘Of course.’ He looked back at her with the same incredulous expression she was giving him. ‘We agreed that we would not bother each other.’
‘You are bothering me right now,’ she said, gritting her teeth. ‘The only way to prevent annoyance is by living in separate residences.’
‘If you think that you can set up housekeeping for yourself less than a day after your wedding, you are even more feather-brained than I thought.’
‘It speaks,’ she said, clasping her hands together in feigned enthusiasm.
‘You know damn well I do,’ he growled.
‘I was beginning to doubt it,’ she said. ‘There were more words in that sentence than you have said in hours.’
‘Since you have decided to pay better attention than you did during the wedding ceremony, I will continue.’
She sat on the edge of her chair, folding her hands in her lap, like the good little schoolgirl he wanted, and gave him an artificial smile.
‘The object of this whole endeavour was to avoid scandal,’ he said in the patient tone one would use on an idiot. ‘You cannot simply marry me and disappear. We will continue to share a residence for as long as is necessary for the town to lose interest in us.’
‘Really,’ she said.
He ignored her mocking tone and continued. ‘As you may have noticed, I prefer to live my life and run my household by a few simple rules. My wife will be bound by these rules as well.’
‘Will I?’ she said and rose from her chair to stand before him like a private at attention.
‘When we are in public, I expect a certain level of decorum. While the rest of my family is known for its laxity, I am not.’
‘Laxity,’ she said, rolling her eyes. It was the politest possible way to describe the fact that his mother had been flirting with the footman at their wedding breakfast and his father had been too drunk to notice. ‘Do not worry, Major Challenger. I am sure you are the very opposite of lax.’ The word ‘rigid’ came to mind.
He did not even blink at her use of his rank, as though he had always assumed that his wife would recognise he was her commanding officer. ‘Now that we are married, I expect you to adhere to the same rules and principals that I do.’
‘And what might those be?’
‘You will take no excess of alcohol in public or private.’
She reached back to the table at her side, lifted her wine glass, and toasted him before draining it. ‘Of course not, Major Challenger.’
‘An extra glass will do no harm, on special occasions,’ he allowed.
‘Thank heavens,’ she said and poured more wine, sipping as she spoke. ‘Pray continue, Major Challenger.’
‘I am more concerned with public indiscretions that might result from drunkenness. I do not like wastefulness or foolishness.’
‘Foolishness,’ she said, remembering the looks he had given her each time they’d met.
‘You must avoid the sort of behaviour that draws all eyes to you in a public place and leads to disapprobation,’ he said, dismissing every social faux pas she had ever made as if they were both deliberate and easy to avoid. ‘I do not want to see my wife mentioned in the tattle sheets, or to have her become a laughing stock amongst my friends.’
‘I will take it under advisement,’ she said, finishing her wine in one gulp and setting the glass aside.
‘Likewise, you will not squander your allowance on gambling, or flaunt your indiscretions in my face.’
‘You must never see me being indiscreet,’ she said, sure that it was not what he had meant at all. But since she was not totally sure what he meant by indiscretions, she was not yet sure how to flaunt them.
‘Most importantly, you will refrain from going to Vitium et Virtus.’
‘That is all?’ she said, waiting to see what other stupidity he might spout.
He gave her the same grave nod he had done before.
‘Then let me tell you my opinion of your requirements,’ she said, her voice rising to a volume that he probably found indiscreet. ‘I am not prone to excesses, so I will continue to drink what I like, when I wish to. I have no intention of watering my wine in public just to soothe your groundless fears.’
He was staring at her as if he had never expected her to speak, other than to agree with his nonsense.
‘Secondly, you will not be troubled with witnessing my indiscretions. As I reminded you just now, we agreed before this marriage that we would live apart. You will not see me being indiscreet. After today, I hope you will not be seeing me at all.’
‘That was not what I meant…’ he began.
‘Because, despite what you seem to think, the purpose of this marriage was not to avoid embarrassment, it was to avoid Nash Bow
les. I do not care what society says about me as long as they do not call me Lady Bowles when they do it.’
‘I, however…’ He held a finger in the air, ready to lecture.
She gave him no chance. ‘Lastly, if I choose to go to Vitium et Virtus again, I see no reason why I cannot. I am a married woman, after all, and not some innocent who needs to watch her reputation at all times.’
‘Well, actually…’ he began.
‘I should be perfectly safe, since my husband is one of the owners. You have spent much time there, yet you are still so full of propriety that I can hardly stand to be in the same room with you.’
‘You cannot simultaneously shun my company and go to the place where I spend my evenings,’ he reminded her, more incredulous than bemused. ‘And you might be married, but believe me, my dear, you are still innocent.’
He was twitting her about the thing she did not know again. But if learning about it meant she had to spend any more time with Frederick Challenger, she would rather die in ignorance. ‘I am not so innocent that I do not know what a kiss should feel like.’
She could see by his sudden flush that he was as mortified by their wedding kiss as she had been. Good. He should suffer for it. ‘It amazes me that a man who has spent as much time as you have steeping in vice at a place full of nude women and lechers has gained nothing from the experience.’
He was already red with anger, but now he reminded her of a pot ready to boil over.
Then let him do so. It was time that he learned what it was like to be the butt of continual criticism instead of the source of it. ‘Perhaps there is someone at your precious club who can explain to you the correct way to kiss a woman. Maybe they have a library with books on the subject. At the very least, you might examine some of the appalling pictures hanging on the walls.’
‘Or perhaps I will simply visit with any woman there. There is not a one of them that would deny me erotic companionship, should I ask for it,’ he retorted, unable to remain silent.
‘Courtesans,’ she said, trying to sound knowing rather than hurt by his inevitable infidelity. ‘That is an excellent idea. If you pay a woman to be affectionate, she will not dare to tell you that you kiss like a dead fish.’
By the dangerous silence that followed her insult, she knew she had pushed him too far. After what seemed like ages, he spoke. ‘I am glad to have your opinion, based on your vast previous experience.’ The comment was delivered in an uninterested tone, as if she had expressed a preference for chicken over fish. Why did it raise gooseflesh on her skin?
He took a step closer to her and she had to fight the urge to run. ‘So you do not like the way I kiss.’
She did not. But by the look in his eyes now, it would be the height of folly to goad him further than she already had.
‘Let me assure you, Georgiana, if and when I want a woman, I do not need to pay for her time. She gives. And I make sure that she is happy to have done so.’
If he looked at them as he was looking at her now, she could imagine any number of women succumbing to whatever he demanded. Why, then, did he not work this magic on her? ‘Prove it,’ she said.
Before she could regret her dare, he closed the distance between them, took her in his arms, and kissed her.
This.
What he was doing to her was not exactly what she had been hoping for in the church. She had expected that the ceremony would end with a gentle seal of his lips on hers to mark the covenant. It would leave her with the same sort of warm glow that one got standing next to a fire on a cool day.
What was happening now was like dancing around a bonfire, while fireworks burst in the night sky above her head. But she must be dancing naked for she could feel the heat of the flames on every inch of her skin. She wanted to touch herself all over, to see if the heat was real, or imagined. Better yet, she wanted to be touched.
His kiss was not a brief brush of lips, but an open-mouthed frenzy. His tongue was in her mouth and hers in his. It should have been horrifyingly invasive. Instead, she opened her mouth wider to receive more of him, as if searching for a way to take his soul into her own body.
While a part of her felt like dancing, another part of her wanted to relax like a cat in a patch of sunshine. Though their mouths were lost in a tumultuous joining, her body was weightless, boneless, and his to mould like clay. She wanted to be what he wanted, to be made over by him into a new person.
His hands released the grip on her arms and moved up, over her shoulders and down her back. By the time they’d reached her hips, she knew every inch of him, as he did her. And yet, by the burning inside her, she was sure there was more to learn.
Despite the forcefulness of his embrace, she felt safe in his arms. Perhaps, in a moment, he would sweep her up in them and carry her up the stairs and into the bedroom. She was still not quite sure what would happen next. But with each passing moment, she was growing more eager to find out.
Then, just as suddenly, he released her. He was panting for breath and his arms were rigid at his sides as though he could not decide whether to reach for her again or push her away. He looked as angry as ever, but confused as well.
Her breathing was as ragged as his and all her glib words had fled. She couldn’t seem to manage more than to blink at him as she waited for his next words.
‘I trust I have established that I am experienced enough to be a satisfactory husband. It is a shame that you do not know enough to be a proper wife.’
Had she done something wrong just now that had proved she was not just inexperienced but unteachable? Or did he truly dislike her so much that he would offer such a kiss just to deny her more as a punishment? If that was the truth, she felt even worse now than she had before.
But to show her feelings would give him more ammunition to hurt her with. ‘Are you a satisfactory husband?’ She affected an annoyed shrug. ‘If I follow the guidelines you have set for me, I have had far too much wine to trust my own judgement on the matter. And if you expect me to follow the rest of your silly rules before you declare me proper enough to get another kiss, then I guess we will never know.’
There was another deadly pause. Then he gave a growl of uncontrollable frustration and reached for her again, as if he thought it might be possible to kiss her into agreeability.
Remembering how she’d felt just now, he was probably right. But she had no intention of allowing herself to be so manipulated by a man who only wanted to control her. She darted clear of his grasp, turned to the table, and grabbed the first thing that came to hand: the sad bouquet she had carried to her equally sad wedding. Then she swung it with all of her might at the side of his head.
‘Don’t you dare touch me, ever again!’ The flowers exploded in a cascade of petals and she ran out the door and up the stairs, to lock herself in a bedroom that she had never wanted in the first place.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Diplomacy was not Fred’s strong suit. It was why the army had suited him so well. By the time a battle arrived, there was no need for discussion. If his superiors had doubts, they kept them to themselves. And they never had to contend with the damaged sensibilities of their men on the morning after.
That might explain the absence of women in the military. But it was not just women that were Fred’s problem. He had never been any good at dealing with the excesses of his father and brother, either. While Pater deserved respect for age and rank alone, there was no way he could cede it easily to his idiot brother Francis because of one year’s superiority and a direct line to an earldom.
Fred had chafed, argued, and evaded when dealing with people he did not like, even when his friends had hinted that subtlety might rule the day. And though he’d bought his commission to run away from his problems, in Portugal he’d had no choice but to meet challenges head-on and conquer them.
But nothing ha
d prepared him for Georgiana Knight. He had sown the wind with an impromptu marriage. He should not be surprised that the proverbial whirlwind had arrived on the wedding night. After she had crowned him with her bouquet, she had run upstairs and disappeared into her room with a slam of the door that must have been heard all the way to the basement. He had been left alone, picking flower petals out of his hair, sure in the knowledge that the household staff knew their master had been banned from the marital bed.
Not that he’d actually planned to bed her. Not immediately, at least. He had promised her that he would not impose himself upon her. But some part of him had assumed that the situation would change with time. When two people were alone in the same house, things sometimes happened. Why should they not? Congress between a man and a woman was an enjoyable activity. In their case, it was even sanctioned by the church. When the opportunity presented itself, desire would not be a problem. She was not unattractive.
If he was honest, she was more than that. She was really quite lovely. When he had rejected her on their first meeting, he had done so with regret. His taste already ran to tall blondes and only a fool did not like big, blue eyes and full, pink lips.
But it had not been her face he’d remembered, as they stood together at the altar. A stray beam of light had shone through the muslin of her gown and the briefest outline of her shoulder had sent him down a moonlit path of fantasy, remembering how she had looked when he’d rescued her at Vitium et Virtus and what might have happened between them.
Breasts. Not too large, not too small. Firm handfuls of flesh cresting over a skimpy bodice. Pert nipples outlined under gauze that clung so tight to her flat belly her navel made a dark hollow in the fabric.
Legs. Not just a titillating glimpse of ankle. He had seen shapely calves, round hips and thighs that begged to be parted. When her skirt had shifted, he’d had a brief view of the sweet place where they met. Damn Jake and his talk of undiscovered countries. What man would not want to experience la petite mort after that particular journey?
Convenient Bride for the Soldier & the Major Meets His Match & Secret Lessons With the Rake (9781488021718) Page 7
