What kind of a family had she married into? Though with her history, she couldn’t talk.
“It was a damned disgrace. Henry was a selfish swine.” He sipped his wine, his eyes silver-dark in the candlelight, and said almost apologetically, “Georgiana is a rare handful, I’m afraid. Stubborn as a mule and utterly undisciplined.”
She smiled. “She’s in good company, then.”
Cal shook his head. “She makes Rose and Lily look tame.” He looked at his wife, seated across from him, her skin glowing softly in the candlelight. She’d had several leaves of the large table removed, and dining was now a much cozier affair.
There were flowers in the room too, and branches of greenery. He didn’t remember anything like that when he was a boy. Their conversation over dinner had been pleasant, easy; she’d encouraged him to tell her about his day.
The last remnants of his anger with her faded away. She was trying to make things work.
She needed to know what she’d be dealing with, so he told her how he’d met Georgiana, first by reputation from the members of the local hunt, whom she’d apparently terrorized and thwarted for years. “They positively begged me to take her away.”
She’d laughed—the first time he’d heard her laugh properly—a warm, low infectious sound.
He told her how, misliking his plans for her, Georgiana had leapt on her horse—a truly magnificent beast that ought to be far too strong for her but wasn’t—and disappeared into the hills. “For several cold, bitter nights. The girl is impossible—but quite fearless.”
He told her how he’d had to trick his niece into wearing a dress, and how she’d ruined one to spite him. And how he’d had to kidnap her to get her to Bath. He told her aboutFinn, the great gangly smelly wolfhound, and how he’d followed the carriage until Cal was forced to let him come. “I hope you like dogs,” he finished, “because she won’t be separated from the animal.”
“I love dogs,” she assured him, laughing. She was a good listener. This dinner had been the most pleasant and relaxed evening he’d had for... well, he couldn’t recall when he’d last enjoyed a woman’s company so much. Or had such a pleasant evening in his childhood home.
He was almost sorry now that the girls were coming so soon. But of course, he had no choice. He didn’t trust them an inch. And he had a job to do. Three Oxfordshire men were on his list and the sooner he checked on them, the better.
“I’ve sent for Georgiana’s horse too. All three girls are keen horsewomen. It will be something to keep them occupied.” And, with any luck, tire them out for any further mischief.
“I could—” she began.
“You’ll have your hands full with housewifery, I know. As long as a groom goes with them, they’ll be all right.” He paused, then, feeling he had something to make up for, asked, “You don’t mind, do you, that your honeymoon involves refurbishing my house, and that your peace will be invaded by three difficult young ladies?”
“Not at all,” she said, and somehow the warm, laughing woman had been replaced by the cool schoolteacher. “We married for convenience, after all.”
The unspoken words hung in the air between them.His convenience.
***
He came to her room that night, knocked and, at her response, entered. “Are you willing?” She was sitting up in bed, reading.
She looked a little surprised but answered, “Of course,” as a dutiful wife should. She put the book aside and moved over in the bed to make room for him. He hoped it wasn’t only duty, but did it really matter if it was? The result would be the same.
Somehow, it mattered.
The thought of those unaccounted-for couple of years had nagged at him from time to time during the day. If her false swain had been bought off when she was seventeen, why had her father disowned her two years later? What had happened?
But now was not the time to ask. Not if he wanted to lie with her tonight—and he did. He hadn’t planned to—he’d decided to punish her, ignore her for a few days until she came to him with a proper explanation. And an apology.
But despite his pique at her lack of virginity, and his exasperation at her refusal to show any proper contrition, his body had hummed with lust and anticipation all day. He hadn’t been able to get the scent of her skin and hair out of his mind. He’d eaten an apple at ten, a sandwich at noon, but the taste of her still lingered. And her skin, glowing gently by firelight, those breasts, those long, slender legs that wrapped so hungrily around him...
So he’d decided to forgive her.
Besides, he owed it to his ancestors to get an heir.
Now, the mere act of opening the connecting door, the sight of her sitting in bed, reading—perfectly decent and covered to the neck in a voluminous thick flannel nightgown—had him hard and ready.
Rain started to fall outside, spattering hard against the windows. The air in the room was chilly. He moved to the fireplace and added a few logs to the fire. The dry wood caught quickly, lightening the room and perfuming it with the clean, smoky scent of yew.
Cal straightened, staring into the flames a moment. He was on fire for her. He didn’t understand it, hadn’t been quite so... so consumed by lust since he was a green and randy youth.
He returned to the bed, leaving the candles burning—no need for discretion on behalf of virginal shyness now—and removed his dressing gown.
