Bought: The Penniless Lady (13 page)

Her knees trembled as she opened her door and forced one foot in front of the other, heading toward the dining room. The trouble with putting this much effort into her appearance was that she could no longer pretend not to care what Hadrian thought of her. She had
tried
not to care. But of late he’d lavished her with such continuous approval that she had come to thrive on the steady, nourishing diet, just as her body flourished on the plentiful, toothsome meals from Edenhall’s kitchen.

But what would become of her when Hadrian went away next winter? Would she starve for his appreciation? What if she angered or disappointed him? Would his criticism poison her budding confidence?

Her doubts grew by the second as she descended the staircase and approached the great double doors to the dining room. Sick with apprehension, she contemplated racing back to her bedchamber, pinning her hair in its usual severe knot and changing back into one of her unflattering old gowns.

Then she spied Mrs. Matlock coming out of the music room at the end of the main gallery. Though the two women had forged a respectful partnership, Artemis still had too much pride to let the housekeeper catch her in a cowardly retreat. Reminding herself that her ancestors had led armies and attended kings at their coronations, she marched into the dining room with her head high, though her insides quaked.

She found Hadrian standing by the sideboard consulting his watch. Was he annoyed that she had taken so long to dress for dinner?

Before she could stammer an apology, he spoke in a hoarse murmur. “Whatever I paid for that gown, pet, it was a proper bargain.”

“You like it?” Lest he think she had squandered his money, she explained, “The seamstress got a very good price on the taffeta because of the color.”

“What’s wrong with the color?” Hadrian thrust his watch into his pocket.

“Most women prefer lighter shades for the summer, but they make me look sallow. Besides, the way time is flying, autumn will be upon us before we know it.” That thought brought her a pang of regret.

“You made a fine choice.” Hadrian studied her with a slow shake of his head, as if he could not quite believe the transformation. “It suits you very well indeed.”

“I am glad you approve.” Some baffling impulse made her sink into a deep, graceful curtsy. “I want to be a credit to you.”

“You’re all of that.” Hadrian caught her hand and lifted it to his lips.

The gesture reminded Artemis of the first time he’d
kissed her hand, at the White Lion Inn, before they’d struck their marriage bargain. Such a blaze of heat had surged through her when she felt the subtle pressure of his lips through her glove, she’d been afraid her hand would burst into flames!

Now he turned her hand to nestle her palm against his cheek, while his lips hovered over her wrist. Could he feel her fevered pulse racing through her veins?

As she stood there, frozen in the grip of powerful sensations, one of the serving maids entered the dining room, bearing a tray.

“Pardon my intrusion!” she cried the moment she spotted her master and mistress standing so close together. “Mrs. Matlock told us the mistress had come down and said you’d be wanting dinner sharpish. I’ll go back to the kitchen and wait for you to ring.”

“No need to rush away, Sarah,” Hadrian called out in a hearty tone. “I was just admiring my wife’s new gown. Don’t you think it becomes her?”

Lowering her hand from his face, he led Artemis forward for the girl’s inspection.

“Aye, sir.” With a sigh of relief, Sarah carried her serving tray to the sideboard. “She looks a right picture.”

Artemis wavered between embarrassment and pleasure at the girl’s simple, honest praise.

“I suspect there is a conspiracy afoot in this house to turn my head,” she replied as Hadrian escorted her to the table, her hand still clasped in his. “Or perhaps I looked so ill before that any improvement appears wondrous by comparison.”

“Oh, no, ma’am!” cried Sarah. “I’m sure I meant no such thing.”

“Of course you didn’t,” Hadrian reassured her as he held the chair for Artemis. “Nor did I. My wife is far too modest.”

He sat down beside her, as had become his custom at mealtimes. “Now lay on our dinner, Sarah. Admiring such a pretty picture has whetted my appetite.”

He cast a significant glance at Artemis as he spoke those words. For a fleeting instant, one corner of his mouth arched in a sly grin. Clearly the appetite to which he alluded could not be satisfied by braised pigeon breast or roast loin of veal. Only the sweets of her breasts and loins would suffice.

Had her efforts to look more presentable encouraged him to think of her in that way? And if they had, did she regret it…would she return to the safety of her former unflattering appearance? Artemis was not certain she
could,
any more than a hatchling chick could take refuge back inside its shattered shell.

As Sarah placed steaming bowls of lobster bisque before them, Artemis returned her husband’s highly charged gaze. “I suspect that is a polite way of saying you are starved because I kept you waiting so long to dine. Now, tell me what you have found to occupy your time while we await Lady Kingsfold’s reply to my invitation. I saw you ride out this morning.”

Was it her imagination, or did his eyes shift furtively in the instant before he answered? “I had a commission to perform for my other partner, Simon Grimshaw. And I wanted to consult my solicitor about making Lee my heir and arranging financial provisions for you both.”

Artemis was certain she detected a false note in his voice, as if he were trying to conceal something. But that
was ridiculous. What could Hadrian possibly have to hide from her?

Chiding herself for her groundless suspicions, Artemis forced them from her mind. “I recall you mentioned your other partner. He must have his hands full back in Singapore managing the business alone.”

“I reckon he does,” replied Hadrian. “But it’ll be the making of him. Simon’s a capable fellow, but doesn’t like to take a risk. He needs to understand there are times in business when being too cautious can prove the greatest risk of all.”

Did that only apply to business? Artemis wondered. Was she clinging too cautiously to her virginity, needlessly afraid of rejection from a man who had shown her more respect and approval than she’d ever known? If she dared to risk her pride and her innocence, what might she gain by it? The possibilities took her breath away.

“A penny for your thoughts,” Hadrian offered. “Judging by your secretive smile, I reckon they’re worth more, but I’ve always prided myself on driving a hard bargain.”

His gentle jest drove the smile from her lips. “My thoughts are no great secret and this gown is ample payment for them. I was thinking, once you finish your commission for Mr. Grimshaw, you might investigate what we can do to help some of the children who work in the local mines.”

“By George, that is the best bargain I’ve driven in years!” Hadrian’s gray eyes took on a soft, silvery luster.

Artemis suffered a qualm of guilt for palming off an invention in place of her true thoughts. In an effort to ease her conscience, she kept up an earnest dialogue on the subject with Hadrian throughout the rest of their meal.

After dinner they retired to the music room where she entertained him with several selections on the pianoforte. Every moment, she was acutely conscious of his gaze fixed upon her. By the time their accustomed hour for bed arrived, she was so keyed up she feared she would tremble at his slightest touch.

Since the afternoon she’d brought him home to Fellbank and tucked him in, she had managed to avoid retiring to her bedchamber at the same time Hadrian went to his. Sometimes she delayed for a word with Mrs. Matlock about some trivial household matter. Or she visited the nursery to check on Lee. Hadrian had conspired in her efforts, frequently retreating to his study for a glass of port while she went off to bed.

Tonight, neither of them mentioned his study, the nursery or the housekeeper.

As they climbed the stairs and walked down the west gallery to their bedchambers, Artemis strove to maintain her tenuous composure, though her heart raced as if she were walking toward the edge of a high, sheer cliff. If she succumbed to a mad impulse to jump, there could be no turning back.

“Thank you for a very pleasant evening,” said Hadrian as they paused in front of her door. “I look forward to seeing your other gowns, though I cannot imagine any way you might look better unless…”

“Unless…what?” Artemis could not resist putting him on the spot. It made her feel a trifle less vulnerable.

For a moment, Hadrian looked as if he might decline to answer. Then he leaned toward her and whispered,
“Unless you were not wearing a stitch of clothes at all. But since it wouldn’t be proper for you to strut about naked, I like seeing you dressed in a way that makes you look your best.”

Whatever gave him the idea that she might be the least bit attractive without these well-cut clothes? Even her old unfashionable gowns would be an improvement, hiding the worst of her deficiencies. The thought of Hadrian’s disappointment was enough to make her want to bolt through the door and lock it behind her.

Then, as he drew back, Hadrian’s cheek brushed against hers. Was it by accident, or did he intend to remind her how much pleasure his touch could bring her, if she let it? If that was his aim, he succeeded. For a moment, her preoccupation with her flaws faded and all Artemis could think about was
him.

With a whole large house to rattle around in, she had not expected to feel the constant tug of awareness that had plagued her when she’d shared a cramped post chaise box with Hadrian for days on end. But she’d been wrong.

Every step she took toward knowing him better, every bit of consideration he showed her, every admiring word or glance he directed toward her, fueled the desire to which she had sworn she would not surrender. As she sought to restore something of the home and family he’d lost, Hadrian had become a constant stimulating presence in her thoughts. That included her dreams, where she had no control over his actions…or hers.

Raising her hand to his lips, he dusted kisses over her fingertips. “Are you not the least bit curious? Tempted? I
promised it would be your choice whether or not you come to my bed. I only want to make certain you know you would be welcome. But perhaps you don’t find
me
attractive? Or you think I am not good enough for you?” A shadow of uncertainty flickered across his features.

Those suggestions were so preposterous they almost made Artemis laugh. How could such an attractive, confident man of the world doubt the magnetic appeal he exerted upon her? Then she remembered the other Hadrian Northmore she had glimpsed—the boy who’d lived and worked under such harsh conditions, then suffered a greater loss than any young heart should bear.

Before he could release her hand, she reached out to cup his cheek. “
That
is not the difficulty, I assure you.”

He searched her eyes. “What
is
the difficulty, then?”

Artemis sucked in a deep breath. The edge of the cliff seemed to crumble beneath her feet. “I fear I will only disappoint you.”

Hadrian shook his head. “That is not possible.”

She knew he believed it as much as she wanted to. “You cannot be certain.”

“But you can?”

She gave a forlorn nod and lowered her hand from his face.

“How?” he demanded in an urgent whisper. “Why?”

Bent on escaping his questions, she reached for the knob of her bedroom door.

Then, as she pushed the door open, a flicker of wistful longing in the depths of his eyes compelled her to say, “Come in and I will tell you.”

T
he sudden, unexpected invitation into his wife’s bedchamber staggered Hadrian.

Did Artemis realize the step she was taking? If he could persuade her of his desire and prevail upon her to put aside her unaccountable self-doubts, there would be nothing to stop them consummating their marriage this very night. His body roused in anticipation.

Before Artemis had a chance to change her mind, he strode through her door.

The room was softly lit by a single flickering candle in one of the wall sconces. A faint aroma of lavender hung in the air.

“Pray take a seat.” Artemis nodded toward the chair in front of her dressing table.

She closed the door and crossed to the bed, where she perched on the foot of the mattress.

“Go on, then,” he prompted her, eager to refute whatever she might say. “Tell me what makes you so certain you would disappoint me. Everything I have learned about
you leads me to believe quite the opposite. Time has proven my early prejudices against you wrong, while I have discovered new qualities to admire in you every day.”

“That is kind of you to say.” Artemis kept her gaze fixed on the rug at the foot of her bed, tracing the pattern with the toe of her slipper. “For such a dynamic, successful man, you have a great kindness about you. But you must not blame yourself for thinking ill of me at first. I gave you ample cause for it. Since then I have tried to atone for my past conduct.”

“I hope you do not think you are obliged to atone for it in my bed!” The words burst out of Hadrian. “Or yours.”

“Of course not!” she cried with a flash of the spirit that had first drawn him to her. “I want you far too much for my peace of mind. But I am certain if you come to know me too intimately, you will soon discover all my shortcomings as a wife.”

“What shortcomings?”

“What shortcomings?” Artemis gave a bitter laugh. “My green-goose ignorance for a start. My advanced age, pasty face, maypole figure—take your pick.”

“Is that what you think of yourself?” He wanted to wrap her in his arms and protect her from the harsh judgments of her self-doubt. “I thought it endearing that you were not vain and self-centered like so many beautiful women. But this? Why can you not see how desirable you are?”

“I treasure your opinion,” she replied in a husky murmur. “When I am with you I begin to feel as if I truly am the way you see me. But I fear where my
attractions
are concerned, your view runs contrary to that of most men.”

“Does it?” Hadrian bridled. “Then that is their loss, the damned fools! I am arrogant enough to reckon myself more discerning than
most
men. It is my judgment you may rely on. What do you say to that?”

She glanced up then, transfixing him with the radiance of her gaze. “You are the most uncommon man I have ever met, Hadrian Northmore. There is nothing arrogant about owning it. I envy your confidence and your certainty. I wish I could have your eyes for my looking glass.”

Her words sent him flying out of the chair to kneel at her feet and lift his gaze to her. “You are welcome to use them for that purpose as often as you wish. Then I will have the pleasure of staring at you without having to look away in case you catch me at it.”

Sweet, melodious laughter bubbled up from some secret spring deep inside her. “You have done that, too?”

“I couldn’t help myself.” A thought sparked by their earlier exchange suddenly came clearer to him. “Was there one particular man who had a harsh opinion of you?”

Her features froze into a tight, fragile mask. “What makes you ask?”

“You once told me you’d been deceived by someone you thought you knew. It was him, wasn’t it? He made a fuss over you, then turned and showed his true colors?”

Artemis gave a shamefaced nod, as if she was somehow at fault for whatever had happened. “I was young and foolish enough to fancy myself in love. But my uncles disapproved of the match, so I refused his offer of marriage. I wanted to run away with him, but the family would have disowned me. I would never have been allowed to see Daphne again. She was so young. She needed me.”

The poor lass, bound by duty, all the while knowing she might be forfeiting her only chance for love and a family of her own. Hadrian knew all about hard choices. He admired people who were willing to make them and do the right thing, no matter how difficult.

As for the man who’d won Artemis’s heart only to lose her, he was torn between scathing contempt and irrational envy. “This suitor took your rejection badly, did he?”

“Very badly, though not because I broke his heart. Charles Nugent only wanted me for the distinction of having a titled wife. When I refused him as gently as I could, he took the opportunity to tell me his true opinion of my
charms.
“

As she related, in halting words, the humiliating abuse heaped upon her by a man she’d trusted and cared for, Hadrian smoldered with indignant rage. Bad enough for the scoundrel to say such things if they’d been true. But to plant such malicious false doubts in a sensitive nature like hers, for no better reason than because she’d been loyal to her family, was downright wicked! If he could have got his hands on Nugent just then, he would have thrashed the bounder within an inch of his miserable life!

“Don’t you see?” he ventured when her voice trailed off. “You cannot go by the judgment of such a conniving rascal. Not even if those were his true feelings, which I doubt. You thwarted his scheme. So he revenged himself in the only way he knew how. I hope you give my opinion more credence than his.”

Artemis did not hesitate. “Of course! You are ten times the man Charles Nugent will ever be. But I fear you are partial in your judgment of me.”

“Perhaps I am…now. But you must recall when we first met. Then, I detested you. I thought you were haughty and superior. I blamed you for what had happened to my brother. In spite of all that, I was drawn to you, against my will.” He had long been ready to surrender to his physical attraction for Artemis. But there were other feelings he needed to guard against, for both their sakes.

The best way for him to resist might be to offer her some final words of reassurance, bid Artemis a chaste good-night and make his escape. When she had first invited him inside, he’d thought of her bedchamber as a glittering treasure box, ripe for plunder. Suddenly, he wondered if it might be a tempting trap.

Not that Artemis intended it to be. She was not to blame for his unruly desire or his insidious doubts. If he walked away from her now, when it was clear she wanted to let him stay, he would only confirm every miserable falsehood Charles Nugent had made her believe about herself. Not to mention that wretched old nurse and the wellmeaning relatives who’d spent a lifetime telling her how little she resembled her beautiful sister.

Hadrian could not let that happen, no matter how it might complicate his life.

What had possessed her to invite Hadrian into her bedchamber so late at night? Artemis chided herself as she stared down at him, kneeling on her carpet with outrage and pity written plain on his bold, compelling features. Had she truly wanted to explain her reluctance to consummate their marriage? Or had she secretly hoped Hadrian would take that decision out of her hands?

Though she was fully clothed, every word she’d spoken about Charles Nugent seemed to strip away one more covering from her heart. If she kept on, she would soon leave it naked and vulnerable.

Her countenance must have betrayed her misgivings, for Hadrian rose from the floor and held his arms open to her. “Are you going to let a blackguard like Nugent continue to stand in the way of our pleasure? Or are you going to make us both pay the price for
his
sins? If you come to me now, I swear I will put all my skill and experience as a lover at your service. I will initiate you as gently and pleasurably as any maiden ever was.”

His words set her desperate eagerness at war with her agonizing reluctance, wrenching her back and forth until she feared they would tear her apart. But when those two opposing forces were balanced in unbearable tension, Artemis suddenly felt herself no longer bound by either, but free to make a choice. In that moment she knew that although she could never banish all her doubts, she would regret it more if she did not act upon her feelings for Hadrian. Even if she was not entirely certain what all those feelings were.

Slowly she arose from the bed—not like the chaste huntress for whom she’d been named, but as the love goddess, Aphrodite, had emerged newborn from the sea foam. Slipping into Hadrian’s waiting arms, she raised the chalice of her lips for him to fill with the rich, potent wine of his kisses.

For weeks, she had watched his lips whenever he spoke, remembering how they’d felt against her skin and the sensations they had kindled. How often she’d longed to feel
them on hers again, not struggling to resist their attraction, but surrendering to it.

Hadrian obliged her with the delectable play of his lips and tongue until she was light-headed, giddy and almost satisfied. Surely a man could not kiss a woman that way unless she roused his desire to a fever pitch.

His fingers plunged into her hair, tugging out the pins that bound it up. Once he’d set it free to cascade over her shoulders, he lavished it with admiring caresses.

“I have wanted to do that almost from the moment I first set eyes on you,” he whispered, releasing her lips to strew kisses down her cheek and neck. “A more glorious head of hair I’ve never seen on a woman. Puts silk clean to shame, it does. And the smell of it…” he inhaled deeply “…like a country garden after the rain.”

She hid her face against his shoulder, intoxicating herself on breath after deep breath of
his
scent. “I rinse it with lavender water, the way my mother did. It reminds me of her.”

“After this…” his deep velvety murmur made her knees grow even weaker than his kisses already had rendered them “…it will remind me of
you.
”

He sounded so sincere that a lost, searching part of Artemis could not help but believe him. “Keep talking like that and you will make me insufferably vain.”

“I doubt it.” He nudged her chin with his shoulder, making Artemis lift her face to meet his admiring gaze. “You don’t know how beautiful you are by half. But if you are still uncertain after I’m done with you tonight, I will have failed in my aim altogether.”

With that, he scooped her into his arms and carried her
to the bed. “You must know by now, I hate to fail. Especially at something so important.”

He lowered her onto the bed with great care, as if she were a delicate treasure he wished to admire at his leisure. But the very next instant, he turned away from her and perched on the edge of the bed. Her bewildered body throbbed with an infernal compound of itch and ache.

One after the other, Hadrian’s boots hit the floor with a soft, provocative thud. Then he slipped off his coat and tossed it onto the chair in front of her dressing table. His waistcoat swiftly followed. Did he mean to disrobe completely, in front of her?

What if he did? Curiosity sought to soothe her ruffled modesty. For all her innocence, she had seen a number of naked male figures in classical statues and paintings. There should be nothing about Hadrian’s bare body to shock her. While he untied his neck linen, she wavered between averting her gaze and continuing to watch him undress. But when he pulled off his shirt, Artemis could not have looked away if she’d tried.

His torso was not as tanned as his face, but enough to give him the look of a Greek god, one carved out of rich, warm mahogany rather than cold, white marble. For a moment, she forgot all her earlier misgivings, lost in her admiration of the ideal proportion and contours of his physique: the spare masculine grace of his bare back, tapering from a magnificent pair of shoulders to a firm, trim waist; the hard, lean muscle rippling down his chest toward his taut belly, lightly shaded with fine dark hair; the powerful swell and sweep of his arms ending in large, strong hands, hands that nimbly unbuttoned
his breeches and slid them down over lithe, smooth thighs.

With an abrupt, sickening jolt, all Artemis’s doubts engulfed her once more. Much as Hadrian’s glorious masculinity stirred her admiration and desire, it also intimidated her. What did she have to offer him in return?

The cruel words Charles Nugent had hurled at her ten years ago burst from the locked cupboard of her memory to taunt her.
The only way I could stand being wed to such a pallid, scrawny milk-and-water miss would be to engage a plump, pretty mistress at the earliest opportunity.

All that had saved her pride was her relief at escaping the torment of marriage to such a scoundrel. She had never submitted to his mortifying caresses or let him deep enough into her heart to break it.

As Hadrian turned back toward her, Artemis caught sight of something her stolen glances at antique statues had not prepared her for—the rampant shaft of arrogant manhood, rising from his loins. A gasp of awe and a shriek of alarm collided in her throat, threatening to strangle her! Forcing a deep draft of air into her lungs, she pulled herself upright and swung her legs over the opposite side of the bed.

An instant later Hadrian’s arms twined around her. “You’re not running away on me, are you? I didn’t mean to frighten you, just now. But I cannot hide the effect you have upon me.”

She
was responsible for
that?
Preposterous as the notion seemed, it sent a heady surge of power through Artemis.

“I am not frightened.” Dearing pride refused to let her
admit otherwise. Besides, it was not her husband’s size and power that intimidated her as much as the renewed consciousness of her own shortcomings. “I thought since you were undressing, I should, too.”

“Taking your own clothes off?” Hadrian raised his hands to her hair and ran the back of one down her neck. “Where’s the sport in that?”

The next instant he swept her hair to one side, draping it over her shoulder. “But since you’re sitting up, I will take advantage of this opportunity to unfasten your gown.”

His fingertips brushed against her back as he slid the mother-of-pearl buttons free from their ribbon loops. Then he eased the short sleeves off her shoulders and peeled down her bodice, exposing her chemise and short stays. A moment later he had her gown off and folded neatly over the back of the chair on which his garments lolled with such careless abandon.