Lady in Red (35 page)

The truth was, he was primed and ready and impatient for the ceremony to be over. Just sitting beside her at the luncheon and having to watch her lips closing over the bowl of her spoon, feeling the occasional pressure of her knee whenever he bent over to whisper something in her ear, smelling the lemon and sunshine of her hair… it drove him to distraction.

As soon as he could—and actually a little sooner than he should have—he took matters into his own hands. He called for the carriage and bid an abrupt farewell to the wedding party. Ignoring the knowing looks from his own brothers, he rushed her through the teary embraces of her family and outside to the waiting carriage.

Herberts was holding the door wide, his nearly toothless grin stretched from ear to ear. “ ‘Ere ye are, guv’nor! ”Tis a good day to get wracked by the parson, ain’t it?“ He pulled down the steps as Honoria came forward. ”Coo ’ee, me lady! “Tis a nice gown ye have. And look at the sparkles on yer toes! Ain’t often oiye see feet so well shod.”

He might have continued on in this vein if Marcus hadn’t slapped a healthy vale in his hand and said tersely, “Waste no time.”

Herberts’s grin widened even more and he gave a broad wink. “Impatient, aren’t ye? Well now, havin‘ seen her la’yship, oiye can’t say as oiye blame ye.”

Marcus had the uncomfortable impression that had Herberts dared, the man would have nudged him in the ribs right along with that impudent wink. Really, he had to do something about that damned coachman, but now was not the time.

Marcus climbed into the carriage, achingly aware of Honoria sitting across from him, pale as a wraith. “Herberts, do you know where we are going?”

“Aye, guv’nor! To the huntin‘ box. Lord Brandon was mighty fond of that place hisself, why once’t—”

Marcus slammed the door closed, and within moments the coach rocked slightly as Herberts climbed aboard. Soon they were off and Marcus was blessedly alone with his new bride.

Finally they were underway. Now, short of throwing herself from the moving conveyance, Honoria could not suddenly bolt. Marcus felt immensely better, realizing that had been one of his chief fears. But now… she was all his.

He clenched his hands into fists and stilled his heated impulses. For all her strength of character, Honoria was an innocent, and he was determined to make this, her first time, the best.

Teeth set against his own traitorous body, Marcus crossed his arms and prayed Herberts would make excellent speed to the hunting box. The small lodge was perfect for a seduction, and that was exactly what Marcus had in-mind—he was going to slowly, deliberately, and with all due care and passion, seduce his own wife.

Across the seat from him, Honoria tried to find something to say, something to remove the confusion and angst of the day. But she couldn’t seem to find the words to get over the awkwardness of the last few hours. All she could think of was that this was it—she was married, now and forever. And to a man she barely knew.

Well, that wasn’t exactly true. After all their competitions on the auction floor, she did know something about his character. She knew, for instance, that he rarely allowed his emotions to overcome his good sense—when he made a purchase, it was because he liked an item and knew its value. She also knew that when he’d made up his mind to possess something, God help those in his way. He was ruthless when occasion demanded it, bidding with a cold heat that bespoke great control and even greater determination.

She also had grown to know more about him these last few weeks as they’d brangled over the talisman ring, too. She now knew that he had a sharp sense of humor, that he was innately fair, and that though he seemed rather cold and aloof, he was actually a very passionate, giving man.

Honoria felt the ring through her glove. They’d used the simple band as a wedding ring, something that had surprised her. Surely Marcus had had time to get another ring this week? But perhaps with all of the arrangements to be made, he hadn’t. Or perhaps it just hadn’t been important enough.

Her shoulders sagged at the thought. Heavens, this wouldn’t do at all. She collected herself and stole a glance at him through her lashes. To her surprise, she found him watching her with an intensity that made her suck in her breath. His eyes, they were so serious; his face, so set.

She unconsciously began smoothing and resmoothing her silk skirt over her knee, the material sliding effortlessly beneath her fingertips. What did she say now? That she was sorry they’d had to marry? She’d never wanted to be someone’s duty? Especially not in this manner.

“Are you cold?”

Honoria’s gaze flew to the marquis. No, not the marquis. Her husband. Her incredibly handsome, very passionate, incredibly virile husband. The man that she should love above all others. Heat stained her cheeks and she caught herself looking down at his thighs. In a manner of speaking, those were
her
thighs now. Her spirits lifted slightly at the thought as she remembered the feel of them against her skirts, the firmness of his body, the—

“Bloody hell, don’t look at me like that.”

Her gaze flew to meet his. “Look at you how?”

“You know damn well,” he said grimly.

Her cheeks heated anew. “I’m sorry. I was just—” Her gaze flickered back to his thighs, and she noted the rippled muscles were now clenched. Her mouth went dry and she flicked the tip of her tongue to her lips.

A sound almost like a groan escaped him.

Honoria pressed a hand to her throat, aware of the tension surrounding them. Her body felt flushed and heated, and her heart thumped against the base of her throat. Her gaze met his and locked. All she said was “Marcus,” but the word was fraught with meaning, almost a pleading.

“That’s it” With that, he reached across the carriage, plucked her from her seat, and put her in his lap, his hands warm through the thin silk at her waist. He settled her there and then buried his face in her neck, his breath hot on her skin. Honoria just sat, stunned. She was now sitting on those very thighs she’d been studying so astutely. They were just as firm as she remembered, rock hard and finely muscled. And it felt… good. Very good, if she was honest.

He stirred, lifting his face and smiling at her. He touched her cheek in a careless caress. “I have wanted to hold you for a week.”

Her heart leapt. “Yes? Then why… why did you stay away?”

“Because I had already put you in one untenable situation, and my control—” A faint, lopsided smile touched his lips, self-derision on his face. “You affect me strongly.”

And he affected her. Of course, physical attraction wasn’t love. But perhaps… perhaps it was something.

“Honoria, I don’t pretend that this is the best way to begin a marriage. But it’s what we have, and considering everything, there is a very real possibility we can make this work.” The carriage swayed wildly and he caught her tight against his broad chest. Honoria let him hold her, closing her eyes and savoring the feeling of… what was it? Simple comfort in having someone to lean against? Or was it more?

They swerved again, only this time so wildly that she was almost thrown off Marcus’s lap. He had to catch her firmly to keep her from flying through the air.

“Blast Herberts!” Marcus said, glaring at the roof as if to send a heated message to the coachman. “He’s quite unusual.”

“He’s horrid. I had thought to train him to a higher level and then return him to my brother, but 1 am beginning to believe it an impossibility. The man remembers nothing of what you tell him and— But that is neither here nor there. We were talking about our marriage.”

“Yes,” she said, taking a deep breath. “We should discuss our expectations.”

His thumb began a slow, circular movement on her waist, the gesture most likely unconscious and meant to sooth. But instead of soothing, it sent a lightning strike of sensation all the way through her, heating her skin and making her breasts swell as if in anticipation.

Honoria had to swallow twice just to breathe. Her whole body was focused on the feel of him, on his thighs beneath her rump, his hand on her waist, his chest against her arm. Heat began to simmer in her stomach and move lower. She hurried to blurt out what few thoughts she could still reach through the haze of sensuality he was weaving with his touch. “I—I told my brother and sisters that we would be living with you.”

“Of course.”

She regarded him through her lashes, enjoying the splay of his strong hand over her hip. “It might be difficult at first, since you aren’t used to having a large family about.”

“I grew up in a large family.”

“Yes, but that was some time ago. I daresay you have gotten used to being alone.”

He shrugged. “Treymount House is large enough that I daresay I won’t even know your brother and sisters are there.”

“If you think so,” she said, doubt thick in her voice. “What do you expect from me, as your wife?”

For an instant it seemed as if his expression froze. But then he said slowly, “Well… I suppose I expect this.”

With that, his hand closed gently over her breast. Honoria gasped, a flash of sensation scorching through her, sending her thoughts flying in a thousand different directions. “I—I see.”

“Do you like that?” He rubbed his hand slowly over her breast, gently kneading it.

Heat built and her nipple hardened. “I—Yes. That is quite nice.” It was better than nice; it was divine. “Marcus, I—-is there anything else you think we should discuss?”

“Other than how good this feels?” he murmured, lowering his lips to her cheek and tracing a line across the crest.

She swallowed. “I just wanted to know what you expect.”

He paused, lifting his head so he could meet her gaze. “I suppose I expect decorum and honesty and… the usual sort of things.”

“What else?”

A frown darkened his face. “I don’t know. For you to oversee the household staff, which shouldn’t be too taxing. I’ve an excellent chef, Antoine. And Jeffries is quite competent to—” He frowned. “That’s not what you meant, is it?”

“Not quite. I just didn’t know… what do you expect from me as… as a wife?” She held her breath.

Realization crossed his face. “I see. Very well, then. Until you have done your duty in the way of an heir, I will also expect your fidelity to none but me.”

Her heart sank. What did he mean “until” she had done her duty? Did that mean that after that he didn’t care what she did?

He took her silence to mean something else. “I will, of course, provide you with a generous allowance and enough pin money that you should be able to enjoy life to the fullest.” He paused, then added, “And I will sponsor all of your sisters.” An ironic smile touched his lips. “As you’ve always wished.”

Honoria tried to find the words… some words, any words. By all accounts, she should be quite happy. After all, he was offering what every woman of the ton wanted, what every woman of the ton dreamed of. But somehow… she had to know.

She cleared her throat. “And when I’ve given you your heir? What did you mean by ‘until’?”

“Well-”

The carriage hit a wild bump and seemed to fly a moment before landing with a hard jounce. Marcus was tossed against the ceiling; he cursed under his breath. “Damn it, Herberts!”

Honoria held onto Marcus a bit tighter, wondering if they would make it to their destination or land in a ditch.

“Don’t worry about him,” Marcus said. “He’s actually rather competent. He has never once gotten lost, never overturned. Added to that, he makes the most damnable time.”

She relaxed a little, leaning against him, enjoying the feel of his hands as they splayed over her back, her waist, moving constantly. If he could touch her, she supposed that now she could touch him. She began with the top button of his waistcoat, unfastening it, then fastening it back.

His gaze darkened, so she said hurriedly, “You haven’t answered my question.”

“No, I haven’t.” His hand closed over hers. “Honoria, how do you want me to answer?”

Ye gods, what a question. “I—I suppose I just want to know…” She gulped, then took her emotions firmly in hand. This was not the time to become faint of heart. Collecting herself, she met his gaze Steadily. “Marcus, what happens after I’ve given you an heir? Am I free then? To do as I please?”

His brows lowered and he growled, “When you have presented me with an heir, you and I will go our separate ways. Is that what you want?” His voice was almost savage in her ear, his hands no longer gentle, but harsh in the way they held her.

Honoria closed her eyes, fighting back tears. She would never be able to simply walk away. She couldn’t do it now; she’d already given him her heart.

The thought made her throat tighten. Loving Marcus wasn’t an act she had control of… it was just something that had happened, and all she could do was watch, dismayed and flinching at the inevitable pain. But now there was nothing she could do about it. They were married and she would see him day in and day out, and as the days passed what she felt for him would only deepen. Slowly, by degrees, her heart would continue to slip away.

But in the meantime, before the time of pain and suffering, she might as well enjoy what she did have of him. Enjoy life as his one and only wife, if not his one and only love. At least until she’d presented him with an heir.