Taste of Desire (9 page)

She just kept staring at the ground
. He could see her discomfort with the situation and his mind reeled with the implications. He had assumed an ineligible lover – but pale cheeks and trembling fingers were not the mark of a woman who had known passion’s fulfillment. What type of man made love to a woman without kissing her, adoring her? Her lover must have been as inexperienced as she, a raw youth.

“Ah, well then I do have much to teach you
,” his voice caught and dropped as his body reacted to his thoughts. He would be sure that by morning she knew the full meaning of pleasure. Her cheeks would flush with color and her eyes gleam with delight. He reached out and ran a single finger down the side of her face. “No woman should be left with so little comprehension of what can be.”

“I hardly think –“
She finally lifted her head and met his gaze.

“I am your husband.
” He refused to let her look away. She shivered and then dragged her glance downward again.

His task might be more difficult than he anticipated – but he was up and ready for it
. He traced down her cheek again. Her skin was softer than a peach.

She nodded,
“Yes.” It was a whisper. “I just thought that. . .” Her diminutive shape seemed to shrivel even smaller. What had been done to her? He’d heard that young girls feared the wedding night, but she was no longer an innocent. What bungling fool had she chosen for a lover? He would have to explain that it only hurt the first time.

“I just thought that . . .” He could see her trying again to force out the words
. “I thought that it would be a marriage of convenience. I never imagined that you would want to . . .”

“I always intended a real marriage
. I would not even consider the other.” He sounded harsh, but she had taken him by surprise.

He watched her pull a deep brea
th in to her chest. She nodded once and placed her hand upon his arm and indicated they should proceed into the house.

The girl had gumption
. There was only the slightest remaining tremble in her fingers.

The walkway was fifteen bricks across. There was more space between the middle bricks than the others. Was it by design or a mistake? If she’d had a few more moments she could have counted how many more bricks it took to make a stair than a simple path.

The wedding night
. How could she not have considered that? Her body felt so hot and heavy. She had spent the last days thinking of all the reasons they should not wed and she had never even considered . . . she still could not think. Did he really expect her to do that? It was so strange being this close to him, knowing he had the right to touch her, all of her. It was hard to breathe. All of Rose’s curses rushed through her mind.

She pushed her shoulders back, but could not raise her gaze from her
half boots. She was still in her wedding dress, but her shoes were still the same practical ones she had worn for well over a year. They were somehow reassuring, reminding her who she was.

She could do this.

She let him lead her through the entry as the door swung wide.

Winters stood just inside, freshly starched.

“Your lordship, you have guests.”

Tristan turned towards his butler
. “Oh, and who would –“

“And what do you have to say for yourself
, girl?” The voice screeched.

Marguerite felt breakfast rise in her throat
. She had been wrong. The day could get worse.

“Hello, Mama,” she said. “How wonderful to see you.”

She turned and faced her husband
. She knew this had not been part of his plan.

Only by sheer perseverance did Tristan keep his jaw from dropping open. The woman who stood in the door to the parlor was more than three times the width of his wife and a full hand shorter. Her grizzled gray hair was pulled tightly back and her lips clenched shut – until they opened.

“Do you know what you’ve put me through
, girl? I’ve been so worried. Haven’t slept the night through since you’ve been gone. It’s a wonder I haven’t wasted away to nothing. Why I would never have found you at all if not for the betrothal announcement in the papers and even then it would have taken me well over a week to read it if dear Mr. Clark hadn’t noticed it and brought it to my attention. He gets the paper immediately to be sure he doesn’t miss any opportunities. Such a wise man. In any case, daughter, gather your belongings and get ready to come home. I don’t want to hear any more of this nonsense.”

T
ristan stepped forward, moving between Marguerite and her – mother. The relationship did not seem possible. He knew Marguerite’s gaze was pinned to him as it had been since the moment her mother had mentioned the announcement. Why would that upset her? Of course, he’d put in a discreet announcement.

“Forgive me
, Madam. I don’t believe we’ve been introduced. I am Tristan St. Johns, Marquess of Wimberley.”

“That’s all good and well, but it doesn’t explain what you’re doing with my daughter and why you’ve told the world you plan to marry her
. Utter nonsense.”

“I am sorry, Mrs. Wilkes.
” He hoped the name was correct. “You seem to be under a misperception.”

“You don’t intend to marry her
? Keep her in your house for several nights and then send her home? Isn’t that just like a lord, but probably no more than she deserves, and after all the worry she’s put me through.”

“I do beg you
r pardon, but I do believe you should let me explain the situation.”

“There’s no need for explanations
. I have two eyes. I can see very clearly what’s been going on.”

Marguerite slipped from behind
him and moved towards her mother.

“I am so sorry
. I didn’t mean to worry you. I just couldn’t –”

“Doesn’t matter what you could or couldn’t, what matters is what you will . . .
” Evidently Mrs. Wilkes refused to let anyone finish a sentence. “Now, Mr. Clark was kind enough to drive me into town. Can’t imagine what you were thinking taking a public conveyance. The very thought of a daughter of mine mixing with – well, the only time a decent woman comes into such company is in church or when performing works of charity, neither of which you have shown the slightest interest in. Not that you seem to have any wish to be a decent woman. How a daughter of mine –“

“Now
, Mary.” A tall, stoop-shouldered man stepped out from behind Mrs. Wilkes. “We’ve had this discussion. Marguerite is merely misguided in her youth. She didn’t mean to worry you. Once we are wed all will settle down. You’ll see.”

Marguerite staggered back as the man moved closer
. Tristan could see the tendons in her neck pull tight.

“You’ve given you mother quite a fright,” the man said
. “I’ve tried to explain that it was bridal nerves and nothing more. I know no matter what the appearance or circumstance you would never do anything to disappointment her.”

Tristan turned to Marguerite
, resisting the urge to step between her and the stranger. Instead he held out his hand to her. She grasped his fingers eagerly and he could feel hers tremble within his palm.

Her eyes closed tight, a gesture he was coming to know well
. Then she pulled in a deep breath, straightened her shoulders and looked the man straight in the face.

“It
was good of you to accompany Mama, Mr. Clark. But, there was no need for either you or Mama to make the journey. As you can see I am in no distress and well situated.”

“How can you say such a thing?
” Mrs. Wilkes began. “You are involved in some pretense of an engagement with a man who would never marry you. I don’t know what is going on, but what is clear is that you need to come home now. I need you to come home. I will have no more of this foolishness.” She looked straight at Marguerite. Cool blue eyes met cool blue eyes and for the first time the resemblance was clear.

“Mama.
”

Tristan had never heard his bride speak so forcefully
.

“If you would have given me a chance to carry out more complete introductions perhaps our dialogue would proceed mo
re smoothly. Wimberley, allow me to introduce my mother, Mrs. Mary Wilkes, and Mr. Samson Clark, her neighbor. Mama, Mr. Clark, may I present Tristan St. Johns, Marquess of Wimberley, as of this morning, my husband.”

Silence.

Then cacophony.

“Marguerite, I do not believe my ears.
” Ms. Wilkes’ gaze fastened on her daughter. Her mouth slammed shut, then open. It shut again. Then opened wide. “You have not married this man. It simply is not so. Get your things. We are leaving.”

And Mr. Clark, “That is impossible
. Marguerite and I must marry. I’ve already prepared the banns.”

“Is the carriage still outside?
” Mrs. Wilkes did not care who was talking. “Marguerite, why aren’t you moving? So help me if you don’t come this instant you will be sorry.”

Mr. Clark ignored her and continued, “Did you tell him what happened
? He would not have married you if he knew. It can still be annulled, dissolved.”

Tristan’s head spun at the continued attack on his senses
. Striding to his office and slamming the door with them all on the other side seemed the most sensible option. Only, there was Marguerite. Having set out to be her hero, it would be poor form to turn and run now.

She was fading by the instant
. First, her color had gone. Then, her shoulders had slumped. And now, if he was not mistaken her knees were starting to shake.

He took the hand he still held, and pulled her against him
. She was so small. He’d known she was delicate, but only as her soft curves pressed against him did he realize how slender she was. She was not short, but her frame was so slight, so thin that it seemed possible the very words, which flew, about the room could break her.

Unmindful of all propriety, she melted against him, head turned to his chest and he could feel the hot moisture of her breath through his shirt
. He slipped a hand around her waist.

He spoke one simple word.

“Stop.”

Mrs. Wilkes and Mr. Clark froze as if stuck in a children’s game.

“First, were formal promises made, papers signed?” Tristan put all the power of his position into his words.”

He could sense their desire to say
‘yes’. He felt the slight shake of Marguerite’s head against his chest.

Finally, Mr. Clark spoke, “No, nothing formal
. It was just understood.”

“
Then,” Tristan stated, “why do we not all proceed into the parlor and discuss this in a reasonable manner. It is true. I have married her and have full intention of continuing the union.”

Marguerite burrowed further into his chest making it hard to stride forward with dignity
. He lifted her slightly and proceeded, her feet dangling inches from the ground. He knew that if he could see her face it would match the red damask covering the chairs to perfection.

Entering the small, sunny room he sat her in a wingchair and took a position slightly behind her, but still protective
. The room was small and a short settee was the only other piece of furniture.

“Winters, please send for some tea.
” He watched Marguerite turn her head slightly at his request. “Be sure to include extra lemon.”

Mrs. Wilkes gave a humphf and Tristan was almost sure she muttered under her
breath, “You’ll go bankrupt keeping that girl in lemons. At least that’s once expense I am free of.”

He watched with interest as
she and Mr. Clark positioned themselves. Mrs. Wilkes landed on the sofa with what could only be described as a thump. Mr. Clark looked a moment at the scant few inches remaining on the couch and with a grimace took a stand similar to Tristan’s behind her – only his view was partially obscured by a large potted plant.

In any game position was power.

Mrs. Wilkes stared up at Tristan and he could feel her thoughts whirl. Her mouth opened repeatedly as if to speak and then closed again. He was reminded of a fat bluegill blowing bubbles in a sunlit pond.

Mr. Clark remained silent and glared.

Surprisingly it was Marguerite who broke the deadlock. He’d not thought she had it in her.

“Mother, whether it was your
intention or not I am now wed. Do you have anything to say beyond welcoming Wimberley to the family?”

“I certainly do,” her mother answered
. “First I will not accept that the wedding was valid. It was probably a trick on his part – trying to sneak the honey from the cow without paying for it. Men are deceitful, first your father, promising me forever and then dying, then that sneaky Dutchman, trying to wiggle his way into my good graces with worthless nonsense, and now Wimberley. Just wait, the paper is probably not even good parchment. He knew a fake marriage was the only way he’d get you. And second, even if it was a real wedding, you’re too young to be wed without my consent.”