Tender Rebel (20 page)
“Not always.”
“Be that as it may, in my case—”
“You should have let me finish, Anthony.” Her voice was sharp again, her little chin at a stubborn tilt. “I’m not asking you to give up anything. On the contrary. I insist you keep your mistresses.”
He sat back, shaking his head. “I’ve heard of accommodating wives, but don’t you think you’re overdoing it a touch?”
“I’m serious.”
“The devil you are.” He scowled, infuriated not only that she really seemed to be serious, but also with the suggestion itself. “If you think for one bloody minute I’ll agree to a marriage in name only—”
“No, no, you misunderstand.” She was frankly surprised at this show of anger on his part. She had thought he would be delighted with this arrangement. “How can I get a child if our marriage is in name only?”
“How indeed!” he snapped.
“Anthony.” She sighed, realizing he must be exhibiting wounded pride. He obviously expected a jealous wife, and that he wasn’t getting one was deflating. “I intend to be a wife to you in every way. It’s the least I can do, after you’ve come to my rescue, so to speak. If you’ll just listen to me for a moment.”
“My breath is bated.”
She sighed again. Why was he fighting her on this of all things? It had seemed the ideal solution. In fact, she couldn’t marry him otherwise.
She tried again. “I don’t see what you’re so up in the air about. You don’t love me. You said as much. And my feelings aren’t involved yet either. But I do like you, and we are—at least I am attracted to you.”
“You know bloody well the attraction is mutual!”
She ignored his snarled interruption. “That was one of my prerequisites, that the husband I finally choose at least be pleasing in appearance so that I wouldn’t mind too much—”
She broke off at his snort, knowing full well he was thinking of last night and how well she had enjoyed it. No, it wasn’t necessary to mention that with him she would find certain marital duties quite pleasurable.
“You are personable,” she continued. “And charming. There’s no denying that. And I’m sure we can deal well with each other. But because there’s no love involved, you’re not committed. Neither am I, for that matter, though I’m the one in desperate need of a husband. In your case, however, it would be unrealistic of me to expect you to be completely faithful to your vows, don’t you see? And so I’m not asking you to be. What we will have is a business arrangement, a marriage of convenience, if you like. Trust isn’t required.”
He was staring at her as if she had lost her mind. She supposed that
was
doing it up a bit much, but how else could she put a nice dressing on the simple fact that she didn’t trust him and probably never would? Hell’s teeth, he was the first to admit he was a rake. And a rake doesn’t reform unless his heart is caught—her grandfather’s own words, and words she
could well believe because they made sense. Anthony had no business getting annoyed with her.
She
should be angry that it was necessary to even make this stipulation.
“Perhaps we should just forget it,” she said stiffly.
“A splendid notion finally,” he drawled.
Her lips thinned out at his quick agreement to
that
. “I didn’t want to marry you to begin with. I told you so.”
“What?” He sat bolt upright. “Now wait a minute, Roslynn. I didn’t mean not getting married was a splendid notion. I thought you meant—”
“Well, I didna!” she snapped, quite losing her temper at last. “And if you willna agree to keep your mistresses, then we’ve nothing further to discuss, have we? It isna as if I’m no’ asking for an equal share of your body. But I ken what you are, mon, and that your eyes will be wandering again once the novelty wears thin. You canna help it. It’s your nature.”
“Bloody hell.”
She went on as if she hadn’t heard his curse. “But I was willing to have you anyway, fool that I am. You would have given me bonny bairns. You would have saved me from Geordie. That was enough. I wasna asking for more.”
“Perhaps I am willing to give you more. Or hadn’t that thought crossed your mind when you came up with this magnanimous gesture?”
Roslynn stiffened under his derision, but she was in control again. “It comes down to one simple thing, Anthony. I could never trust you where other women are concerned. If I should…should come to care for you eventually, a betrayal would be too painful. I would rather know from the start that you won’t be faithful to me; then our relationship will progress no
further than it is now. We would be friends as well as—”
“Lovers?”
“Yes, well, there you have it. But since you won’t agree, that’s an end to it, then, isn’t it?”
“Did I say I wouldn’t agree?” His voice was calm again, but it was a forced calm. His set expression, his rigid posture, said he was still simmering. “Let me see if I have this right, my dear. You want to get a child by me, but at the same time you don’t want my full devotion. You will act the wife in every way, but I’m to go on as I have been, seeing as many women as I like.”
“Discreetly, Anthony.”
“Ah, yes, discreetly. I can see where you might not want it bandied about, especially since you’re pushing me out the door before I’ve even gotten inside it. So if I don’t come home two or three nights a week, you’ll be happy, I take it?”
She wouldn’t deign to answer that. “You agree?”
“Of course.” His smile was brittle, lacking warmth, but Roslynn didn’t notice. “What man could resist having his piece of cake so thickly frosted?”
Roslynn didn’t know if she liked that analogy. She didn’t know if she liked his surrender either, now that she had it. He certainly hadn’t argued very long. A token resistance, then grudging acceptance. Hah! Wretched man. He was undoubtedly delighted with her terms, and now she had to live with them.
T
he Eden coach was well sprung, comfortable, with conveniences in the way of pillows and blankets, glasses and champagne. Roslynn had no need of the former, her husband’s shoulder doing quite nicely in that capacity. She declined the champagne as well, having tipped enough glasses in toasts after the ceremony.
They had really done it, gotten married. Made love one night, married the next. It was so incredible that Roslynn had to wonder if unconsciously she hadn’t wanted this to happen all along, if this wasn’t why she had gone to Anthony’s last night instead of going straight to Silverley as she had intended. But no, it wasn’t going to be an ideal marriage. She had seen to that with her own perversity and mustn’t forget it. And yet she still had him, didn’t she? He was her husband, part-time or not.
She smiled, snuggling up close to him, glad that she was feeling just intoxicated enough not to feel self-conscious about it. Anthony was sipping champagne himself, staring thoughtfully out the window. The silence was companionable, the champagne she had already consumed making her drowsy.
She wasn’t sure why they weren’t staying the night at Silverley, as she had assumed they would. Anthony had said something about not wanting to worry about the noise, and his own bed, and starting things out right. It had sounded rather ominous at the time, the part about the noise, but she couldn’t remember why
now. Probably only bride’s jitters. After all, she had just signed away her independence, giving herself into the hands of a man she barely knew, and one who was full of surprises, least of which was that he wanted to marry her.
She had every right to be nervous before and after the fact. Hadn’t he surprised her twice today, first by arguing about her conditions, and second by signing the marriage contract without having read it first? Nicholas, who was witnessing the signing, had protested. She had herself, for that matter. But even after signing the damn thing, Anthony had still refused to read it. And now he was taking her back to London, the last thing she’d expected for tonight.
Frankly, she would have felt a lot more secure staying with the Edens this first night of her marriage. But she had made enough demands for one day and so hadn’t protested when Anthony cut the celebrating short to leave. Granted, they’d had an early dinner, and the wedding ceremony had taken no time at all. It wasn’t that late in the evening, though it would probably be midnight before they arrived at Anthony’s town house.
She supposed she ought to take advantage of the ride and get some sleep while she could. She smiled again, for her first thoughts on seeing the blankets and pillows piled on the seats hadn’t been about sleep. She had been appalled to think they would be having their wedding night in the coach. After all, Nettie had been relegated to a smaller carriage to follow at a slower pace. They were alone, just the two of them, in a coach that was certainly roomy enough to accommodate them for anything they might have in mind. The yellow glow of the coach lamp gave off a soft, romantic light. But no, Anthony had only suggested
she nap for the return ride to London. He hadn’t even taken advantage of their solitude to kiss her, just pulled her close and settled her against him.
She could blame the champagne for making her think her wedding night was going to start early. She wasn’t even sure she was going to have a wedding night. After the fuss Anthony had made over her conditions, even if he did agree to them, she wouldn’t be surprised if he just dropped her off and went on to visit one of his many women. And what could she say about it? In his own words, she had pushed him out the door.
Anthony heard his wife’s sigh and wondered what she was thinking. Probably devising more ways to keep herself detached from this marriage. It was laughable, it really was, but of course he hadn’t thought so earlier. Here he was taking a wife for the first time in his life, and she wanted to be no more than a mistress, and not even a possessive one. Did she feel nothing for him that she could blithely let him go from her arms to those of another woman? If he had wanted to continue to tomcat about town, he could have remained a bachelor.
It was perhaps a half hour later that the pistol shot shattered the quiet of the late hour and the coach came to a jostling halt. Roslynn jerked upright, blinking her eyes awake, in time to hear Anthony’s soft curse.
“Have we arrived?” she asked, confused, as she glanced out the window to see nothing but pitch black.
“Not quite, my dear.”
“Then—”
“I believe we’re about to be robbed.”
Her eyes swung to his. “Highwaymen? Then why are you just sitting there, mon? Are you no’ going to do something?”
“My dear girl, this is England, and robbery is such a common occurrence that you come to think of it as donations to the needy. No one in his right mind travels these roads at night with anything of real value. We empty our pockets and go on our way, with no real harm done. It will be over in a matter of moments.”
She stared at him, aghast. “Just like that? And what if I dinna want to be robbed?”
He sighed. “I assume this is your first time?”
“Of course it is! And I’m amazed that you can sit there calmly doing nothing.”
“And what would you suggest I do when I haven’t a weapon at my disposal?”
“
I
have one.”
He caught her wrist as she reached for her boot and the concealed dirk. “Don’t even think about it,” he warned.
“But—”
“No!”
She sat back in a huff, glaring at him. “A fine thing when a husband willna protect his wife from brigands.”
“Give over. Roslynn,” he replied impatiently. “It’s only a few pounds and trinkets.”
“And a fortune in jewels in my portmanteau.”
He gave her a level look, glanced at the bag on the seat opposite them, the same damn bag she had carelessly left in the hired hack last night, and snarled, “Bloody hell! You
would
cart about a fortune, wouldn’t you? Very well.” A quick examination of the interior inspired no strategy. His eyes came back to settle on Roslynn speculatively. “Toss your cloak back over your shoulders…yes.” The deep scoop of her décolletage revealed the upper swell of her
breasts, but the neckline was rather demure actually, in comparison to some others in this day and age. “Now, lower your dress a little—”
“Anthony!”
“This is no time for offended modesty,” he explained wearily as he moved to the seat across from her. “You’re to be a distraction.”
“Och, well, in that case.”
“That’s quite low enough, my dear.” He frowned at her. “
You
might not care if any number of women view my body in the nude, but I’m not quite so generous when it comes to other men and your charms.”
“I was only trying to help,” Roslynn retorted, annoyed with the reminder of the bargain she had insisted on.
“Commendable, but we want the chap to ogle you, not bust his breeches.”
“Bust his breeches? Whatever are you talking about?”
He finally smiled. “I will be delighted to demonstrate at another time.”
Anthony might have said more, but the highwayman made his appearance just then, yanking the door open and thrusting his head inside. Roslynn gave a little start. It was one thing to talk about being robbed even when you were about to be robbed, but quite another thing to meet the robber face-to-face.
The coach was high enough off the ground that only the man’s upper torso was framed in the doorway, but it was a huge torso, great-brawny shoulders in a too-tight jacket, dark, scraggly hair on a large head wrapped in a dirty scarf. Fat fingers gripped an old, rusty pistol, also thrust into the coach and pointed directly at Anthony.
Roslynn could do nothing but stare at the pistol,
her heart beginning a drumroll. This was not how she had imagined it…well, she hadn’t really imagined anything. Not knowing any highwaymen personally, how was she to know how very dangerous they could be? But she had goaded Anthony into doing something, so it would be her fault if he got shot. And for what? Some stupid jewels that were replaceable?
She glanced at Anthony, wondering how she could tell him to forget it, when the highwayman spoke up. “Evenin’, m’lord,” he said congenially enough, his voice muffled behind the scarf. “Good o’ ye t’ sit tight and await me, it was. ‘Ad a bit o’ trouble wi’ me ’orse after lettin’ yer driver know what’s what. But I’ll be relievin’ ye o’ yer—cor!”
