The Rebel Bride (20 page)

She silently congratulated herself, for even to her own critical ears she had spoken with a marked lack of concern, as if his presence were a mundane occurrence, not at all above the commonplace. She held his gaze and noticed with satisfaction that his brows arched in fleeting surprise. Oh, yes, he’d expected her to behave quite diferently, perhaps with docility, perhaps with fear, but certainly not with sublime indifference.

After a moment he said, even as he brushed a fleck of nothing in particular from his sleeve, “Yes, I slept quite well. I would have preferred to have you in my arms all night, but my dreams were passing good. And you, sweetheart? Did you miss me during the night?”

Kate patted her hair again, quite unnecessarily. “My dreams passed as well as yours, no doubt. Now, give me but a moment longer, sir, and I shall join you for breakfast. It does seem to be a very lovely day, does it not? That is very fine, Anne, you have performed wonders with my hair.”

She rose and shook out her skirts, all the while watching him carefully. She was rewarded with a frown on his brow, for instead of wearing one of the elegant gowns he had bought for her, she had insisted on donning her own gown. It was sadly in need of pressing, and she delighted in each wrinkle.

Julien turned abruptly to the maid. “You may go now. I think you’ve done quite enough for her ladyship.”

He didn’t turn back to Kate until he had carefully schooled his features and gotten control of himself. She had wanted to anger him, and he had most willingly obliged her. Gentle, reasonable treatment from a loving husband was not, at least for this morning, what his dear
wife would tolerate. Would she always surprise him? He hoped so, he surely did. However, this morning, he would have preferred a kiss, perhaps even a word of endearment.

He offered her his arm, saying, “How very charming you are this morning, my love. Marriage obviously agrees with you. Come, your breakfast will get cold. As you said, it’s a lovely day. I know you and your enthusiasm for all things outdoors. Surely you don’t want to waste it.”

Once seated at the table, she gave her full attention to her breakfast. After eating her fill, she spent an extraordinarily long time pushing her cold eggs back and forth on her plate. Bored with this pastime, she chanced to look up and saw Julien gazing at her, his eyes alight with amusement.

She felt a bolt of panic, then anger, then she calmed herself. Lightness, she was all sweetness and light. “Do forgive me, sir. I was raised to think it rude to stare at others who haven’t yet finished their meal, but then, perhaps you are in a hurry to quit these rooms and think that I am much too slow at my breakfast. Do allow me a moment longer.” She gave the eggs another couple of shoves.

He laughed, he actually laughed. “As to the urgencies of your breakfast, I fear that your toast is by now like dried leather and your bacon stiff with age. Those poor eggs have long since plummeted over the precipice.”

“Perhaps they have. Now, I long to hear what delights you’ve doubtless planned on this altogether lovely day. Any drugs, my lord? Any threats, perhaps?”

She was good, quite good. He drew out his watch and consulted it. “My pleasure, my dear, is that you’re packed in an hour. Why the look of surprise? We are, after all, on our wedding trip. We’re leaving for Switzerland this morning.”

“Switzerland? I’ve never cared for Switzerland.”

“Really? How very curious of you. I wasn’t under the impression that you’d ever traveled to that country.
Could I be mistaken? Did I completely misunderstand Sir Oliver? Did he give you a grand tour as a child?”

“Very well, I haven’t visited Switzerland, that’s true enough, but I’ve been given to understand that it is quite inferior to England.”

He burst into laughter.

H
e laughed himself silly. She wanted to hurl strips of her stone-cold bacon at him, but suddenly he stopped, drew a steadying breath, and said, even as he gave her a huge, white-toothed grin, “I thought you were singularly undisturbed by other people’s opinions, Kate. I must confess that I find myself somewhat disappointed that you don’t wish to form your own independent judgment.” Then he had the gall to sigh like a martyr. “I’d hoped that, unlike most other women, you would not be content to merely parrot words. I fear I hear the sound of poor Bleddoes’s absurd pompous opinions.”

“You’re a bloody sod, well, perhaps not that, but it isn’t true, as you must know. I couldn’t bear Robert and his prosing and his prudery and . . . all right, so he did say on occasion that Switzerland wasn’t—damn you, you are a sod, and I won’t sit here and be ridiculed.” She jumped to her feet, sending her cold eggs plopping over the edge of the plate, her cheeks so flushed it looked as if she had the fever.

He sat back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. “An hour, Kate?”

She flung her napkin on the table, turned on her heel, and strode like an angry boy from the room.

Julien remained seated for a moment longer, looking at the recently slammed door. It had never before occurred to him to bless his quickness of wit. It came to him with something of a shock that she was behaving more arrogantly than he had done himself when trying to bring her to heel in London. That she would ride roughshod over him given the least opportunity, he did
not doubt. For a fleeting instant he envisioned his life as a marital battleground.

As he rose to ring for a lackey, he wondered idly how long she would insist upon wearing the same gown.

The post chaise he’d procured for their trip to Switzerland was well-sprung and elegantly furnished with blue-satin squabs and warm blue-velvet rugs. But though the horses stood at over fifteen hands and were blessed with broad chests and powerful thighs, Julien found that they didn’t possess the speed of his own bays.

He watched his new wife with some amusement as she tried valiantly not to appear interested in the French countryside. He well understood her dilemma and thought her altogether adorable. He also thought her so appealing that he had to shift position several times for the pain it brought to his groin.

They ate their lunch in the small town of Brayville, drinking the local cider and feasting on cold chicken, cheese, and crunchy warm bread. Feeling fortified by the heady cider, Julien found himself, not long after their return to the carriage, clearing his throat to gain her attention.

“I ask you to listen to me for a moment.”

“Oh?” A brow went up a good inch. “Have you planned a delightful detour from our trip to Switzerland? Are we going to the Barbary Coast? Perhaps you’ll be so infuriated with me that you’ll sell me to a slaver?”

“Good God, woman. What do you read?”

“I read everything. I’m not ignorant, nor am I stupid.”

“I never believed you were—well, perhaps just a bit of both of those things, but not an overabundance. Now, listen to me, for now I’m perfectly serious. My intention is to cease these meaningless hostilities between us. You thought me cruel, perhaps overbearing in my treatment of you in London. No, don’t interrupt me, let me finish. When you refused me, I was forced to admit to myself that I had rushed into the matter too quickly, that I hadn’t given you sufficient time to judge your feelings for me. I never meant to insult you. Perhaps I am overly
proud—arrogant perhaps, as Harry said—but I found I simply couldn’t lose you.”

He paused for a moment, thinking that no man had ever before so abased himself. He looked at her searchingly. His speech didn’t seem to be going as well as he had expected, but he pursued it anyway, speaking more rapidly.

“I knew that I couldn’t continue to see you at Brandon Hall, for your father would force you to meet with me and perhaps try to beat you into submission. You must understand, Kate, I couldn’t allow you to remain under his roof any longer than necessary. That’s why I arranged for you to go to London, to Lady Bellingham. There, at least, I knew I could control the situation. You thought me cruel, hard. I tell you now that I had no other choice in the matter. My intention was and still is to do what is best for both of us. That I forced you to marry me was not a reprehensible act. I had to wed you as speedily as possible after your flight to Paris, for had I not, had I left you alone to your own devices, you would eventually have had to return to England, your reputation ruined.

“As for my threat about the drug, I don’t know if such a drug exists. Perhaps opium, but it’s nasty stuff and I would never give you such a thing. It’s just that I couldn’t think of any other way to secure your agreement.”

“There was no drug?” She was appalled at her own gullibility.

“No. And I wouldn’t have you think me a licentious rake, for I would have never forcibly taken you aboard my yacht.”

“You’re quite right, I’m both ignorant and stupid. It’s also clear that I’m a fool and that you have admirable sangfroid, my lord, for I didn’t ever doubt that you were utterly ruthless and implacable in gaining your ends. No drug! Damn you to the Devil.”

“Perhaps it was merely that I felt compelled to use whatever tactics I needed to secure you as my wife.”

“Nothing has changed. I told you I never wanted to marry any man, not even your magnificent self. But you
wouldn’t heed me. Well, my lord, you’ve paid dear for a wife who loathes you. I swear to you that you’ll never enjoy your purchase.”

She’d gotten to him at last, the damnable shrew. She was illogical, stubborn, ah, but passionate. “Don’t rant nonsense at me, Kate. It now does you no credit. We’re married and that is the end to it. You speak of my purchase. Let me tell you, madam, you’re now the one being arrogant and implacable.”

“By God, you dare to criticize my actions? You pass all bounds. You exceed all probabilities, you outrank even the rankest species that now exists on this earth.”

“You need to close down that malicious brain of yours.” He leaned over and dropped a hand on her shoulder, gripping it for an instant. She tried to pull away, but he grasped both her shoulders, jerking her close to his face. He’d meant to give her a good yelling-at, but found instead that his body went from anger to lust. It was all of an instant, and he hated it, but he couldn’t seem to help himself. In a swift motion he cupped her face between his hands and pressed his mouth against hers. Dear God, she was so warm and sweet and he wanted her to open her mouth for him, but she didn’t, of course. She tried to twist free of him, but he simply lifted her bodily and held her firmly in the circle of his arms. His hands were on her breasts, kneading her, feeling their weight in his hands, learning her, and he thought he’d die if he couldn’t have her now, this very instant. He flattened his hand on her belly, cursing the damned cloth that kept her from him, and his hand went lower, and his breathing hitched painfully.

At that moment the chaise lurched violently, throwing them both to the opposite seat. As they sprawled on the cushions, Julien automatically released her. She scrambled away from him, clutching desperately at the door. He grabbed her hand and pulled her upright opposite him. All desire and anger left him as he stared at her white, shocked face.

Julien turned and looked out the chaise window. They were moving at a comfortable pace again. He
methodically straightened his clothes and his cravat. He felt rather irritated at her. For God’s sake, she was still fully clothed. If he had his way, she’d be sitting there naked and white and soft and he’d be sweating and heaving with lust just looking at her. Still, he had scared the bloody hell out of her. But she was his wife, she was his and . . . “I apologize for being so enthusiastic. I didn’t mean to scare you.” He was beginning to feel the clumsy fool and thus spoke with a harshness of voice he didn’t intend. He saw her eyes darken with sudden anger. Trust her not to hold to calm and control for very long.

He drew a deep breath and continued in a more controlled voice. “The fact is, we’re man and wife. Can you not doubt that I wish to consummate our marriage, or, for that matter, that I wish you to bear my children? Although you cannot yet bring yourself to admit it, ours is a love match and not a marriage of convenience.”

“I would rather die than let you touch me, do you understand, my lord? Ours is no love match, for I feel none for you, and your treatment of me—well, you speak well, my lord, as fluently as the devil trying to bargain for a new soul. But you cloak your lust with words of love. You disgust me, Julien. Do you hear?”

He curbed his fury. To match her anger would achieve naught. She was overwrought, and his sudden passion for her had made her totally unreasonable. He said with surprising gentleness, “Enough said, Kate. Believe me, though, I will make you my wife, in every way. I love you, and soon you’ll come to trust me.”

“You dream, my lord, you believe your own fantasies. In truth, I would sooner trust any one of the Carlton House set than you, and Harry has told me that group is reprehensible, dissolute and hardened gamesters.”

“Harry doesn’t know the half of it,” he said. “Actually, I’m not at all a hardened gamester.”

She rearranged her bonnet, which was sitting precariously atop her hair, folded her hands primly in her lap, and looked out, unseeing, onto the French countryside.

* * *

They arrived in Geneva late in the afternoon three days later. Kate found she simply couldn’t restrain her appreciation when Lake Geneva came into view. Though it was early September, the mountains surrounding the lake were snowcapped, and the setting sun cast a fairyland glow on the water.

“Oh goodness, how lovely it is.”

“Yes, it is rather beautiful. I’m delighted you’ve changed your opinion.”

She drew back into the chaise and fastened her eyes on the cushions. “Well, perhaps it is passable.”

She couldn’t prevent her eyes from going to his face, and she saw his brows rise in ironic amusement. She flushed, mortified at her own churlishness, and wanted to cosh him at the same time for making her so very much aware of it.

Soon, though, she became absorbed with the endless rows of quaint shops that lined the cobblestone streets, each sporting colorful signs and displays. The Swiss themselves, no less colorfully arrayed than their shop fronts, bustled out onto the walkways, apparently hurrying to their homes for the evening.

The Coeur de Lyon was a two-storied, gabled brick building of some antiquity, which stood back from the street, nearly hidden from view by giant elm trees. The courtyard surged with activity, and no sooner did their chaise pull to a halt than two stable lads appeared to grab the reins.

She allowed Julien to assist her from the chaise and was thankful that she had done so, for her legs were weak from their long-cramped position. She looked up to see a very rotund, quite bald little man emerge from the
auberge
to greet them.

“My lord March. What a long time it has been. A pleasure to see you again, my lord, a pleasure indeed.” He bowed, all gracious compliance and deference.

“Good evening, Perchon. Your establishment prospers, I see. This is my wife, and it is her first visit to your beautiful country.”

Monsieur Perchon beamed, bowed, and turned to give instructions in rapid French to two of his henchmen.

“Now, my lord, my lady, if you will please to follow me. Your accommodations, I assure you, are quite in order.”

She was somewhat surprised that Monsieur Perchon spoke English so well. She was soon to discover that he spoke French, German, and Italian with equal ease.

A slender, brown-eyed maid, who reminded Kate of a small, timid doe, was assigned to see to her comfort, and as she prepared to follow the maid up the winding wooden stairs to her chamber, Julien called to her, “Put on a warm cloak, Kate, and we’ll explore before dinner.”

It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him that she had no such warm cloak, when Julien, apparently guessing her objection, added smoothly, “You’ll find such a cloak in your large trunk, my dear. It is, I believe, of blue velvet and lined with ermine.”

Ha, he’d bought it for her. She’d see him in hell before she’d wear any of the clothes he’d bought her. “The pelisse I’m wearing will be perfectly adequate, thank you, sir.”

She felt rather deflated when he turned away from her and said over his shoulder, “As you wish. Surely you know best. I will appreciate having a hot-blooded woman for my wife. I’ll expect you in the parlor in five minutes.”

She untied the strings on her pelisse and tossed it, not without some violence, onto the bed. She moved to the small, blazing fire and warmed her hands for a moment before flinging herself down into a chair. Orders, nothing but orders from his lordship. She gnawed at her thumbnail and tried to cool her anger, for she had learned through painful and humiliating experience that such violent emotion dulled her wits and slowed her tongue. She forced herself to relax and settle back into the chair. She looked dispassionately at her chewed nail and thought, not without satisfaction, that the last three days had been more of a trial to Julien than to her, for after their brief and violent scene in the chaise, she’d treated him with a kind of indifferent courtesy. Instinctively she knew it was
her best weapon against him. It had, at least, kept him in check.