Unmasking the Spy (28 page)

“I hope you’re happy with
yourself,” she seethed, and felt vindicated in her suspicions when a
guilt-ridden expression of pure panic crossed his face before he schooled his
features into a bland mask.

“What are you talking about?” he
asked.

“My dowry!” she cried, throwing
her palms up in a furious gesture of impotent anger.

“Your what?”

“I know you married me for my
money, so there’s no sense playing games with words. You wanted it and now you
have it, so I hope you’re happy.”

“Was I also after your title,
then?”

“It passes to my son, not you. I
suppose I can at least be glad of that.”

“I see,” he said, his tone
moderated and cold. “Look around you, Alicia. Are we in a mail coach?”

“Humph. I imagine you’ll be
improving the number and quality of everything you own, now that you have a
large chunk of my father’s money at your control.”

“And I imagine that you,” he
answered, staring at her without blinking, “are nothing but a shallow, spoiled,
ignorant brat who has never once held a single thought for anyone else in her
silly little head. I don’t care a button for what you might or might not
imagine. To the devil with what you think.”

Alicia gasped and crossed her
arms tightly. “Well, you get what you pay for,” she muttered. “And nothing less
than you deserve.”

“I didn’t pay for you, Alicia.”

“Precisely,” she snapped and
turned the back of her head to him in order to stare out the window.

“And what, pray tell, is that
supposed to mean?”

“You’ll find out soon enough,”
she murmured.

Lightning fast, his hand shot out
and gripped her chin so hard she was sure there would be bruising. He forced
her face toward his and asked in an icy tone, “Shall I assume my blushing bride
has earned her lightskirt reputation?”

A hot stain of color flooded
Alicia’s face, but she glared at him without speaking.

“I see,” he continued, with a
pointed acknowledgement of her fiery blush. “And were you intimate with your
ridiculous pustule of a fiancé before you had the misfortune to become
compromised with one such as me?”

Alicia flicked a glance out the
window and swallowed hard before giving a quick, convulsive nod.

Something flashed in his eyes and
he pushed her from him in a quick, disgusted thrust. “You’re lying,” he said in
that horrible, calm voice.

Although Alicia shook her head,
she felt the telltale heat cover her entire face.

“How many men has it been?” he
mocked. “A dozen? A hundred? Do you even recall?”

“The number doesn’t matter and
won’t change,” Alicia ground out between clenched teeth, hot tears of rage
stinging her eyes. “I plan to keep my vows, distasteful as the task may be.”

“So I am distasteful,” he said
with a harsh, mirthless chuckle. “Fear not, wife. I will consummate this
marriage, as is my right and my duty, but I will never touch you again. I have
no wish to consign my unborn children to the questionable influence of having a
mother like you.”

Alicia stared at him, speechless,
as the coach rolled to a stop. He snatched his greatcoat from the seat across
from them and leapt to the ground.

“Where- where are you going?” she
stammered.

“For a walk,” he replied in that
cold, mocking voice. “Don’t worry – I’ll never leave you.” He gave another bark
of self-deprecating laughter. “If you get out, don’t go far… we’ll be leaving
again as soon as the horses have been changed.”

He strode off, without another
word, and without bothering to help her down.

To be honest, Alicia couldn’t
blame him.

*          *          *

Ian’s furious walk took twice as
long as the procurement of fresh horses, so his darling wife was already seated
inside the coach when he hauled himself up and in. Neither spoke nor looked at
the other, and the next four hours were spent in stony silence until the coach
pulled up at another stop to change the horses one last time. As it was nearing
eight o’clock, he invited her down from the coach to partake of what supper
they could before the final leg of the trip. She agreed with alacrity. Other
than that small exchange, no other words were spoken until the coach pulled up
at Heatherley, sometime well after midnight.

He led the new Mrs. Morrissey up
the walk and in the door. He made the introductions to the few servants who
greeted them, hyperaware of their carefully concealed surprise.

 Knowing his sisters were abed –
and hardly expecting him to bring home a wife, as he hadn’t written to share
the joyous tidings – he marched her up the stairs to his quarters and directly
into his bedchamber. Just the thought of her long-abandoned virginity steamed
his already simmering blood past the boiling point.

What a fool he’d been to be taken
in by her classic beauty and seeming innocence! He’d misjudged her character
even worse than could be expected. Although she’d had the grace to blush, that
very fact proclaimed she’d been free with her favors. He’d been right about her
from the start. London ladies were all alike, after all – selfish, flighty,
untrustworthy creatures fit for breeding and hostessing, not love and
friendship.

He’d been taken in by the
performance of a consummate actress, but flaunting her careless promiscuity had
been the wrong thing to do. No matter how many lovers she’d entertained in the
past, he intended to make her wedding night a ravishment she’d never forget.

“Strip.”

“What?” she gasped, her hand
flying to her throat.

“Don’t play the innocent with
me,” he commanded. “You’ve already admitted the lie to that claim. Strip.”

She glanced around the well-lit
room, backing up until her legs brushed against the foot of his massive
four-poster bed.

“Not for your husband?” he
taunted, advancing on her like a lion to his prey. She gripped her upper arms
and closed her eyes as though he wouldn’t be sneering at her if she couldn’t
see it happen.

With a growl, Ian snatched her up
by the waist and tossed her into the center of the bed. The breath whooshed out
of her lungs, but she kept her eyelids squeezed tight and her fists balled at
her sides.

Ian crawled over her, jerking her
skirts up over her hips so that her most private of areas was laid bare for him
to see.

“This?” he jeered, moving his
finger along her skin in an ever-shrinking circle. “This is what you give away
to anyone who wants it?”

She jumped when his finger
touched the edge of her curly hairs.

Ian pushed himself to his knees
to loosen his pants just enough to spring free. “Open your eyes,” he commanded.
“I want you to see what you’re getting, because this is the last time you’ll
have it.”

Alicia cracked open one eye, took
one frightened look, mashed her eyelids shut again, and shook her head
violently.

“No? You can’t tell me no,” he
scoffed, leaning over her and positioning himself to thrust. “I’m your husband.
I own you. I own your body. I can have it whenever I like.”

He nudged the tight, dry opening
with the tip of his member and tried to decide whether he could bring himself
to take his wife in anger when a single tear escaped from under her quivering
lashes and traced a solemn path into her hair.

Devil take it. He couldn’t do it.

A growl rumbled deep in his
throat and she jumped again, her whole body trembling with fear and
trepidation.  Ian gritted his teeth and changed position so that he lay against
her side, rather than pushing at the entrance between her legs.  Against his
will, he leaned forward and kissed her temple where the tear had left its damp
residue.

“Don’t cry,” he whispered.

Another tear slid from her lashes
and he brushed it away with a feathery kiss. A sob hitched in her throat. She
opened her mouth to take a ragged breath and he took the opportunity to claim
it with his own.

At first, she didn’t respond. He
slid his hand across the bodice of her carriage dress and squeezed the breast
beneath. She still made no effort to return his kisses, but her eyelids
twitched and her breathing became shallow.

He peppered trails of kisses
across her face and down her neck. Her breasts swelled beneath his hands and
her hard little nipples scraped against his palms.

Propping himself up on one elbow,
Ian slid his hand down past the fabric bunched at her waist to the curls below.
This time, moisture greeted his fingertips. Her thighs trembled at his touch,
but when he slid one finger into her moist heat, she gasped and her tongue
found his.

Ian needed no more invitation.

Without stopping his gentle
torture, he slid in below his finger. Kissing and thrusting and stroking, his
boots scratched against the blanket and her clenched fists found their way to
his hair, forcing his mouth to hers.

The moment after she shattered,
he found his own release. He collapsed on top of her and lay there for several
minutes, panting from exertion and listening to the rapid beating of her heart.

Lethargic relaxation settled
through him and he rolled to one side. He wondered how shocked his household
would be to find them there in the morning, sleeping fully clothed in the bed.
He tucked himself back into his pantaloons and turned to his wife. Another tear
ran down her cheek and she had not yet opened her eyes.

Feeling guilty for some reason he
couldn’t quite name, Ian sat up and tugged her skirts back down over her legs.
He got to his feet and rung the bell for someone to bring the new Mrs.
Morrissey her trousseau and other personal items. He didn’t move her since he
planned to bed down elsewhere for the night.

He doubted he’d get much sleep
anyway.

*          *          *

Even before she opened her eyes
to the spacious, warm-hued bedchamber, Alicia knew she wasn’t in Chadwick 
House. The carriage ride to Heatherley had been awful – she certainly hadn’t
handled the explanation of her non-virginity well – but every emotional second
of last night’s consummation was etched into her brain.

She’d let him do it. Worse, she’d
encouraged him.

Granted, he was her husband, but
her husband was no Rogue. How could she love one man and make love to another?
Alicia grimaced into her pillow and faced an unflattering truth. Perhaps she
wasn’t in love with Rogue. Perhaps what she’d felt for him was passion, coupled
with the overwhelming desire for adventure and romance.

Alicia swallowed. Perhaps she had
been in love with the idea of Rogue, but not the man himself. After all, what
did she know about him? He had a sick sister and cut a dashing figure when
dressed in black. Hardly an auspicious start for a lifelong commitment.

No doubt what he felt for her was
lust, not love. He didn’t even know her true name. Oh, why had she been so
determined to give her virginity for a dream?

Sighing at her stupidity, Alicia
rolled over and sat up in the big bed. She might have had a better beginning
with her new husband if she’d bothered thinking of him first. Although
unromantic, Ian was never malicious, snide, spiteful or cruel. In short, not a
bad person. She should have been dancing in her excitement to escape Louis with
such a respectable sort.

He hadn’t even forced her
attentions last night, when it would have been within his rights to do so.
Despite how angry she’d made him, he had cared for her feelings and wanted to
make her enjoy the encounter as much as possible.

At the least, she ought to return
the favor and try to make their marriage as tolerable as possible.

He’d said he never planned to
touch her again. She wasn’t sure she could live without passion, now that she
knew its intoxicating power. But in order to coax him back to her bed, she
would first have to inveigle her way into his heart. His respect, if not his
love, was a prize to win at all costs.

The first step would be to find
him. She couldn’t commit herself to his lifelong happiness from the bedroom.
Alicia tugged the bellpull and walked across the carpeted floor to the window.
She pushed aside one of the thick gold curtains and took in her first view of
the lawns at Heatherley.

Heavenly!

The lush grass stretched to the
horizon. Birds alighted from treetops and a large blue lake shone in the
morning sun. A stable next to a well-worn track proclaimed the popularity of
horseback riding. Cultivated rows of green behind trim hedges indicated a
large, well-kept garden. What a beautiful home!

She was still smiling out the
window when a maid appeared to help her dress, and Alicia tripped down the
steps in her eagerness to explore the grounds outside. First, she found four
women, exiting the breakfast-room with equal expressions of surprise.

Alicia stumbled to a stop and
stared back.

Any fear that he kept a harem of houris disappeared
the moment she realized they were female versions of Ian. They were dark-haired
and beautiful, and seemed to be near Alicia’s age. The tallest one wore an
exquisite morning dress, her black hair piled in high fashion atop her head as
though she just stepped from a fashion plate. The shorter, fidgety one to the
left crossed her arms and looked Alicia up and down. The skinny one to the
right brought an ivory fan from out of nowhere and began cooling her face.