Chapter Four
She was out for blood.
Benjamin could see the lust in his new bride’s eyes and he would be lying if he claimed it wasn’t a look that caused his cock to twitch in his trousers.
Combined with her comely face and her shapely curves, he was starting to appreciate this match more than he wanted to admit.
While he was eager to take Mrs. Dove-Lyon down a few notches from the pedestal upon which she’d obviously set herself in society, he had to grudgingly admit that, in this instance, she had known what she was doing.
He couldn’t have picked a better mate to pair himself with.
Not only was she increasing, giving him a second chance for the child he’d lost, but he had always found it incredibly appealing to engage in sexual activity with his wife when Daria had been pregnant.
There was something almost taboo about the act that he’d found quite intriguing.
He winced. Maybe he truly was the deprived son of the bastard he always claimed his father had been.
“Is something wrong?”
He blinked, realizing she must have noticed his action and thought it had something to do with their current conversation. He certainly didn’t want to admit what he’d been pondering, so he said evenly, “Not at all. I was just going to say this won’t be an easy task to undertake.”
“I didn’t expect it would be.” Her blue eyes lit up unexpectantly. “Tell me more about yourself.”
He wasn’t sure he liked the line of this conversation. With a frown, he replied, “What do you want to know?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know.” Her focus swept his form and his cock’s interest was piqued further. “You have a physique I was not expecting. Do you enjoy riding?”
He snorted. I’d like to ride you… “Not particularly. But it’s nice to know that you had such a high opinion of me before we met.
” When she rolled her eyes, he added, “To sate your curiosity, I used to be much heavier. I’d say at least five stone, but with the death of my mother, followed by my wife and son shortly thereafter, I had a difficult time accepting their loss. ”
Her face softened slightly. “I imagine that would be hard.”
“I don’t deserve your pity,” he returned in a hard tone. “I have done things that I’m not proud of. I suppose making me suffer such traumatic events was fate’s way of reminding me of my faults.”
“That’s a bit harsh,” she countered. “Everyone makes mistakes.”
“Would you have your stepsister committed to an asylum because you wanted to control her father’s money so you could finance a gambling and drinking habit?”
Her mouth fell open slightly, but she recovered and crossed her arms over her chest. “I don’t think I would.”
His lips twisted in a smirk. “My point exactly.”
There was a brief pause. “Is she still committed?”
“No. She lives a contented life with her husband far away from me. At least she was spared. But it appears I am still suffering from the consequences of my actions.”
“That doesn’t mean you deserved such terrible heartache,” she whispered.
He glanced at her and saw that there was no ridicule in her tone, nor was her face full of condemnation.
She was speaking in sincerity. “But perhaps if the fates had anything to do with it, then it was to guide you to be a better person.” She hesitated. “Are you?”
He squared his shoulders. “I’m attempting to be.” His gaze caught hers. “I’m here with you, aren’t I?”
Time suspended as they tried to decipher one another. They had found a common ground, but there was still so much that was different, yet to be explored, that Benjamin knew it would take patience, and effort, to explore it all.
He settled his head back against the squabs and said, “You should try to get some rest. We still have a bit of a way to travel before we reach my estate.”
“I can hardly wait,” she drawled, and he found the corners of his mouth turning upward against all odds. This might be an enjoyable marriage, after all.
There was no way that Catherine could possibly sleep. Her mind was spinning with what she’d gained thus far from the man sitting on the opposing side of the carriage.
Her husband.
She still couldn’t quite believe that she’d gone through with it.
She had imagined her body collapsing from the strain of wedding a complete stranger, one who had been hand-selected for her by someone she had only met one time.
It still made her angry every time she thought of the Black Widow and she vowed she would find a way to retaliate against the injustice of her circumstances.
And yet…
She tilted her head and tried to imagine the baron with some extra weight on him.
She wouldn’t be against it, although she admired the way he looked now.
He was trim, with a strong physique, but not overly so, like the men who worked on board a ship.
She found that they were entirely too large for her tastes.
With his dark eyes and hair, he wasn’t the sort to stand out in a crowd or demand attention. He didn’t tower over any of his peers, his height as average as any other gentleman in society.
But in spite of all of his unassuming qualities, she decided that there was something that marked him different from others.
Perhaps it was his demeanor, the fact that he didn’t care to be accepted.
Or maybe the smirk on his face that bespoke of those misdeeds he’d mentioned, the dark personality of his past still lurking beneath the surface.
Whatever it was, Catherine was finding the baron to be a bit more appealing than he had been at first glance, although there had been a spark of…
something when she’d first turned and beheld him in the middle of her parents’ parlor that morning.
She couldn’t say if that moment had been interest or something else.
It was entirely too soon to tell if they would get along at all, but thus far, they had made a good start.
Until it came to the intimacy aspect of their union.
He was correct that they needed to consummate their marriage so there was no question of the validity of their union, but the prospect of lying with him made her uneasy.
Not because of maidenly apprehension, obviously.
Or because she had already given her heart to David.
It was something much more alarming. She was afraid she might actually find herself enjoying the act and proving her husband correct, that she’d never truly experienced real pleasure before.
It wasn’t as though she were against doing so, but she feared she would find herself in the precarious position of falling in love with her husband if she fell prey to his prowess in the bedchamber.
Thus, her happiness would prove that Mrs. Dove-Lyon was the matchmaking goddess whom everyone believed her to be.
That was not an idea that settled well at all. While she should do her best to engage in a harmonious marriage, she did not want to admit that the Black Widow was right and she had chosen well. Her pride would not allow it.
As the carriage slowed and passed between two columns and began to head up a narrow drive, she craned her neck, eager to gain the first glimpse of her new home and dreading the monstrosity to which she would undoubtedly be subjected upon their arrival.
The baron had mentioned that it was in a sad state of disrepair and that most of the funds he’d gained from her dowry would go to fix the damage through the years, so she was expecting a caving roof and an overgrown garden that looked like something could easily swallow her up and drag her to the underworld to live with Hades for all eternity.
Instead, when they rounded a bend in the road, she had to gasp at the lovely sight that presented itself.
Bright, whitewashed limestone sprawled out before her like an inviting canvas that had come to life. The diamond-paned glass windows sparkled with brilliance and the massive oak door of the entrance enticed her to walk through and explore the labyrinth beyond.
“I know it’s not much to look at now—”
Catherine turned her head to stare at the baron. who was watching her intently. “It’s miraculous!” she interrupted breathlessly. “You led me to believe it was falling down around your ears.”
He clenched his jaw. “You haven’t seen the inside yet.”
Catherine couldn’t imagine it being anything less than just as spectacular as the exterior.
She noticed that there were ivy vines climbing up one side, but it just added to the overall character of the manor.
It certainly didn’t make her want to run screaming in the opposite direction, or lament that this lovely place would be her new home.
She hesitated. Home. It truly struck her that she would no longer be living under her father’s heavy thumb any longer.
She glanced at the baron, but something told her he wasn’t cut from the same cloth as that of the Duke of Lancaster.
Thus far, he had acted with all the composure of a gentleman, regardless if he claimed the contrary.
The oak door opened when the carriage came to a halt and a sour-faced man in black-and-silver livery came outside to stand on the front steps.
Following him was a woman with a jangle of keys at her waist, as well as a tidy bun and an expression that was more curious than severe for most housekeepers.
A few other staff followed, footmen and maids, and as they all lined up to greet the master of the house, they looked at her with open interest, but also the respect that was due her elevated station.
“Lord Fontaine. It is good to have you back in residence,” the butler announced.
“Thank you, Bartholomew.” Benjamin waved a hand to indicate Catherine. “This is my wife, Catherine Fontaine, daughter of the Duke of Lancaster, the new Baroness Fontaine. She is to be afforded every courtesy.”
“Of course, my lord.” The butler bowed to her and Catherine inclined her head.