Chapter 3 #2
What benefit had he ever got out of their marriage? She had got his name, his title, his fortune. Her family had got whatever generous settlements the Old Devil had wheedled out of him. But what had Corey got, except an ill-trained wife who answered him back, and whom he did not even like?
“Why did you marry me?” she blurted. There was a distinct pause. Even in the darkness, she felt his gaze burning into her face. Appalled at her own question, she shook her head, “You need not—”
“Don’t you know?” he interrupted.
“I thought I did. After all, there seems nothing else for you to gain out of the match.”
“Gain?” he repeated with distaste. “Is that what you think of me?”
“Of course, a man in your position must marry,” she allowed.
“My best guess is that you were getting it over with, while shutting the door on the annoying matchmaking mamas, which allows you to live much more as you please. Or at least, you thought it would.” She turned to meet his gaze at last. “I am not the wife you wanted, am I?”
“You are the only wife I wanted.”
“How polite you are,” she mocked.
Abruptly she was swung around against a hedge, both his arms hard around her. His eyes blazed down at her, frightening and yet somehow exciting.
“Polite?” he said savagely, and kissed her.
Her heart soared. Her stomach dived. For he had not kissed her like this since that first morning, and even then…
She could only yield, melt, opening wide to his demanding mouth, which quickly gentled into something much more sensual and tender.
Desire flamed to the caress of his body, to his growing arousal pressed so excitingly against her that a small, inarticulate moan escaped her.
He let her go as suddenly as he had seized her. Her hands, clinging to his neck, to his faintly stubbled cheek, fell to her sides.
“I beg your pardon,” he said hoarsely. “I regret I am not the husband you wanted.”
This floored her so completely that she could only stare after him as he strode back up the path. What on earth did he mean? Her mouth opened but no words came out, and in any case, he was getting away from her again.
She sped after him to the lit French doors he was aiming for. As she caught up with him, she grasped his arm and was whisked inside to a blaze of light and noise, a room where several people were playing cards, and the air already smelled of brandy.
“Corey!” someone called. “Will you and your lady join us?”
“My lady is tired after our journey,” Corey said.
Her hackles rose that he should speak for her without consultation, but in truth she did not want to play cards. She wanted to be alone with her husband, who conducted her through the room to the grand hall and the staircase.
Her heart beat like a drum. What did he intend? She should give him no choice. He had made the first move. At the very least, he still wanted her. This was where, she should turn into his arms, wrap her own around him and kiss him back, seduce him into her bed, tell him she had always loved him…
And then, like a blast of cold water on her burning body, she remembered the rubies.
If he found out she had been so careless as to lose them—to Nicholas of all people!— he would not believe in her apparently sudden change of heart. He would think she was cozening him for her own or her family’s benefit, and they had already squeezed so much out of him.
“I regret I am not the husband you wanted.” What on earth had he meant by that?
She had had no other suitors. Unsurprising.
No one wanted to marry a Raymond. Her sister Caroline’s revolting husband had won her in a card game with the Old Devil.
Avoiding such a catastrophe was yet another reason to be grateful to Corey…
Somehow, they had reached the passage to their rooms in total silence. Panic surged. What should she do?
Her heart threatened to jump out of her breast as he opened her door, led her inside, and closed it with a portentous click.
Slowly, he turned to face her. “I am not a complacent husband, Gabriella. Never think it. You are mine.”
I have always been yours. The words stuck in her throat, blocked not now by pride but by the damned rubies.
But she was not blind to the invitation in his stormy, clouded eyes as they devoured her face.
She longed to take that half-step that would bring her up against him, to lift her face and kiss the beloved lips that could give such pleasure…
Damn my stupidity, damn Nicholas.
She swallowed. “I am yours,” she said hoarsely, and a flame seemed to ignite in those eyes that could be hard as slate or liquid with passion. “But you must give me time. We have become strangers again.”
He leaned closer, his breath tickling her cheek, her ear. “I can make you forget him.”
“Who?” she whispered, a thousand tiny thrills skittering along her veins.
His lips twitched. “You see?”
In spite of everything, laughter caught at her breath. Surely one brush of her lips on his was permissible…
He turned the handle of the door and was gone.
* * *
Despite the turbulent emotions of the evening, Corey was not displeased as he left his wife and returned to the card room.
He was sure she had slipped Livesey-White something, and yet she had been in no hurry to be rid of her husband.
Perhaps she was giving the wretched Snowy his congé.
After all, Corey had reason to know there had been no physical contact between them since she had been immured at Sanford Park.
If she had received any messages from him, they must have been extremely discreet.
And tonight, although he had not meant to kiss her so quickly or so roughly, she had not appeared to mind.
She had definitely kissed him back. The magic of their wedding night had not left her either. Surely that had been real?
Yes, they had finally begun something today, something they should have done weeks ago—spent time together. What had he been thinking of, sulking like a schoolgirl in distant parts of the house, neglecting her, blaming her?
She was nineteen years old, and despite the ramshackle nature of her father’s household, she had been an innocent given to a stranger. Throughout the brief fortnight of their betrothal and even their wedding night, he had tried to address that, courting her like any honorable gentleman.
In three years, the wild, delightful child who had once dropped into his arms from an apple tree on her father’s estate, had grown into a madly intriguing young woman of beauty and passion and breathtaking zest for life.
Why had he never considered that other men might have been bowled over before him?
That she might already have given her heart to another?
The raging hurt he had felt when he had seen her secretly accept Livesey-White’s gift was a testament to his own feelings. And there had been pity for her situation amongst the pride that caused him to stay away from her subsequently. But that was no excuse.
He had behaved badly, stupidly. When he should have been erasing his rival from her mind and heart and earning her love himself, he had neglected her. She had only taken her cooly sardonic attitude from his lead and, he now suspected, from her own hurt.
Corey who, despite his youth, had already made his name as the great diplomat of Parliament, with his perceptive negotiations and solutions, had forgotten in his own marriage the one thing necessary to any understanding—talk.
And so, he played a few somewhat mechanical games of cards. Livesey-White avoided him by retiring early.
Only then did he retire himself.
He wondered if Gabriella were awake, thinking of him. She had been willing to entertain him earlier, despite her somewhat missish request for time. But this time he wanted her whole heart. Even so, the temptation had been profound. And urgent. It was still urgent.
He hesitated for several moments beside the connecting door to her sitting room. He even reached for the handle, imagining her welcome, her naked passion…
Or her squeak of protest.
Or, worse, her indifferent submission.
He dropped his hand to his side. She was right. They did need time. Blind lust—or even blind love—was no use to them now. They needed understanding and trust. And that had to be earned.