Chapter Two
The carriage bumped noisily down the road.
Cate hung on to the interior of the carriage upholstery, trying her best not to catch her new husband’s eye.
She understood the need for the driver’s punishing pace.
Since it was nearly winter, it was best that they reach their destination before night fell at five o’clock.
Nonetheless, it did make her feel as if the dogs of hell were chasing them out of Weybridge.
Perhaps it was merely to accentuate her father’s distaste for her.
His spite and disappointment would continue no matter what she did or where she went.
“I told the man we wished to make it to Salisbury’s before nightfall,” said Lieutenant Perrin.
In the last few days, there had been a great deal of change. The next few were likely to bring more.
“Is that where we will have our honeymoon?” she asked.
Her sisters had been married to men of consequence, with grand titles and estates to go to, whereas Lieutenant Perrin came from a small village in the wilds of Yorkshire.
Keighley, she thought he had said. None of his family had even been at the wedding.
Not that she blamed them for that. If they knew about her, they would probably loathe her.
The mild light of the morning streamed through the carriage curtains as the driver eased his pace and Cate settled back into her seat.
The outside world gave no huge indication that it was nearly December.
Inside the carriage, she was snug inside a thick wrapper.
A warm brick had been placed by her feet.
There had been a hundred things she wished to know about her husband, but an awkwardness struck her as she slowly studied him surreptitiously.
He had been an acquaintance before their marriage.
A working man. One of her father’s fellow lords’ employees.
John Perrin was a man of the navy. It marked him out as different from most of her milieu. Frankly, that was not a bad thing.
Today, on their wedding day, he was dressed in the finest officer’s uniform, which made him rather handsome in Cate’s eyes.
With his gorget, epaulets, rich blue coat, and the black hat discarded next to him on the seat, he was an intriguing sight.
One which spoke of brute masculinity, a warm Yorkshire accent, and muscles.
Yet what a contrast to his decidedly sweet treatment of her.
What, Cate wondered, lay beneath the shield of his uniform and rank?
And how precisely should she phrase that question?
“No,” he replied, “We’re headed for the seaside. I hope that is agreeable to you.”
Cate nodded. She had had no say in any of the wedding preparations, forced into her sister’s gown and into the place of her father’s choosing. So it struck her as no surprise she should not have chosen the honeymoon destination. Still, she liked the sea.
“I thought it was a pleasing ceremony,” John remarked.
There was a slight but encouraging smile playing around his lips, which illuminated his face and warmed his grey-green eyes.
Cate would have liked to sink her fingers into his curly hair.
The pale brown color matched his eyebrows, which sat on his rugged face.
His lips were a sin that Cate tried her best to ignore.
The bottom one in particular was a glorious, rounded temptation she longed to nibble.
“Indeed,” Cate lied. The ceremony had been cobbled together to protect her good name, with only a handful of witnesses and a vicar.
The special license had been bought hastily.
The only thing that had been remotely pleasing was their brief kiss.
It made sense that he had not pushed the kiss further, and yet part of Cate longed for him to kiss her again.
The initial contact had been glorious, and she wished he could have continued.
“Thank you.” It was true she had thanked him for saving her good name more than a dozen times until he grew sick of it. But it was not merely to save her from the scandal, but also from her father.
“You have no need to say that,” he replied. “After all, most men would. I too think of you as a catch.”
The compliment hung in the air, awkward and yet another half-truth.
After all, she wasn’t a catch anymore. She was a disgrace.
Another uncomfortable idea bubbled through her.
Perrin might have married her for her connections and dowry.
She doubted her father had cut her off entirely.
Was that the only reason Perrin was being so pleasant to her?
“What is the name of the seaside place we are going to?” she asked, unable to discuss the nature of the scandal at midday.
“Lyme Regis,” John answered, easing apart his jacket as he settled into his seat.
Cate was captivated by the movement, and she lingered on the soft white shirt beneath, imagining the muscles it must hide. Suddenly her throat grew dry. “I-I-I’m afraid I don’t know the area.”
“It’s on the Dorset coastline.” John leaned forward as his Yorkshire accent became more pronounced in his words. “I suspect it will be a little quieter than Bath or Brighton but—”
“That sounds perfect.” Cate met his eyes affectionately. This man seemed to understand that being away from the crowd was the best course of action.
“I’ve found us a pleasing hotel in Lyme Regis. It is called The Dower Royal.”
The mention of a hotel heated Cate’s cheeks. Their wedding night. Cate had been preparing herself for the inevitable discussion, but as a gently-reared lady, she couldn’t find the words.
Clearly sensing her unease, John leaned closer to the window and said, “I believe that is Guildford in the distance. Is it not?”
During the rest of the trip to Salisbury, John engaged her in easy, light questions focused on the geography through which they passed.
Cate was careful not to reveal too much of herself, but from his generosity in how he spoke and questioned her, she quickly found that her initial impression of John’s kindness was not an error.
*
Salisbury was a city that Cate was familiar with, having journeyed through there as a stopping post between Weybridge and Bath countless times.
So when the carriage pulled into Charter House Inne, Cate knew what to expect.
The innkeeper recognized her and suggested a private chamber as theirs for a meal, one that her family had used often, with its plush crimson rugs, and thick oak furniture, creating an intimate and almost festive atmosphere.
The innkeeper, Mr. Anusvara, came to congratulate the pair on their recent wedding.
After every servant had departed, they finished the delightful evening meal of potted rabbit stew and creamed fig. Then Cate realized how different everything actually was. She was not with her family, but with her husband.
Seemingly able to read her mind, John began, “I requested separate chambers, which I hope—”
“No,” Cate cut in, surprising even herself with the strength of her response. She followed him until they were only a foot apart. “That is, I would not wish to create a scene or be seen as…failing to be a wife…”
“I do not care what others say,” John insisted. Then he reached for her. Cate hoped he might finally kiss her again, but he only took her hand and pressed his lips to her knuckles. His breath lingered over her palm. Cate thought she might cry.
“Goodnight, wife,” he said, leaving her alone in the private chamber. She wished she were brave enough to follow him or to call him back to her side.
*
John’s plan continued when they reached Lyme Regis.
But on arriving at the Dower Royal Hotel, Cate was greatly surprised and delighted to see that the hoteliers had made a mistake with the booking.
Finally, John and she would have no choice but to share a bedchamber.
She grew so tense with desire that she hardly paid attention to the pretty little seaside resort town of Lyme Regis on their first walk around it.
Briefly, she noticed the elegance of the situation and concluded it was a pleasant location for a honeymoon.
Awkwardly, the pair stood in front of the one bed in the guest suite at the Dower Royal Hotel.
As they prepared for their second night together, she listened to his breathing. He stood only a foot away from her.
“I will step out.” John turned away to give her some privacy and time to clear her head. Yet Cate didn’t want to walk on eggshells around him for the rest of their marriage. She wouldn’t let fear dominate her future as it had her childhood.
“Please stay,” she whispered.
John’s eyes widened as he turned back to her.
His shy, tentative smile twisted her stomach.
His hands shook as he hesitantly cupped her face, fingering her hair and loosening her chignon.
His touch was rougher than she expected, yet he handled her as if she were fragile.
What mattered was how safe he made her feel.
“It is not for a lack of desire,” he said huskily. His voice lit a spark within Cate. It was so different from what she had experienced when other men had kissed her, even the infamous rake Mr. Hepworth.
“I am not tainted goods,” she cried. That was the term her very father used.
John frowned. “I would never call a woman that. And certainly never you. There is no action you might take that would damage you.”
He was still cradling her head. Their mouths were only a few inches apart. Their eyes locked. It was then that Cate closed the gap. She was done wondering what her husband’s mouth would taste like. She was done with the formalities of marriage. She wanted something real.
Suddenly, she pressed her lips upon his.
That bottom lip was even better than she’d imagined.
John smiled. He tightened his grip on her hair, keeping her prisoner as he deepened their kiss.
When he eased her mouth open, John slipped his tongue inside.
He leisurely explored her mouth before lightly licking her lips.
It’s wonderful, Cate thought blissfully. They inelegantly staggered back onto the bed, still locked together.
She giggled when they landed on the soft mattress. Her husband, thick and toned, tall and strong, pressed her down into the tangle of bedding.
Tilting her head back, Cate wrapped her arms around his neck, urging him onwards.
Never had such a kiss consumed her. It lit her skin on fire, burning her innards and exciting her mind. Never had she wanted the inevitable consequences of a kiss more.
“God, I want to.” His voice was thick with desire. How she longed to tell him he could. She hoped her wandering hands and featherlike kisses told him everything. He kissed her deeply but pulled away from her. “We must wait, Cate.”