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He wondered briefly if he should tell her that she was still a virgin, and that he'd told her a mag­nificent lie to prevent her from marrying Samuel Grayson. Even as a silent thought, it didn't sound all that promising as a way to bring her around. It made him sound like a bastard, truth be told. No, no, he'd keep it to himself. He had all the time in the world to tell her whatever he wanted to tell her. The truth could wait a bit longer.

He took her in his arms. He didn't kiss her, just said as he looked down at her, "I know you have seen some of what men and women do together in bed. I know from firsthand experience that you know how to seduce a man, how to tease him until he's hard as a stone and willing to say anything, promise anything, to you. However, I know you've never experienced any of it, even with me, because of the odd circumstances. We are going very slowly, Sophie. I don't want you to hark back to the repug­nant experiences you've had. They're not important now. Only you and I are important. Do you under­stand me?"

"I don't want this, Ryder. I need time."

"You will have all the time you wish after tonight, at least seven weeks of it. I'm not like those other pawing cretins. I will please you, I will make you forget all their annoying habits."

His hands were on her back, lightly stroking up and down, slowly, soothing, as if she were a child, as if she were a wary animal to be tamed. She saw Lord David, felt his hands on her, his mouth on hers. And Oliver Susson and Charles Grammond, and Dickey Mason, another man her uncle had ruined with her help. There were two others, one of them now dead, the other a drunkard who'd left Jamaica in disgrace. Dear God, it was too much. She hated it. She hated herself and she hated him for forcing her into this marriage. She pulled away from him suddenly, tak­ing him by surprise, and he let her go.

She walked quickly to the balcony, not turning to face him until she was to the railing.

When she turned back, he was where she'd left him, standing in the middle of the room, only now he was taking off his coat. She froze, watching him. Next came his cravat. Then he was unfastening his shirt and vest. Then he sat down on a wicker chair and pulled off his boots. When he rose again, his hands on the buttons of his britches, she yelled, "No! What are you doing? Stop it!"

"Why?" he said. "I can't offend your maiden's sen­sibilities. Good God, woman, you've seen me naked. Not only have you seen me naked, you've seen my sex swelled. You've seen my eyes glazed with lust. There's nothing new for you. Didn't you see all the other men as well?"

She stared at him, unmoving. He was soon naked, and as he had been before, his sex was swelled, but he made no move toward her. Instead, he held out his hand. "Come here, Sophie. It's time we began our married life together."

"I don't feel well," she said.

"Very well," he said more to himself than to her, and walked toward her.

Her wedding gown defeated her. She tried to duck around him but the skirts tangled between her legs and she couldn't move quickly enough. She tripped on the lace hem and felt the material rip beneath her left arm. She hadn't meant to hurt the gown. It was so beautiful, she hadn't meant it. Ryder's impatient voice brought her back to another misery.

"No more fighting me, Sophie. It's done. You're my wife. No more, do you hear me? We've only tonight and I want to consummate this damned marriage."

"Let me go."

"Not on your life. I'm going to undress you, Sophie. You will not fight me. You took a vow to obey me and it's time you took that vow seriously."

She raised her head and looked at him straightly. "From my uncle's domination to yours. I want to be free, don't you understand? A man is born with the taste of freedom in his mouth, but the chances that a woman can ever gain freedom are remote. It's just as I knew it would be. You're no different from the others. All of you are animals, selfish and brutal."

"I'm quite different from the others. I'm your hus­band until the day I stick my spoon in the wall."

She was standing stiff as a pole, watching him.

He had, suddenly, the most awful presentiment that she would never come to want him. No, that was absurd. He wouldn't allow it.

He sighed. "All right. Sit down. Let's talk for a little while."

She sat and he saw the relief flood her face, damn her. "Now, do you have more proclamations of men's dishonesty and general brutishness?"

She didn't look at him. She said at last, "I suppose it is stupid of me. You already took me and looked your fill at me and I suppose you didn't hurt me because the next morning I felt nothing. But you see, I didn't know you were looking at me, I didn't know anything." She raised her head and looked at him straightly. "It is difficult, Ryder."

"I'll make it easier. All you have to do is trust me. Now, about your freedom. I shan't lock you up, Sophie, if you believe that's what men do to their wives. For the most part I imagine you will do pre­cisely as you please. If by freedom you mean you can't sail to the ends of the earth by yourself, that's quite true and the reasons are obvious. You are a woman and thus weaker than a man. You could be hurt. But in the future who knows? Perhaps we will visit faraway places together."

It wasn't at all what she'd meant by freedom but it didn't matter now. It was moot.

"I won't ever hurt you, Sophie, or beat you or threaten you. I think men who do are utter bas­tards. Your uncle was a conscienceless villain. He wasn't normal; he was twisted. I'm not like that. None of my friends are like that. I will never hurt you."

"I have no reason to believe you."

'You have no reason to disbelieve me." Ryder rose and offered her his hand. "Come inside. It's time to go to bed. I'll help you with the gown."

No choice, she thought. No more choices at all. She went with him. Soon her gown was open on her back and he was gently easing it down. He dropped a light kiss on her shoulder and felt her flinch.

"Take the gown off now. I assume you will want to keep it since it's your wedding gown. Doubtless you can repair that rip. It doesn't look too bad to me. Do you have space in your valise for it?"

'Yes."


Tags: Catherine Coulter Sherbrooke Brides Historical