The Sherbrooke Series Novels 1-5 (55 page)

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 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 men. I will please you, I will make you forget them.”

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.”

She wanted to mend the gown now, truth be told. The night stretched out before her in a terrifying long number of minutes. But even Sophie knew from the look on Ryder’s face that she’d pushed him far enough. She saw her uncle’s face in its stead, the fury darkening his eyes when she’d pushed him. She remembered the pain of his fists, the rippling of her flesh when they struck. She was soon standing only in her chemise and stockings.

“You didn’t wear slippers at your own wedding,” he said, bemused. “I had thought you were taller. Let’s get those stockings off, I want to look at your feet.”

She sat on the edge of the bed wearing only her white muslin chemise, Ryder on his haunches in front of her, completely oblivious of the fact he didn’t have any clothes on.

“Your feet are healing nicely,” he said. “There are only a couple of cuts that still look tender. On board ship, don’t wear slippers unless you have to and be careful of the decks, you could get splinters. Now let me look at your ribs.”

He took her hand and drew her upright. He bent down to take the hem of her chemise in his hands. He stopped cold. He wanted to howl and laugh at the same time at the damnable irony. It was his wedding night and he’d been done in.

There was blood on her chemise.

“You don’t feel well, Sophie?”

“Not very well. I’m not lying to you, Ryder. My stomach is cramping a bit.”

“No wonder,” he said and sighed very deeply. “I’m sorry if this disappoints you, but you’re not pregnant.”

She gasped as she looked down at herself. She turned white.

“No need to be embarrassed. Have you cloths?”

She shook her head.

“All right. I’ll send Coco to you. Would you like some laudanum? Is the cramping bad?”

“No. Yes.”

Fifteen minutes later Ryder stood beside the bed, wearing a dressing gown, looking down at his wife’s pale face. Despite the heat she’d pulled the sheet up to her nose. He’d forced the laudanum down her throat, saying in a very irritated voice, “I swear not to ravish you whilst you’re unconscious.” To which she’d replied in an equally irritated voice, “Why not? You did before.”

That had stopped him cold. He looked down at her now. “So much for the vaunted Sherbrooke luck,” he said more to himself than to her, and lifted the sheet. He eased in beside her. “No, Sophie, don’t have a fit and don’t squirm around so much, you might fall on the floor. I won’t force you to have me tonight. Hush now. The laudanum should be taking effect soon. That’s right, just close your eyes and breathe deeply. Would you like me to rub your belly?”

He didn’t expect an answer and he didn’t get one. A short time later he heard her breathing evenly into sleep.

He took her hand in his.

 

 

The sky was beginning to lighten into morning. Ryder stood on deck of the
Harbinger
beside Sophie. “Don’t forget to give my brother the letter,” he said for the third time. “And don’t worry. He will take good care of you and Jeremy. My mother could be a bit of a problem, but she’s unaccountable. If she chooses not to be charming to you, simply ignore her, all right? You’ll have quite an ally in Alex, I doubt not. Have you put the money I gave you in a safe place?”

“Yes, Ryder.”

“Does your belly feel all right this morning?”

“Yes.”

“You promise to hire two guards at Southampton?”

“Yes.”

He frowned at her. “You think I’m treating you like a child, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Look, Sophie, I’ve never had a wife before, never really had any responsibilities of this sort before except of course for the chil—” He broke that off and shook his head at himself. He couldn’t seem to keep his tongue quiet in his mouth around her. He would tell her about the children, but in his own time, in his own way. She was looking at him, an eyebrow lifted in silent question, but he merely shook his head, and continued. “In any case, you and Jeremy are mine now and I want to make certain you will be all right.”

“We will be fine. Don’t worry. Are you sure your family won’t toss us out on our ears?”

“I won’t lie to you. They will be very surprised. I hadn’t planned to marry, at least for a very long time. I would appreciate it, Sophie, if you would try to make my family believe you are at least a bit fond of me, that you don’t look upon me as a ravening beast.”

Captain Mallory appeared at Ryder’s elbow. There was a wide grin on his broad, ugly face. “ ’Tis time for you to remove yourself, Mr. Sherbrooke. Your bride will be fine. Give her another hug and a kiss and get off my ship.”

He smiled down at Sophie. “Can I have a kiss?”

She raised her face, her lips pursed. He lightly touched his fingertip to her lips, pressing slightly, then he kissed her very gently, with very little pressure. He felt a shudder in her but didn’t know if it was from fear, nervousness, or wonderful lust. Somehow he doubted the latter.

“You will be careful,” he said yet again, patted her cheek, walked over to Jeremy, hugged the boy tightly, ruffled his hair, and said, “Keep her spirits up, Jeremy. I’ll return to England as soon as all this nonsense is taken care of. Be a good boy. Another thing. I’m quite fond of you so you will be careful of yourself as well.”

He strode down the gangplank. He watched it hauled onto the ship’s deck. He watched the sun rise full in the sky now and stood very still listening to Captain Mallory shouting his orders. He waved a final time to his bride and his new brother-in-law.

He continued to wait on the dock until the ship was gone from view. He turned then, smiling. She was safe now, completely safe. He whistled as he mounted his horse to return to Kimberly Hall.

At one o’clock that afternoon Sherman Cole arrived. Ryder smiled as he watched the man dismount and walk toward the veranda where he sat, a glass of lemonade in his hand. Samuel and Emile came out of the house and Ryder felt the relief radiating from them.

“What an unexpected surprise,” Ryder said, and yawned deeply. He didn’t rise. “Have you come to bring more discord, make more threats?”

“Damn you to hell, Sherbrooke!”

Ryder’s eyebrow went up. “I beg your pardon? I truly didn’t strike you that hard, though you deserved it.”

“I was certain you’d lied, I would have wagered all I possessed that you had lied, damn you. And you did, of course, to protect that little slut.”

“Where are all your bully boys?” Emile asked quickly before Ryder could rise from his chair and flatten Sherman Cole again.

“They’re looking for Thomas.”

“I wager you’ll have to pay him quite a bit of money once you catch up to him. He probably won’t trust you. You’ll have to convince him that you want him to help you hang Miss Stanton-Greville.”

“Pay him! Ha, I will hang the bastard! He lied to me, he made a fool of me.”

Now this was the wrong play, Ryder thought, blank-brained. This is a comedy, not a tragedy.

“What do you mean?” Samuel asked.

“Burgess wasn’t shot, nor was he stabbed, as Sherbrooke here said. He was garroted. Dammit, she couldn’t have killed him, she doesn’t have the strength.”

He turned away, stomped to his horse, mounted, and rode away, never once looking back.

Ryder didn’t move. “Dear God,” he said at last, “I didn’t have to marry her. I didn’t have to ship her and Jeremy back to England. To be only twenty-five years old and be done in by irony.”

“It’s better done,” Samuel said. “One never knows what Cole will do next.”

But Ryder was immersed in contemplation of his fate. Well, perhaps it wouldn’t be such a bad fate. One would have to see about that. He sighed and rose. He shook his head and said, “Garroted, the bastard was garroted.”

He shook his head again. “I’ll be damned,” he said, and walked to the stables.

 

SOPHIE AND JEREMY stood side by side on deck, the fog-laden wind blowing into their faces, tightly holding the wooden railing because the water was choppy, the waves splashing high and rocking even the solid barkentine with their force. Jeremy was nearly squealing with excitement because he’d been the first to see the English shoreline through the thick fog bank. Gravesend, he’d shouted. As for Sophie, she wanted to shout hallelujahs as the English coast neared. She felt equal parts of anticipation and belly-deep fear as she watched the billowing fog bank just off port. Nearly home, but not really hers and Jeremy’s home in Fowey, but Ryder’s home—Northcliffe Hall.