AllFreeNovel
Share Us
He went slowly, giving her time to get used to things. When he put his hands on her breasts she was shy, but he was so lavish in his praise and his touch that she became braver, letting him strip the chemise over her head so that she lay there in her lacy drawers and nothing else.
The drawers were a little harder to talk her out of, but she knew they had to go, and he managed to slip them off while he was kissing her breasts, so that she didn’t even notice until they were gone.
But then she made him take off his clothes, and he was certain he’d frighten the wits out of her, but she’d taken one long, assessing look at him and then held out her arms, and he was helpless to resist.
He made it as easy for her as he could. He kissed her and stroked her and gave her ripples of pleasure with his clever hands, he used his mouth on her to make certain she was slick enough to make it easy, and he went slowly, but he knew that sooner or later he was going to have to hurt her, and when he did, finally thrusting in deep, breaking through her maidenhead and giving her all of him, he held her, waiting for her tears and anger.
“Is that all there is?” she whispered.
“Now, lass, I’m considered fairly well-sized …”
“No, I mean is that all the pain?”
He looked down into her lovely, thoughtful face. The face that foolish girl didn’t think was beautiful. “I expect so. ”
“Oh,” she said, and a small smile curved her lips. “That wasn’t bad at all. Go ahead and do your worst. ”
“My worst?”
“That’s what you warned me, Jacob,” she said, looking up at him lovingly, using his name for the very first time.
He kissed her, hard. “I’ll give you my very best, lass. ”
And he did.
Miranda would have hoped she’d sleep during those endless hours back to Pawlfrey House, but her body betrayed her. Despite the wine she’d drunk she was wide-awake, alert, and in a torment of anger, confusion, relief and hope. She kept her mind a deliberate blank, concentrating on the gentle rocking of the carriage, the sounds of the night birds, the smell of the air, the strong sure sense of the man sitting across from her in the dark. As she’d first met him, unseeable in a darkened carriage, spinning his webs of intrigue and revenge. He was no scorpion; he was a spider, with a slow web and no instantaneous sting. And she was caught, struggling, fighting, refusing to give in.
It was just before dawn when they finally arrived back at Pawlfrey House, and the huge old building looked cold and deserted. Lucien stepped down from the carriage, then held up a hand to assist her, a hand she blatantly ignored as she climbed down on her own, doing her best to hide the weakness in her legs. The front door had opened, and one of the new footmen stood there, sleepy-eyed and surprised, ready to assist his lord and lady.
“I’ll leave you here, madam,” Lucien said formally, not making the mistake of trying to touch her again. “I’m going for a ride. ”
She didn’t signify that she heard him, or that his words made the slightest bit of difference as she sailed past him, into the house. With luck he’d fall and break his bloody neck, or simply never return. She could be quite happy alone in this house, as long as she could get rid of Mrs. Humber.
There was even a remote chance that she might be carrying his child. Some women conceived the moment a man looked at them, others waited years with nothing but empty wombs. She wasn’t sure which she wanted, and she wasn’t going to waste her time thinking about it. All she wanted was to get this poisonous gown off her and find her own bed.
Bridget must have been warned of their abrupt return, for she was waiting in the room, fully dressed. She took one look at Miranda’s outfit when she stripped off the black domino and then immediately closed her mouth.
“Get this off me,” Miranda said in a tight voice, already yanking at the golden ties that threaded around her waist.
Bridget immediately began to work at it, but her hands weren’t deft enough or swift enough, and Miranda’s unnatural calm finally broke. “Get it off me,” she said again, her voice rising into hysteria as she tore at it, desperate, making the knots even worse. “I can’t stand it. I don’t care what you do, cut it, tear it …”
Bridget did just that, slicing through the gold leather cord that bound it so that it pooled on the floor around her, and Miranda began to cry, deep, ugly sobs that racked her body as Bridget pulled her into her strong arms and comforted her as if she were a young child.
“There, there, my lady. Don’t weep so. He brought you back, didn’t he? I knew he couldn’t go through with it. Mrs. Humber said you wouldn’t even be returning, but I knew different, and I kept up here, waiting for you, and now here you are. ” She held Miranda’s shivering, naked form against her comfortable bosom. “The master’s no so bad as he says he is, and if you ask me he cares for you, whether he likes it or not. ”
“I didn’t ask you,” Miranda said in a small, miserable voice as Bridget pulled a fresh white chemise over her head. “I don’t care what he likes or doesn’t like, I don’t care about anything. ”
“Of course you don’t, mistress,” Bridget said in her soothing voice. “Let me get a nightgown for you and you can get some sleep …”
Miranda shook her head. “This is fine for now,” she said in a watery voice. “I just want to sleep. ”
“Yes, mistress. ” Bridget helped her between the snowy-white sheets. Everything was clean and white and safe. The hands that had touched her might as well have never existed, and Lucien had run away. She would survive.
The cool linen covered her, and she lay back, closing her eyes. Closing out everything but the sleep that finally, mercifully claimed her.
27
Lucien rode hard and fast in the early morning light, pushing himself and his horse beyond reason. He’d gone mad, stark, staring mad, and he ought to be hauled off to Bedlam with the other lunatics. What the hell had he done? The perfect revenge had been just within his grasp,
