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But it was that spot.
The memory flashed through her, tearing her away from the beautiful sensations like a slap. Inexplicable terror flooded her. The shame, the embarrassment of that day pushed away the warmth, the desire, making her want to curl into a ball.
Her eyes flew open, and she pushed Nathaniel as hard as she could, backing away from him.
He staggered, almost falling onto the bed, his eyes wide and confused, his mouth open. “Calliope?” he asked, blinking.
She clutched at her neck in a mindless gesture of protection. “I can’t.”
He took a step towards her, and she took one back. “Did I do something?”
Her mind raced. This was their wedding night. He had every right to bed her. How could she explain this sudden rejection?
A boy pinched me and called me a whore when he saw me pleasuring myself while reading a book.
How could she ever tell him that? Or anyone at all? Not a soul knew except for her, William, and Spencer.
Spencer…right. She could mention Spencer!
“I will not let you bed me,” she said, panting hard, “until we make progress with my brother. You promised to find Officer Bartholomew, who could tell us more. You failed to fulfill that promise. I will not let you into my bed until you do.”
The change in his face broke her heart. From confused and regretful, a cold realization smoothed his expression.
“Right,” he said, straightening his neck, his eyes gleaming like glass. “Because I’m nothing to you but a means to an end.”
She swallowed hard. “Just like I’m nothing to you but a womb to impregnate. The last chance for you to get back your fortune. Because looking at all this, it is obvious how much you need it.”
She regretted the words the moment they left her mouth. She hated herself for saying them. His head jerked back in an expression of hurt. He didn’t say anything, then slowly shook his head.
“You don’t want me in your bed? You want to progress in your search?” He nodded slowly. “As you wish, madam. I will deliver. Because you’re right. And thank you for reminding me. You’re nothing to me but a woman to birth my heir. And I am nothing to you but a blue coat to give you access to the navy. I hope you find your cold bed comforting.”
With that, he crossed the room and marched out.
Calliope stood alone, listening to his retreating footsteps.
She was left with nothing but William’s dark shadow.
She’d been so wrong. Even though she was not married to the hateful man, he was still present deep inside. Would she never be rid of him?
13
The fist came at Nathaniel’s stomach and the whole left side of his torso exploded with pain.
Good.
Anything to distract him from the fact that his gorgeous new wife didn’t think he was worthy to bed her unless he delivered the information she sought.
The crowd in Portside erupted in bloodthirsty cheers around him.
“Noble Knuckles!” he heard a small part of the crowd cheering for him. “Noble Knuckles!” He grimaced at the embarrassing nickname, though he truly appreciated the support.
All bets were on his opponent tonight—a huge Scotsman a whole head taller than Nathaniel—a MacDonald from Islay with striking black hair and brown eyes.
“MacDonald!” the majority of the club cried. “MacDonald!”
Noble Knuckles was a distant call in the sea of voices cheering for the Scotsman.
Nathaniel welcomed the challenge. Not only would it allow him to win a larger-than-normal sum, but there also couldn’t be a more worthy opponent to beat the thoughts of Calliope out of his mind. To replace his burning desire for her with pure pain.
