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No, she wouldn’t be able to assume anything. She was too innocent. But she would be shocked if he went straight upstairs and pounced on her. She’d accuse him of being an animal, driven by base lusts. A rake. A fiend.
So he’d better leave her for a while to settle into her new room before making what she’d probably consider his beastly demands upon her.
With a grimace of distaste at the prospect of such a response, he took himself off to his study.
His hands shook as he unstoppered the heavy decanter and lifted it. Damn it! He slammed the crystal decanter back down on the table, picturing the way Clare’s nose would wrinkle if she smelled brandy on his breath. Held his trembling hands before him, imagining the scorn in her eyes if she assumed he was nervous. Not that he didn’t have a right to be nervous. So much rested on the outcome of his performance this night. He had to break down Clare’s dislike and distrust of him enough to get her to relax, so that she could enjoy her initiation into married life.
Though it wasn’t nerves. It was anticipation that was making him tremble. The thought of finally having her in his bed was enough to make him drop to his knees and give thanks to the God he wasn’t at all sure he believed in anymore.
Though, ironically, that was a gesture she might approve of—her husband dropping to his knees beside their bridal bed and offering up thanks to the deity who’d brought them there. A wry smile touched his mouth at the image—her sitting in her bed, piously approving while he knelt on the rug, ranting like a dissenter.
Ah, Clare, poor Clare. He shook his head. Chained for ever to a confirmed sinner, when all she wanted was to rise above every temptation the world had to offer.
Well, tonight, he was the one who was going to rise to the challenge. And she was going to sin.
And enjoy every damned second of it.
He had the skill. He had the experience.
And tonight he was going to unleash it all on her.
With a mirthless smile, he left his study, crossed the hall and mounted the stairs two at a time.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
There was a short, imperious rap on the door before Lord Rawcliffe strode in, claiming the room.
‘You…that is, I…that is, I hadn’t expected you to come to me so soon,’ she stammered.
She’d thought he would at least have given her time to get out of her wedding dress and into her nightgown. She was hoping she’d even have time to down the glass of wine she’d just sent for.
But, no. There he was, standing in the doorway, looking all harsh and determined and handsome and wicked.
Temptation in the flesh. And what flesh. He was so tall and muscular, and the way his lids drooped ever so slightly as he ran his smoky eyes over her with a look that made her insides melt…
She swallowed.
She’d always thought that marriage was a sacrament. That joining with a husband ought to be a holy occasion.
But the man she’d married was the walking embodiment of sin.
Her stomach flipped.
‘I am not ready.’ Her heart started pounding. Parts of her that never ought to be mentioned were throbbing. Because of him.
He strolled across the room, going straight to the bed, across the foot of which lay the nightgown Lady Harriet had insisted she wear tonight. He picked it up and let the fine lawn sift through his long, supple fingers. Then held it to the light, which shone right through it.
He shook his head as though in disbelief. ‘I take it Lady Harriet procured this scandalous piece of frippery?’
She flinched at his implication she was not the kind of woman who could get away with wearing anything so sensuous.
‘Yes, well,’ she said, flinging up her chin, ‘she thought she was being kind. She went right through my clothes and threw up her hands in horror when she saw the patches on my nightgown. Said it was not what a bride should wear for her husband on their wedding night. And that I shouldn’t allow your servants to see it, or they might think I wasn’t worthy of you. And there just wasn’t time to do any shopping for the kind of thing that would have suited me and make it look as if I was the kind of woman you should have married, and…’ She faltered to a standstill as he tossed the flimsy bit of nothing aside and stalked towards her.
