An Affair of Honor (Rebel Hearts Book 2) (19 page)

“You dream of the war?”

His nod was brisk. “Every death I dealt, every wound I inflicted. Only it is worse than when it actually happened. I’m…”

He almost said more, but he turned away as if he couldn’t face her.

Matilda’s heart skipped a beat. She had no understanding of the violence of war, but clearly William could not bear it. It was months now since his participation had ended. He never spoke of his past. She had imagined he’d not cared to dwell on it.

Matilda set her hand to his shoulder, then glided her fingers softly over bare, heated skin. Touching him seemed too intimate, but he’d always responded well to her caresses during his convalescence. “I had no idea. Lie down now.”

William folded to the mattress slowly. “Will you stay in my arms tonight?”

She bit her lip. Once since their marriage he had managed to wrap around her without waking her from sleep. Was that all he wanted?

He moved backward, sliding under the sheets, tucking his pillow under his head, leaving a wide space for Matilda to fill. His eyes never left her face. He held out one hand, reaching for her.

Matilda considered his request and then nodded. He was mostly dressed; Matilda was completely covered by her nightgown. She moved to blow out the candle. They were husband and wife, and he needed her.

She climbed into his bed, rather breathless at her boldness as she pressed her back against William’s chest. He covered her up with the bedding, then wrapped his arms about her tightly. “Thank you.”

The warmth and strength of his embrace caused her heart to flutter, as did the way he kissed her hair. “You’re welcome.”

After a time his breathing slowed and his grip softened. She rolled a little away from him, but his grip firmed, preventing her leaving him. He made a sound that reminded her of his desperate pleas during his recovery when he could not speak.

Matilda wriggled to get comfortable and closed her eyes, fighting back tears. Had he suffered the nightmares even then and not been able to convey what truly troubled him?

She pressed her hands lightly over his arms, listening to him fall deeper into sleep, hoping he would not dream again.

Tomorrow would be soon enough to discover if there was any way she could help him avoid further nightmares or lessen the horror of them. He’d been so brave, stoic, hiding his troubled thoughts from her for months. The least Matilda could do was support him when he needed her most.

Fourteen

K
eeping a promise had never been harder. For weeks he’d escorted his wife around London—shopping, amusements, attending balls, dining with friends while his sisters searched for a husband, and acting utterly smitten.

Which he might very well be.

Matilda had thrown herself into the role of wife with great enthusiasm. Her retiring nature had evolved into a confidence he felt decidedly proud of. But there was one problem with his scheme. He hated every moment of the lie, especially when Matilda was the center of attention from other men.

She didn’t want him, and although she did not appear to want anyone else, his palms itched every time she smiled at gentlemen, and there was to be no relief for that. He’d promised not to harm her in any way, even though she tempted him, even though she was, in all respects bar the bedroom, his loving wife.

She had grown accustomed to sleeping in his arms, at least for part of the night, and he was grateful. For the past weeks his nightmares had receded, and she respected his wish not to discuss them again. When his nightmares did return, he would cuddle up close against her until the panic faded and lie beside her until morning came.

While he listened to her even breaths at night, he considered a future that might keep her in his life. During the weeks of their marriage, he’d grown accustomed to her presence. Of taking care of her and seeing that she had everything she could need to be happy. He interrupted her conversation to pass her a glass of sherry. “For you, my dear.”

“Thank you, William,” she murmured with a shy smile. However, she quickly returned to her conversation with his excitable sisters, leaving him to his guests.

Polite wasn’t enough for him. They did not have a true marriage.

And that lack of connection was slowly eroding his calm.

He shook his head and returned to his friends. “Where is Mr. Nelson this season?”

Cobb and James Mitchell smiled broadly. “He wrote to say he found a distraction in Wales during the winter and will stay for the summer too.”

Not surprising. His friends were a lusty lot with a broad taste for amorous adventures. “Another bored married woman?”

Mitchell laughed softly. “Is there any other sort of distraction to chase after?”

“None that I know of.” William smiled and then quickly expanded that remark. “However, that was before I married.”

“Poor bastard,” James Mitchell remarked and then toasted William’s wife. “It must be such a hardship being married to that gorgeous woman.”

“Oh, it is,” he said, laughing as he was expected to do but secretly agreeing that marriage to Matilda was difficult for a man of his inclinations. He was a scarred war hero with a beautiful wife he couldn’t touch, without means for any sort of relief in the near future. It was more frustrating than not being able to speak. Even more frustrating than knowing he couldn’t kiss her again.

The fact that this sham marriage had sprung from his idea didn’t mean he had to like it. As much as he tried to be satisfied with only her friendship, he couldn’t control her the way he needed to. The way he wanted to bend her to his will would probably frighten her. He’d fooled himself that he could suppress his instincts when all he wanted to do was drag her off somewhere private to make her cry out in both pain and pleasure.

Cobb sidled closer when Mitchell drew away. “I thought to meet you at Fowlers last night.”

William glanced around discreetly before answering Cobb. Matilda still had no idea he was a client of a discreet brothel, a place that provided willing women for patrons to scold. “I’ve no desire to go.”

Even though he had permission to kiss other women, he couldn’t do it. The idea twisted his stomach into knots of distress. What if other women were not as kind as Matilda when he kissed them? What if they laughed at him or were utterly revolted by his scar?

Mitchell returned, smirking as he pushed between William and Cobb. “She distracts you again. However did you get the lovely lady to marry you when all you can do is scowl at her? ”

“There was no other choice once I got to know her.” He rattled off his well-rehearsed story of falling in love with the woman who’d saved his life to his friend and waited to see if he was believed.

“I see,” Mitchell said, frowning. “It’s just you usually chase a certain type of woman. Is she agreeable to that?”

Damn, but even Mitchell knew which disappointments to dig his fingers into. “No.”

“That must be frustrating,” Cobb remarked dryly. “You should indulge at Fowlers.”

“I cannot consider it.” That part of his life had to be held in check until he was free of this marriage. He owed Matilda his constancy at the very least since the end of their marriage would tarnish her reputation.

He did not care to think of that future at times.

A strange smile turned up the corners of Cobb’s mouth, and he leaned close. “Surely there is a way to bring her around if you possess enough rope.”

He bristled. “Have a care for your remarks, Cobb. That is my wife you speak of.”

“Apologies.” Cobb grinned. “I forgot your tender heart prefers silk bindings on your women rather than rope.”

“Stow it,” William warned.

Matilda approached, and Cobb thankfully stopped needling him. “Mrs. Alderman is feeling unwell and was hoping you might escort her to her door, Mr. Mitchell.”

Mitchell’s eyes glittered with amusement and eagerness both. He and the lady were neighbors and had a standing weekly rendezvous. Tonight must be the night, William assumed.

“Of course.” Mitchell took his leave, heading toward Mrs. Alderman and offering his arm solicitously as if she were truly unwell. The pair were well versed in their charade of congenial friendship. He would do well to learn from them and mimic their disinterest around others.

Cobb bowed. “Perhaps I will see you at the club soon, Captain.”

“Unlikely,” William replied tightly, frowning after his friend.

Matilda remained at his side, and after their remaining guests had departed, she faced him. “I did not know you were a member of a gentleman’s club.”

William raised his eyes to the heavens. “I’m not.”

“Then what place was Cobb talking about?”

Damn, but he didn’t want to begin lying to Matilda now. She already knew the dark path his lust took him. If he told her about Fowler’s brothel, he could be guaranteed she’d never make the mistake of believing he could be changed as so many wives thought of their spouses. “A brothel. He was talking about attending a brothel I used to frequent.”

She gasped out loud. “But why would you of all people need to buy a woman’s affections?”

William took Matilda by the wrist and led her to the brandy and sherry table, far away from the door. He didn’t want to shout out his depravity for all the staff to hear. He had to tell her himself. He wanted to be the one to explain his nature since he had a feeling Cobb wasn’t going to let the matter drop.

He stared at the liquor before him rather than Matilda. “There are not many women among my acquaintances in the
ton
who wish to be disciplined. Many ladies require incentives to assume a subservient position. It is easier to pay for the pleasure than run the risk of a failed affair being gossiped about and me being labeled a monster for my tastes.”

Matilda’s hand fluttered to her neck. “Is that where you were going before we married? To a brothel to spank strange women?”

Her question reflected her horror and he winced. “I went but did not. I could not because of you.”

It was utterly humiliating that Matilda had his pleasure wrapped around her finger. She had always drawn his attention, but now that he was married to the woman, he was fixated. Becoming obsessed.

“Me?” she whispered in shock. “How recently did you go?”

“The night before we married,” he admitted. “I hoped to calm myself.”

“Captain.” Her breath shuddered out. “I don’t know what to say.”

“The problem is mine. You’ve done nothing wrong.” She never had, and yet he could only think of her. Want her. Matilda lived in comfort and had every luxury he could offer her, and yet she still did not want him.

Not the way he had grown to crave her.

It was utterly baffling how the idea of marriage to Matilda, of prolonging their arrangement, scared him far less than an affair with anyone else. He’d only had to lay eyes on Miss Chudleigh for the briefest of glances before his heart had started to race with the overwhelming urge to flee.

He’d never felt the desire to marry.

He had done everything in his power to avoid the institution since he’d reached his majority. However, he’d always wished for companionship that could sate his desire to dominate. “No one else has affected me the way you do. You are extraordinary, and you don’t even know it.”

He was proud of her mettle and commitment to his bargain. She had managed to convince everyone they met that their marriage was satisfying, offering a shy remark on her good fortune that was entirely believable to others. He’d heard her praise with his own ears. Apparently he was a generous and kind husband, and he was glad she said so even if it was a lie.

He shook his head. “Would you care for another sherry, my dear?”

“I’d like that very much,” Matilda whispered.

William poured half a glass and handed it over. She sipped slowly, a frown between her brows. William downed a brandy and then another. There was no point dwelling on what could not be altered. “Did you enjoy your evening?”

“Not exactly,” she whispered.

A blush grew over Matilda’s cheeks as the butler cleared his throat at the door. “Is there anything else you require, Captain?”

“Nothing. Goodnight, Carter.”

When they were alone, he leaned close. “What is wrong, Matilda? No, don’t answer me here. Come to bed and tell me there.”

He held his tongue until they were upstairs in the privacy of their chambers. He closed the doors on the dressing room and bedchamber. “Now tell me.”

Matilda winced. “I truly don’t understand why so many believe a newly married woman would want to share intimate details of her private life.”

“You are very lovely, Matilda, but you are an unknown. They are testing your character to see what sort of marriage this is.”

She wrapped her arms about her chest. “It is none of their business. None but ours.”

“They likely do not agree. Even my own friends, friends who know my nature, ask questions. You are much more alluring than you can possibly understand.”

“I’m nothing special.”

“You are everything.” He tipped his head to the side, trying to see her as others might. Glossy dark hair, simple but elegant gowns, but her eyes were without guile as they held his stare. “If we had just met at a dinner at a friends house, I would attempt to lure you to the gardens and have my wicked way with you. Any man would, but I probably shouldn’t have confessed that. You might yet throw me over.”