The Marriage Wager (13 page)

Emma’s anger faded with the turning wheels. She had been a bit hasty, she thought. What man would agree, on his wedding day, to assume responsibility for advising a wild young relative that he had barely met? It was a good deal to ask. And whether or not it was reasonable, she didn’t want this kind of marriage. She didn’t want it to begin in quarreling and coldness. She remembered the word Colin had used—comradeship. Their bargain had been based on that, and she had welcomed the idea. Was it already lost, in just a few hours?

She was afraid to turn and look at Colin. She was afraid she would see the sort of rage and distaste Edward had directed at her whenever she made any complaint or demand. The thought of facing that sort of hostility again made her feel almost physically sick.

“I think you will like Trevallan,” said Colin calmly. There was no hint of rancor in his tone.

Emma took a breath.

“It is built on cliffs above the sea,” he continued. “A stone house, for which one is very grateful during storms.”

She let herself lean back against the seat, releasing her grip on the window.

“Not that the climate is violent,” Colin went on. “In fact, I believe you will be surprised at how warm it is at this time of year. But we do get some weather off the ocean, of course.”

Emma faced him. He met her eyes gravely, but one corner of his mouth was quirked slightly up, and his dark brows were raised just a bit.

“Truce?” he said.

Something deep inside Emma relaxed. She had not made a dreadful mistake. She was not a foolish, headstrong child any longer. She had made a sensible, well-considered bargain. And it would be kept. They were both quite capable of controlling their emotions. “Is there a village near the house?” she asked.

Colin hesitated, as if he wanted to say something else, then nodded.

***

Much later, Emma woke from a light doze to find the late summer sunset just fading from the sky. Blinking, she watched a flight of blackbirds take off from a huge oak beside the road and dip and wheel in the last glow, a confetti of black silhouettes against the red stripe at the horizon. The driver of the coach was turning off the road into a narrow lane bordered by high hedges. In a few minutes, he turned the team again, into the drive of a large house built of gray stone.

“What is this?” asked Emma.

“The home of a friend of mine,” said Colin. “We are staying here tonight.”

“A bride visit?” asked Emma, a little dismayed.

“No, Ralph is not here. He merely offered me the use of the place.”

“Instead of an inn?”

“I do not intend to spend my wedding night in a common inn,” Colin declared a touch haughtily.

Emma raised her eyebrows at his tone. “I beg your pardon, my lord baron,” she murmured.

He smiled slightly. “It is not the sort of occasion for clumsy inn servants knocking to ask if we require things that we do not require, or crowds of drinkers raising a din in the taproom at an… inopportune moment.”

Emma had stiffened. He had no way of knowing how closely this described elements of her first wedding night, she told herself. He meant nothing by it. Certainly he was not taunting her. And what lay ahead was nothing like the past. But she could not stop an unwelcome flood of memories that kept her still and silent as the carriage stopped before the front door of the house.

It was opened by a footman as soon as they pulled up. One of their own servants was already at the carriage door, folding down the steps so that they could descend. Colin turned to get out. It took Emma a moment to gather her wits enough to step down onto the gravel drive and enter the fine front hall.

It was obvious that the staff had received advance orders. They were cordially greeted by the housekeeper and shown the suite of rooms prepared for them on the second floor—a spacious parlor with a comfortable bedchamber opening out on either side. Their luggage was brought up and stowed. After that, everyone disappeared, leaving them alone.

Emma’s nervousness increased. Telling herself not to be foolish, she went to one of the casement windows, open on the soft evening air, and looked out over the back of the property. There was just enough light left to see that the lawns sloped down to a broad, meandering stream where clumps of willows dangled their yellowing leaves into the water. Several horses grazed in the lush grass on the opposite bank. As she watched, a trio of swans drifted into view, very white against the dark water, floating effortlessly across the surface of the stream, their necks curved in arcs of utter grace. She heard footsteps behind her, and then Colin’s voice close to her ear. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“I visited here often when I was a boy. There is a summerhouse in the midst of those willows there”—he pointed, his hand brushing her shoulder—“where one is surrounded by whispering leaves.”

“It sounds lovely,” she said, too aware of his nearness.

“Perhaps there will be time to show it to you tomorrow.” His arms slid around her waist from the back.

Emma tried to relax against him, but she couldn’t quite manage it. She was trembling slightly, she noticed, and she began to fear that she was going to make an utter fool of herself. She pulled out of his embrace. “I just… excuse me a moment,” she said, and moved quickly into one of the adjoining bedchambers, closing the door behind her.

Everything was completely different, including herself, Emma insisted silently, as she stood rigid in the luxurious room, fists clenched at her side. But all she could think of was that night eight years ago, when she had been left alone with her new husband in the bedchamber of a run-down inn and suffered the first great disillusionment of her marriage.

After a very long day of travel and tension over whether they were pursued, they had both been tired, Emma supposed. She had been exhausted, and disappointed by the haste and plainness of the wedding itself. She desperately wanted some sort of reassurance—a declaration of love, a promise for the future, even a simple smile to say that despite the difficulties, he was glad to be there with her.

But Edward had just stripped off his coat and begun to struggle with the bootjack, taking off his muddy boots.

Not knowing exactly what to do, Emma had laid aside her cloak and gloves and taken the pins from her bonnet, setting it on the wide window ledge. The only furniture in the room was a large four-poster bed. There wasn’t space for anything else.

When she turned around again, Edward had removed his shirt and was standing before her wearing only riding breeches. He was smiling at last, but it was not the sort of smile Emma had looked for. Thinking of it now, Emma realized that it was rather predatory. He had stepped over and turned the key in the door, saying, “We don’t want to be disturbed, eh?”

And then he had come and given her one of his crushing kisses that mashed her lips against her teeth. He pulled at her gown, and grew impatient when he couldn’t find the fastenings. “We’d best get into bed,” he’d said, drawing back. “This room’s damn cold.” And with that he had turned his back, taken off his breeches, and climbed into the high bed, leaving Emma standing beside it, trembling.

Somehow, she had stumbled out of her clothes. He had enjoyed watching that, she realized now. He had always enjoyed it when she was feeling clumsy and afraid. When she got into the bed, he had jerked her against him and given her another bruising kiss. His body was hot and seemed full of sharp angles. Very soon after that, he rolled on top of her, fumbled for a moment, and then consummated their marriage. When Emma could not restrain a small cry of pain, he had laughed. And though she had tried to tell herself since then that he had mistaken her reaction for enjoyment, she knew it wasn’t true.

A knock at the door made her jump. “Emma?” said Colin.

No two men could be more different, she reminded herself. Colin found no enjoyment in tormenting others, and he certainly had not married her for her fortune. But though she called up the memory of his kiss, she still could not move.

“Emma?” he repeated. “Is something wrong?”

She was being ridiculous, Emma told herself. She was not a girl any longer, but a grown woman. She had made a bargain. It was too late to regret it or draw back now, and in any case, she kept the promises she made. Moving a bit jerkily, she went to the door and opened it.

Colin was standing just outside. He examined her face very carefully as she emerged, but said only, “They’ve brought supper. Are you hungry?”

She had no idea, but the respite was more than welcome.

A small table had been set up before the fireplace, where a fire burned despite the mildness of the evening. There were slices of cold chicken and fresh bread, a round of cheese, and a compote of apples and pears that gave off a rich, fruity scent. Colin poured a glass of wine and offered it to her. Emma took it eagerly and drank nearly half in one quick swallow before seating herself on one side of the table.

Colin raised one eyebrow and seemed about to speak. Then he thought better of it and took the other chair. “Ralph and I were at school together,” he offered as he began to fill their plates. “We became fast friends at the age of six, when we discovered a mutual passion for ferrets.”

Emma smiled, partly from relief. She was hungry, she realized, extremely hungry. She began to eat.

“He had actually brought one of his favorites with him to school,” Colin went on. “And he managed to keep it, secretly, living in his pocket for nearly a week before the masters found out. My admiration for him never wavered after that.”

“One can see why,” replied Emma. She drank deeply of her wine again.

During their meal, Colin chatted amiably about the house and his friend Ralph and the adventures they had shared there. His steady voice soothed Emma as much as the food and wine. And she was soon calling herself six kinds of idiot for her earlier behavior. By the time they rose from the table, a mellow glow had replaced her tension, and she felt prepared for whatever was to come. Indeed, she didn’t want to put it off any longer, for fear she would lose her nerve again. Taking a quick breath, she marched up to Colin and put her arms around his neck.

He looked a little startled.

“I’m ready,” she declared.

“Ready?” he echoed.

“Yes.” The word came out loud. She had had more wine than she was used to, Emma realized. But that was probably all to the good. Standing on tiptoe, she placed her lips on Colin’s and closed her eyes.

He gave her only a light kiss. “Ready for what, precisely?”

“To… to do my wifely duty,” she asserted. She was not going to think of anything at all, she decided. And she felt much better now in any case.

“Duty?” he repeated, sounding half amused, half outraged.

“Yes.” She tugged at his neck, trying to pull his head down to her again.

“Is that how you see it?”

“I do not go back on my bargains,” Emma declared, slightly irrelevantly. “I’ve married you, and I know what that means.”

One side of his mouth twitched. “Do you indeed?”

“Of course I do!” The wine was like a muffling blanket over her wits. “I’m not a child.”

His violet eyes gazed very directly into hers. “Do you want to tell me what is the matter?” he asked.

“Nothing,” Emma insisted. “Are you going to kiss me?” she added a bit querulously.

Colin gazed at her for one more long moment, then said, “Oh yes, I am going to kiss you.” He pulled her close and did so—slowly and for a long time. His lips were soft and coaxing, by turns gentle and exploratory and urgent.

Emma was dazzled. It wasn’t that she had forgotten his kisses, just that old, bitter memories had diverted her from more recent ones. She let herself melt against him, feeling the strong length of his body supporting her. When she raised her head briefly, she found that colors seemed brighter. She let out her breath in a long sigh.

“Yes?” said Colin. He looked pleased with himself, and yet still perplexed about something as well.

“Perhaps it will be all right, after all,” slipped out of her mouth.

“All right?”

“Not so unpleasant,” she clarified.

“Unpleasant!”

“You keep repeating everything I say,” Emma pointed out dreamily. Her mind was even fuzzier, and she was starting to feel extremely sleepy as well.

Colin drew back.

He had an odd look on his face, Emma mused. “We should get this over with,” she suggested. “It’s hard to stay awake.”

“Hard to…!”

“You’re doing it again.”

His jaw hardened. “It has been a tiring day,” he said. “You should get some rest.”

She was too surprised to answer.

Colin escorted her into the bedchamber where her luggage had been placed. Her legs were wobbly, Emma noted. And the walls were showing an inexplicable tendency to waver. “Do you require assistance?” he asked crisply. “Shall I ring for one of the maids?”

“But what about the bargain?” she wondered. “You said an heir…”

“That is something we can consider at another time,” he retorted. He turned and strode out, shutting the door with a snap behind him.

Emma had a vague sense that she had made a mistake. But fatigue was overwhelming her. She fumbled out of her clothes and put on the nightgown that had been laid across the bed. When she crawled between the sheets, there were a few bad moments when it seemed the room was spinning sickeningly around her. Then sleep descended with irresistible force.

***

Sometime in the night, Emma woke to a great swath of moonlight across the coverlet. The air held the scent of starched linens and river mist and was filled with the sounds of crickets. Her head ached a bit. Moments passed before she remembered where she was.

Stiffening, she sat up in bed. She remembered the events of the evening all too clearly. Wasn’t one supposed to forget the idiotic things one did under the influence of alcohol? she asked silently.

With a soft groan, she put a hand to her forehead. “Not so unpleasant,” she murmured aloud. “What a charming thing to say.” She had been as witless and tactless as any of the budding debutantes Colin had refused to marry, she thought. No doubt the same thing had occurred to him.