TheWifeTrap (26 page)

Shock poured through him as he lay fully sheathed inside her, deep
and tight as he could go. The truth dawned slowly, sinking into his bones.

Jeannette, his dear, innocent, inexperienced, virgin bride, was no
virgin at all.

Chapter Sixteen

Jeannette sensed the change in him instantly, swallowing hard
against the rushing return of fear and the anxious worry he’d driven from her
mind with his exquisite touch.

As soon as he’d taken her in his arms, kissed her, stroked her,
coaxed her passion to the boiling point, she’d forgotten everything save him.
He’d brought her to heights she wouldn’t have imagined herself capable of
reaching. Even now, pleasurable aftershocks sparked inside her body, fresh
desire on the verge of stirring to life again.

But his tender entry had stopped, his body grown still. Easing her
head back onto the pillow, she watched him, watched his expression and
flinched.

He knew. Dear Lord in heaven, he knew.

Maybe she should have told him the truth first, after all. But it
was too late for that now. Far, far too late.

His blue eyes shone hard and humorless even in the low light.
Strain contorted his face, radiating inside the body he had lodged so
powerfully, solidly inside her. Lowering her arms and legs, she started to
slide free of his embrace.

But he would not let her go, pinning her in place by settling his
full weight upon her. He might look lean to the casual observer but he was
pure, solid male muscle, heavy enough to drive a good measure of the air from
her lungs.

She gasped, then gasped a second time when he positioned his broad
palms upon her hips and shifted her with silent, unmistakable intent. His
action spread her wider beneath him, forced her to accept even more of his hard
length as he pushed deeper.

“Darragh, I—”

Whatever she’d been about to say, he cut her off, obviously in no
mood to hear. Covering her lips, he ravished her mouth, forcing his tongue
between her teeth at the same moment he eased back to plant himself inside her
again.

He thrust into her at a swift, relentless pace, all his earlier
restraints gone. He took her without his earlier tender gentleness, yet even as
he did, she realized he was careful not to hurt her. Quite the contrary,
thrusting into her in a way designed to maximize her pleasure, to reawaken her
sexual hunger and bring her to peak.

She sensed he was determined to force her surrender, to compel her
body to perform for him in the manner he desired, to react and behave, to obey
as he saw fit.

Aware, she resisted. Or tried to resist. But it was no use, as she
lay helpless beneath his relentless sensual assault. He bit at her lips and
pounded harder. She felt him shaking and knew he was near the edge of his own
release.

Determined to win, he reached between them and flicked his fingers
over a spot that set her instantly afire. She shook and arched into him as she
crested again on a loud, mewling cry.

She could do nothing but feel, her mind devoid of coherent thought
as he pumped furiously in and out of her for a few more strokes. He stiffened
abruptly, frame quaking in violent reaction as he followed her over the edge
into bliss.

Lungs heaving, he collapsed across her, his skin damp with heat
and perspiration. He lay atop her for a full minute, then pulled out and rolled
away.

An ominous silence descended, broken only when a log popped in the
grate and sent up a minor shower of sparks.

Suddenly chilled despite the warmth in the room, Jeannette pushed
the skirt of her chemise down over her legs. She covered her breasts next,
fingers shaking as she tied the closure of her bodice. Plucking at the sheet,
she pulled it over her then stared into the dark.

“Darragh, I’m sorry,” she whispered.

He said nothing, just lay staring up at the bed canopy.

Tears stung her eyelids but she refused to let them fall. She
sniffed. “I should have told you…”

He rolled his head on the pillow, eyes blazing. “Aye, I think you
might have mentioned it. Did you think I wouldn’t know?” His accusation struck
her like a lash.

She’d hoped he would not know, for this very reason.

“Well?” he repeated in a clipped tone.

“I knew you’d be angry, so I—”

“Grew goose-hearted and couldn’t tell me? Or did you deliberately
set out to deceive me?”

She bristled. “No. How dare you suggest—”

“Under the circumstances, I think I have a right to suggest a
great many things.” Huffing out a full-blown sigh, he curved an arm above his
head and lay silent.

She shivered. She thought about trying to explain, but what was
the point when he would not want to hear?

A pair of minutes passed.

“Who was he, then?” Darragh demanded. “And you’d better not say
your damned brother-in-law, or I may have to ride over to your cousins’ estate
and beat him bloody.”

She felt her eyes go wide in astonishment. “What? Raeburn, do you
mean?”

“ ’Tisn’t such a great stretch considering he was once your
fiancé.”

“It’s true, we were engaged, but if you knew the duke better you
would realize he’s far too honorable ever to do such a thing. No, it was not
Raeburn. You can set your mind at ease on that score and keep your fists to
yourself.”

He pinned her with a penetrating look. “Who, then? Tell me of this
dishonorable fellow who stole your virtue.”

She resisted the urge to squirm. “Not stole, precisely…” Seeing
the angry flash in Darragh’s eyes, she stopped, realizing what she’d revealed.

And really, what was she doing defending Toddy? His actions and
behavior were indefensible,
stole
a far more accurate term for what
he’d done, now that she could look back upon the past with a more sanguine eye.
Despite the Town bronze she’d acquired after two Seasons as a London debutante,
she knew now she’d been nothing but a naive innocent. A dupe willing to be
preyed upon by a flattering tongue and debonair manner. How pathetic she’d
been, willing to toss away her future in belief of his glib promises and
practiced lies.

“Then what, precisely?” Darragh persisted.

She sat up, drew the sheet high against her chest. “Does it really
matter? What existed between him and me is long since dead.”

“That’s reassuring to hear,” he said, sarcasm dripping from his
words. “So when did it end, this whatever it was? And where? Did you know this
man in London?”

She picked at the bedcovers with the tip of her fingernail, and
hung her head. “Yes, in Town. The particulars aren’t important.”

“Oh, I think they’re very important. I assume he is a gentleman,
or at least what passes for a gentleman.” Speculation clouded Darragh’s eyes.
“He didn’t by chance have anything to do with the scandal that got you sent
here, did he?”

“No.”

He cornered her with a look that had her blurting out the truth.
“Well, not directly.”

“Indirectly, then? Is he the reason you jilted Raeburn? Secretly
traded him over to your sister, as it were?”

Her gaze flew upward, pulse leapfrogging in her throat. How could
he know that? How had he guessed? To this day, not even her parents suspected
the full truth. Only Violet and Adrian and his inquisitive brother, Kit, were
privy to all the facts.

One of Darragh’s hands tightened into a fist. “Do you love him?”
His tone was glacial, icy and impenetrable as a deep mountain lake.

“No, not now. I thought I did, once, before I learned what he was
truly like.”

“Where is he now? Still in England?”

She shook her head. “The last I knew, he was on the Continent,
living off the largesse of a wealthy contessa. Wherever he is now, I most
certainly do not care to know.” She picked again at the sheet, awash in gloomy
self-recriminations. “So now that you know you’ve received damaged goods, will
you be wanting an annulment?”

He raised a single, reproving eyebrow. “I don’t see how we could
get an annulment considering we’ve already consummated our union. Even now you
might be carrying my child.”

Her gaze jerked to his. Mercy, he was right. She hadn’t even
thought of that. The one and only time she’d lain with Toddy she’d worried for
two weeks after that she might have conceived despite the French letter he’d
donned for protection against such a misstep.

To be honest, she hadn’t enjoyed the experience all that much. His
kisses and touches had been nice, but as for the rest…she could have left
that
well enough alone. Making love with Toddy hadn’t been like tonight with
Darragh. Or the night in the conservatory. He fired something deep within her,
drew forth a feverish ache that refused to be denied. Left her with a pleasured
satisfaction, the likes of which she’d hardly dreamed possible.

“What, then? Shall you repudiate me? Cast me aside?” Even as the
words fell from her lips, she quaked in horror. What if he said yes?

“I am not the blackguard you obviously imagine.”

“But—”

“I’m angry and have just cause to be. That doesn’t mean I’m cruel.
In retrospect, I suppose I should have read the signs.”

“What signs?”

“The facts. For one, that you’d been kissed before. Another, that
you didn’t faint dead away at some of my bolder moves, moves that would have
sent many an untried girl running for her ma.”

“If you’re saying I’m a—”

He raised a hand, cutting off the ugly epithet. “I’m not saying
anything of the sort. Just observing that I shouldn’t have been so stunned to
discover the truth.”

She blew out a breath. “Where does that leave us?”

“With some repairing to do, I suppose.”

“I’ve said I’m sorry. What more can I offer? What’s done is done.”

“Aye, and so it is.”

Tears returned to her eyes. She brushed one away, a sudden
rebellious fury rising within her. “It isn’t fair, you know.”

“What’s not fair?”

“Society’s double standard about women having to come to their
marriage beds pure. It’s not as if I’m
your
first, after all.”

“And you ought to be glad you’re not. Otherwise, I’d have still
been fumbling around trying to figure out which part to put where. Blasted
uncomfortable for you and damned embarrassing for me.”

A smile built slowly inside her, the image of him as an inept,
inexperienced lover painting a vivid picture in her mind. She struggled to keep
the smile from forming, but it spread over her mouth nonetheless.

He tipped his head to one side, his own black humor slowly easing.
“I guess I shall have to forgive you.”

“Can you?”

He sat up, considering the question. “It all depends. You admit
you once loved this scoundrel. Are you sure you are over him?”

“Completely sure. He is out of my life, never to return, exactly
as I would wish.”

A fleeting expression she thought looked like relief crossed his
face. “If that is so,” he said, “then I’m willing to put the past where it
belongs and begin anew. But you’ll have to promise to do the same.”

“What do you mean?”

He reached out, caught a strand of her long hair between his
fingers and began to toy with it. “Just that we’re married now. I’m not
ignorant of the fact that you had little wish for our union, nor that you
nearly ran away this morning rather than take vows. But take them you did, and
if I agree to think no more of this black fellow who took your innocence, an
innocence that should rightfully have come to me, then I think I have cause to
ask something in exchange of you.”

Releasing her hair, he tucked a knuckle under her chin and held
her steady so she couldn’t refuse his gaze. “I want a wife, Jeannette. A real
wife willing to give our marriage a fair chance. We didn’t start out under the
best of circumstances, I’ll admit, but that doesn’t mean we’ve any need to
continue that way. There’s a spark between us. Even you can’t deny that.”

She shivered at his words, drew in a shaky breath, as he stroked a
thumb across her lower lip.

“Aye,” he said, “you feel it.”

“And what if I do? It’s nothing but lust,” she charged, wanting to
convince herself as much as him.

“Lust, is it? I’m not so certain. What if it’s more? What if it
goes deeper, lasts longer, has more meaning than a few heated weeks tussling
amid the sheets?”

Her stomach did a queer little roll at the notion and the imagery
as well. He was speaking of love. But she didn’t want to love him, did she? She
didn’t want to be vulnerable and weak, open to giving her heart then later
having it ripped in two.

She shook her head. “We wed for propriety’s sake, no more, no
less. In a few weeks, the passion will die down and we’ll wonder what on earth
we’ve gotten ourselves into.” She shrugged. “But until then, you are right that
we must make the best of an impossible situation.”

“Then you’ll give it a genuine try, our marriage?”

She could always refuse. Still, Darragh was her husband now, their
marriage sanctified in the eyes of the church and the law. Given that, didn’t
she owe him an attempt at making something viable out of their union?