Till Dawn with the Devil (19 page)

Reign set side the small shovel, idly wondering if Sophia would think him a beast for demanding his husbandly rights twice in one evening.

“There,” he said, standing. “In time, the room should be warmer.”

“With you beside me, I had not noticed the chill, my lord,” she said shyly.

He walked over to the opposite wall to a small table. “Reign,” he said absently as he picked up a Staffordshire jug and poured water into its matching shallow basin.

“I beg your pardon?”

Reign shot her an irritated look, but he was too far away for her to notice. He plunged his hands into the water and scrubbed the coal dust from his hands. “I have spent the good part of an hour pumping myself between your luscious thighs, Sophia. Marriage and intimacy gives you the right to call me by my given name.” He plucked a small towel from the table and wiped the moisture from his hands.

Sophia hugged her knees to her chest. The shadowed interior of the bedchamber made it impossible for him to see if his frank language had caused her to blush. “Yes, of course, my lord. Forgive me. Uh, I—Reign.”

He tossed aside the small towel and selected another. “An apology is unnecessary, my dear,” he said, feeling indulgent. He stuffed the towel into the jug and paused. “This marriage is foreign to both of us, and allowances must be made.”

“Of course, Reign,” she said meekly.

Reign snorted. Sophia, he was discovering, was anything but the meek creature she was pretending to be. He retrieved the towel and squeezed the excess water into the basin. With the wet towel
dangling from his fingers, he returned to the bed.

Sophia slipped lower under the bedding. “Is that for me?” she asked, preferring to stare at his hand rather than his misbehaving cock.

“Yes.”

She wrinkled her nose. “I am not weak-spirited, Reign, or prone to a fit of vapors. I do not need a damp cloth for my head to recover from our lovemaking.”

“Indeed?” His mouth quirked in amusement. Perhaps his bride was as eager as he was to sample the carnal delights of their marriage bed again. “The towel, however, is not for your head.”

Her brow puckered in bewilderment. “Is it for you?”

Reign laughed at the absurd notion. “No.” He ignored her squeak of surprise as he pulled the sheet from her grasp and exposed her naked body. “The towel is to ease your soreness.”

Sophia’s face turned pink. “There is no need, my lord . . .”

“Oh, I insist, my lady,” he said, thoroughly enjoying himself.

Reign sat on the edge of the mattress beside her. His cock twitched and lengthened against his thigh. There was little he could do about his arousal. Being in Sophia’s presence tended to bring out the beast in him. “Be a good girl and part your legs for me.”

“This seems outrageous.” In a petulant manner,
she straightened her legs and parted them as he had requested.

His jaw clenched. “I hurt you, Sophia,” Reign said, his humor fading when he noticed the smear of blood on her upper thigh. “Let me take care of you.”

Reign pressed the towel against her womanly cleft. Sophia sucked in her breath as the cool wetness caressed the sensitive flesh. “Does that hurt?”

“No,” she denied, shaking her head. “Reign, you did not hurt me.”

She was being too generous.

“There is blood on your thigh, Sophia.”

Reign removed the evidence with a swipe of the towel. “I have little experience with virgins,” he said in a rush of unexpected frustration.

Sophia covered his hand to still his gentle caressing strokes. “And I have little experience with husbands. Nevertheless, we both survived.”

Reign gave her a suspicious glance. “Are you mocking me, wife?”

Her half smile confirmed it. “A little, perhaps. Is that terribly wicked of me?”

“Yes.” Reign dropped the small towel, and lunged forward, caging her with his lean body. They were both acutely aware that the side of his rigid cock was resting against the nest of curls between her thighs. He bowed his head, letting their foreheads meet. “Teasing me has consequences, Sophia. Are you prepared to pay the price?”

Reign shifted his position so the head of his cock nestled in the opening of her sheath. Her body responded, coating his head and shaft, which deepened the penetration. All he wanted to do was thrust until she cried out his name again in pleasure.

Still, he waited.

Sophia wiggled as she pondered his question. The small movement brought him one inch closer to madness.

“Hmm . . .”

“Sophia?”

His wife was determined to torment him with her newly found power over him. If he was wise, Reign mused, he would nip this outrageous behavior before Sophia deduced that she could keep him out of her bed.

Sophia tilted her chin upwardly in a smug fashion and smiled at him. “Yes, my lord, I believe I am willing to pay the price.” She wrapped her hands around the nape of his neck and pulled his mouth to hers.

Reign did not need any further encouragement.

Such outrageous behavior should be rewarded.

Sophia awoke at the sound of the maid opening the curtains. She winced at the sunlight streaming in and turned her face away. There was a soreness between her legs that was not unexpected, considering how many times her husband had reached for her throughout the night. She lifted her head and glanced at the other side of the bed. It was empty.

Reign had left her.

“Good morning, Lady Rainecourt,” the servant said cheerfully.

“Good morning,” Sophia echoed, unable to conceal her uncertainty. She sat up, and then quickly fumbled for the sheet when she recalled that she was naked.

“My name is Hannah, milady,” the maid said, moving about the room with the enthusiasm of two people. “Lord Rainecourt sent me to you. He said that you would be needing a personal maid, since you were unable to bring your own, and
thought I would do in a pinch. That is, with your approval, milady.”

“Where—” Sophia cleared her throat. “Where is my husband?”

Reign must have warned Hannah about his new wife’s ruined vision. The maid approached Sophia and stopped directly in front of her.

“His lordship is in the study, milady, attending to business.”

She rubbed her eyes and peered at the servant. Hannah was young. Sixteen would be Sophia’s guess. The girl barely had enough meat on her bones to be considered thin, but she was tidy and eager. Sophia prayed the maid was patient, too.

Sophia placed her hand over her grumbling stomach. “Has Lord Rainecourt had his breakfast?”

“Aye. It is almost midday.”

“Midday?” Sophia exclaimed, aghast. “I had no idea . . .”

“His lordship gave the staff strict orders not to disturb your slumber, milady,” Hannah said, oblivious to her mistress’s distress. “Would you prefer to have a tray brought to you or do you feel up to sitting in the breakfast room?”

Sophia struggled with indecision. She was now Lady Rainecourt and she did not know the first thing about being Reign’s countess. There was more to being a wife than what had transpired during the long hours after midnight. Sophia began to fidget, belatedly realizing that she
was sitting in the middle of Reign’s bed. Had Hannah and the rest of the staff speculated on how Lord Rainecourt had exhausted his new bride?

“My walking stick?” Sophia blurted out in a panic. “Have you seen my walking stick?”

It had been forgotten when Reign had swept her gallantly into his arms and carried her upstairs, she realized. She was unfamiliar with the layout of the town house. How could she go downstairs to the breakfast room without her walking stick? And what of Lucy? Stephan was cruel to deny Sophia her personal maid. Lucy had been her friend and faithful companion for years. How was Sophia supposed to go about her day without Lucy’s calm support?

Hannah searched the chair where Sophia’s dress and undergarments had been discarded. “It isn’t here, milady. But never you fret, I will have one of the footmen search the house for it.”

“I just need—” Sophia’s throat tightened, preventing further explanation.

The maid murmured a wordless sound that was meant to soothe as she clasped Sophia’s hands into her own. “There, there, my lady. Say no more. It has been an eventful day and a half, and I expect most brides suffer a bout of nerves when they find themselves in a strange house and a new husband to manage.”

Sophia smiled, her eyes bright with unshed tears. “You are too young to be so wise.”

“My mum had five daughters and six sons,”
Hannah explained. “Seven of my elder siblings have married, so you are not the first bride I have seen sniffle into her handkerchief after the deed had been celebrated.”

Hannah gave Sophia’s hand an affectionate pat as she straightened. “I know just the thing.” The maid walked across the room and opened a wardrobe. “Aye, this will suit our needs.”

It was not until Hannah had returned to Sophia’s side that she noticed the dark green banyan in the girl’s hands. “His lordship won’t mind you borrowing this so we can get you settled in your bedchamber. Now give me your arm, milady.”

Sophia dutifully extended her arm. She glanced down at the sheet that she had clasped to her breasts and frowned. Lucy had always been the one to dress her. Of late, it seemed as if she was always undressing in front of strangers.

“Oh, there is no call for modesty between a maid and her mistress,” Hannah said, taking the decision out of her hands. The maid skillfully plucked the sheet from Sophia’s grasp, nudged her off the bed, and had Sophia’s naked body covered in Reign’s banyan before a single protest was uttered.

Hannah nodded, pleased with her efforts. “That particular shade of green flatters your complexion, milady,” she said, gathering up Sophia’s dress and undergarments. She squatted and peered under the chair to retrieve Sophia’s slippers. “If I may be bold—”

Sophia bit back a smile. “Your restraint until now has been remarkable.”

Unrepentant, Hannah chuckled. “My mum is to blame. More stubborn than seven mules, my da is fond of saying.” She shifted the bundle of clothes to her left arm and took hold of Sophia’s arm. “Once I have you settled in your bedchamber, I’ll have Cook send up a tray. The breakfast room can wait another day. Several trunks arrived this morning and it would be best if you were there to supervise the unpacking.”

Hannah was indeed a marvel. The awkwardness and panic Sophia had felt when she had awakened in Reign’s bed had been soothed away by the maid’s cheeriness and efficient manner.

“Hannah?” Sophia asked as they paused at threshold.

“Aye, milady.”

“My husband was correct when he said that you would do in a pinch. However, I will need someone at my side while I learn this house and my duties as countess of Rainecourt. My eyesight is appallingly dreadful, and I confess that I will probably be more demanding than most mistresses,” Sophia warned. “Do you want the position?”

Hannah squeezed Sophia’s upper arm as her head bobbed vigorously. “Aye, Lady Rainecourt. I was hoping that I was making a good impression.”

“I doubt anyone with your enthusiasm could make any other kind.”

At the tentative knock, Reign’s attention shifted from the ledger in front of him to the door of the study. “Enter.”

To his great pleasure, it was Sophia’s face that peeked from behind the partially opened door. He had not seen her since he had slipped from the bed early in the morning. It had taken all his restraint to leave her to her well-deserved slumber.

“Good afternoon, my lord. May I join you?” Sophia’s expression revealed her uncertainty over her welcome into his private sanctuary.

Reign rose from his chair and beckoned his new bride to join him. “Please.” He mentally chastised himself as he recalled Sophia’s poor eyesight. She managed well enough on her own, and he admired her independent nature. However, the house and his servants were unfamiliar to her and he did not want her to be injured because he had been careless. Sophia was his, and he intended to look after her properly.

Reign crossed the expanse between them, allowing his bare hands to slide down her upper arms in a soothing and intimate gesture. He smiled as she lowered her lashes in a shy manner he found endearing.