Читать книгу Hunter Of My Heart - Janet Kendall - Страница 14

Chapter Five

Gripping the brass doorknob, Hunter knocked again. He glanced at his bed, a massive structure sitting atop a dais, anchored by four turned posts. Gold satin ropes secured the blue velvet drapes that hung from the canopy. No one had ever slept in his bed but him.

Fury burned his insides. Why did he bother knocking? She belonged to him, bought and paid for with his life. No one blackmailed him without punishment. If he were noble, he would thank God for sparing his life and turn his cheek, but he didn’t believe he could. He refused to be a stone beneath Sadlerfield’s feet. Or his wife’s, either.

When no reply came, he cursed. This was his home. She was his wife, and he intended to make Sabrina his in all ways.

He had no choice.

Hunter kicked the door and it bounced against the wall.

“Your lordship!” Sabrina spun around, her hand still on the outer entry.

As he leaned against the doorway, he crossed his arms over his chest. He gave her a casual perusal, one intended to stir his interest more than anything, but to couple under the duke’s command seemed to stifle his base needs. Pushing away from the portal, he stepped into the room, one smelling of gardenias. He eyed the two crocheted buttons at her throat and walked toward her.

Her arm shot out and she took a backward step. “Wait! We should discuss our, uh...situation.”

There was nothing to discuss. She’d blackmailed him and used him for target practice. If circumstances had been in her favor, she would have run from the altar. What was she up to now?

“Anything your aunt didn’t explain, I will.”

Panic flashed in her pale blue eyes, and the determined angle of her jaw put him on alert. “We didn’t start our relationship in a good way. I’d like to feel better about us before...”

“We seal our vows?”

Pink spread across her cheeks. “Yes.”

Pausing, he picked up the bottle of perfume from her dressing table and sniffed the heady scent. “What do you have in mind?”

She let out a long breath. “When we spoke the vows, we were both angry. I want them to...mean more.”

Hunter laughed harshly. “You want to hear endearing words? We’ve one purpose in this marriage. To give your grandfather an heir.”

“A ring might help. I don’t feel that we’re quite married.”

Disbelieving her quiet words, he slammed down the bottle. “You’ve my name. That’s enough. Don’t expect me to spout Lord Byron’s romantic prose or give you sentimental baubles.”

She cast him a solemn look. “Won’t people wonder about my lack of a ring?”

“Don’t use society to blackmail me into giving you a trinket.” Unfortunately, she had a point. With long strides, he closed the distance between them. He reached for her hands, studied her blunted nails and long slender fingers. They trembled in his palm, but he didn’t know the reason. Her skin was rougher than he imagined, and something made him look at her palms. Calluses scarred each, suggesting she hadn’t led a pampered life. He checked his thoughts. Feeling sorry for her had gotten him into this mess.

With his thumb, he rubbed a circle on her third finger. He dropped her hands. “The last time we made a deal, you ran with my money.”

She flashed him a look that appeared to be regret, but then blossomed into desperation. “A little impulsive on my part. Only because my aunt needs to return to her children.”

A man with half his wits could lose himself in her incredibly beautiful eyes, but he had his faculties and disliked caving in to her demand. Moreover, if he refused, he would never learn what she was thinking... or scheming. “Even if I wanted to postpone consummating our marriage, that’s impossible.”

“Have you no compassion? We’re strangers. Is it that easy for you to bed a woman?”

“Do you want your grandfather standing over us? He promised to do just that if our sheets are clean. Would you like an audience?”

She flushed crimson from her cheeks to her neck. “Of course not.”

When she lowered her head, Hunter thought she would succumb, but then she jabbed her fist in the air. He caught her wrist, but she twisted it from his hold.

Fury blazed in her eyes. “Impotent! That’s what you are! If you were man enough to stand up to him, you’d think of a way to avoid this! You don’t want me any more than I want you.”

The accusation hit his gut like a lead ball and whipped his temper like nothing else she’d said or done. He quickly realized he disliked her rejection of him. After all, he possessed a title and wealth. Considering the situation, what more could a lady want? She might think he was doing nothing to strengthen his stance, but hell if he’d tell her his plans. He glared at her hard. “So you think me impotent, do you?”

She bumped up her chin. “Yes, I do.”

In a lightning movement, he clamped his hands around her shoulders and crushed her lips with his own. Her sweet taste beckoned. Abruptly he released her. She took a gulping breath of air. He couldn’t let her soft lips lure him beyond his anger. With a swift flick of his wrist, he yanked her collar off her shoulders. Her eyes grew wide. The crocheted buttons bounced on the floor. “Get undressed. When I come back, you’d better be in my bed.” Turning, he opened her door and slammed it behind him.

Hunter flew down the stairs, grabbed a lantern from the foyer. When he opened the door, Gavin stood on the other side.

“Bloody hell! Where are ye going?”

“To the conservatory.” He motioned Gavin to join him and asked what Jonathan had learned. His solicitor had confirmed what Sadlerfield told him, but would need time to investigate the debt and Sabrina. In turn, Hunter explained the events during Gavin’s absence.

The moonlight revealed Gavin’s grim look. “Blasted! Ye sacrificed yourself. Why are ye going to the hothouse? Ye should be talking your scheming bride into bed.”

“Looking for a red dye.”

Gavin’s blue eyes widened in understanding. “Ooh. Wouldn’t it be simpler if ye just pricked your skin?”

“They’ve already stolen my life. Why should I give her my blood? Besides, that smacks of honor, and the last thing I feel is noble.” Impotent! He snarled.

“Ye’ve the right. Just take her.”

Hunter’s blood ran cold. “A willing bride appeals to me more. If a few days will make her more agreeable, I won’t have to live with guilt. Besides, I want to find out what she’s planning. She ran away, and now seems almost...biddable.”

“Aye, something doesn’t quite ring true.”

A few moments later they entered the conservatory. A rush of hot, humid air, smelling moldy and fragrant, hit Hunter in the face. The housekeeper cared for his mother’s flowers, but they still looked neglected. Nostalgia wrenched his heart. How often had he watched his mother tend her plants and explain which ones provided good dyes for her paints? Shaking away the memories, he scooted around the wooden benches. Now wasn’t the time to bask in her warmth.

“Damnation. Do you remember which one had sap that resembled blood?” Hunter scratched his head.

“Bloodroot?”

“Yes. Help me find the damn thing.” As Hunter searched and pinched, he realized he’d accumulated a nosegay.

“Found it!” Gavin handed him the pot.

Taking the sprigs, Hunter added them to his bouquet. “She wants Lord Byron. She’s going to get him.” He paused. “I plan to give her a well-deserved lesson.”

Kenilworth was torturing her with his absence. Sabrina sensed she would pay for her impulsive words. Would he demand his rights as a husband? She glanced at her cotton nightgown, one with ribbons lacing the front. With trembling hands, she tightened the bow at her neck.

She’d never seen a man in such an angry state. Beneath his fury, passion simmered. The taste of him lingered on her lips and made her tremble again.

She had no choice.

Without a doubt, she knew Lord Sadlerfield would hover over them as they...

Closing her eyes, she willed away the horrid image of such a spectacle. If she agreed to the consummation, her...husband might let her return to London with Marga. She had to believe he would be more agreeable once they finished the union. Dread and anticipation dampened her skin. She’d try to talk to him first. If all else failed, she would succumb.

Slowly she entered his bedchamber, which smelled of his clean scent. She glanced at his bed, rising like a blue sphinx in the room. Sheraton furnishings carved from mahogany graced the room. Stopping in front of a cheval mirror, she regarded her nightgown again. One powerful grip and he’d split the cloth from neck to toe. The image sent a tremor down her spine.

A creak in the hallway made her dash for the bed. She burrowed beneath the covers, and with only her nightgown hugging her, she searched for her rainbow. Unfortunately, nothing surfaced amid her surroundings. Kenilworth’s clean scent clung to the bedsheets, a clear reminder of the man who could, with a touch or word, send her senses and emotions into a whirlwind.

Suddenly the door swung open and a mixture of fragrances filled the room. Stifling a cry, she pulled the counterpane to her chin. Kenilworth’s flash of white teeth glowed brighter than the sconces lighting the room. She clung to the sheets.

“No need to look like a mummy.” Closing the door, his gaze traveled from her feet to her hands and then to her face.

“The air’s chilly.”

“We’ll warm the bed.”

She forced herself to breathe. “I want to wait to consummate the marriage.”

“Let’s see if I can ease the situation.”

“Does that mean you will?”

“I brought you some flowers.” With a light step, he strolled to the bed and presented her with a courtly bow.

She narrowed her eyes. “What are you doing?”

Plucking a flower from his hand, he tucked it behind her ear. “Let go of the sheets.”

When she ignored his command, he yanked the bed linens and dropped them at her feet. Alarm shot through her as she covered her bosom with her hands. A corner of his mouth curved. As he sat, his hips pressed against her thigh, their clothing forged a bridge between their flesh.

Fighting for a calm look, she tried to scoot away, but he planted his left hand on her other side. “Why did you bring me flowers?”

He placed the bouquet on his lap. After selecting a carnation, he stuck the stern through a lacing hole of her nightgown. “I’ve always liked it when a lady smells sweet.” He bent and sniffed.

His face was so close to her breasts that she knew one movement would cause them to meet. She dared not breathe, but his warm breath filtered through her gown and a prickly sensation moved across her skin. When he straightened, she drew a quiet gulp of air. “Do I look like a vase yet?”

A slow grin broke the angled lines of his jaw. “Not quite.”

She pursed her lips. “Why are you decorating me in flowers?”

“Smell this one.” He pulled a lily from his lap and waved the petals beneath her nose.

The heady scent thickened the air around them. Taking her hand, he wrapped her fingers around the stern and held them in place. He brought the flower to his nose, looked down at her with half-lowered lids. Trembling, she desperately tried to hide her fear.

Releasing her hands, Kenilworth put the bouquet on the bed, then shrugged out of his frock coat. He tossed it onto the floor. Belatedly she realized that he no longer trapped her, and slid a good foot away from him.

He untied his cravat and threw it on the sheets. “Keep going. You’re in the middle of the bed. I need a little more room than that.” He eyed the space between her and him.

Her pulse soared. “Milord, you’re exercising your rights?”

Sitting, he pulled off his boot and the mate followed. “You haven’t moved. I’m coming to bed.”

Angst mutated to anger and she punched his back. “Answer my questions! I’ve a right to know what to expect from you!”

Flinching, he looked over his shoulder with narrowed eyes. “I could say the same of you.”

He padded to the fireplace and threw in kindling and peat. Flint grated and flames crackled to life, sending another sweet scent into the air. Moving from the lantern on his bureau to the one atop his secretary, he blew out the flames in each.

Sabrina captured a calming breath. She’d never lost control before, and this man possessed a powerful aura that sent her emotions careening. His lithe movements resembled a predatory animal stalking a fledgling.

He moved to the sconces. “Would you put out the candle on your side table? I’ll get the one on my stand.”

Glancing to her right, Sabrina grimaced as she moved. Her weight crushed the flowers. She put out the candle, but after laying down the snuffer, she curled her fingers around the silver candlestick. For one second she considered crowning him on the head. Suddenly she experienced a pang of guilt. He’d brought the flowers as a peace offering. Hadn’t he?

“Don’t even consider it.”

“I’m trying to curb my impulses.” Turning, she reached for the flowers beneath her. When she brought the destroyed bouquet to her nose, she drew a sharp breath. Red liquid covered her fingers.

“Did you enjoy our consummation?”

Slowly she realized what he had done. She should have been grateful. “You lout! Letting me believe you were going to do it.”

With an unreadable expression, he crawled into bed. “I might yet. Can’t say what will happen between now and morning.”

She whacked him with the bouquet. Petals flew like leaves in the wind. “You’re cruel! This wasn’t funny!”

He grabbed her wrist, held her gaze with stony green eyes. Their breath came short and hot, stirring the clove scent that hung between them. His clasp made her fingers go numb. The flowers dropped on his chest.

“Cruel? You want to know what that would be? I’d have ripped off your gown and not prepared you for anything.”

Warmth invaded her flesh followed by another surge of guilt. She didn’t fully understand his words, but his harsh tone said enough. He could do anything he wanted. He owned her. Resentment bubbled anew, and she had to force a conciliatory smile. “You’re right. Let’s talk about something else.”

Releasing her hand, he looked down on his flower-covered chest. Swipes of red and green stained his shirt. “About what?”

“Have you booked passage for our return to London?”

“I’ve arranged your aunt’s. My friend Gavin will escort her.”

“You have friends?” The second the words flowed, she wanted them back. She didn’t want to rile his temper again.

The muscles in his neck tightened. “Go to sleep.”

Slowly she gathered the flowers off his chest, taut as a board. “What about us? Why can’t we return to London with Marga? She’s the creative one. I’m the one who manages the business side.”

“You don’t own the shop anymore. I do.”

As his words slowly registered, anger burned her insides. By marriage law, her share of the shop now belonged to him. He was controlling her life. “What do you want with a dress shop?”

“The records. Someone swindled me out of six thousand pounds. I think I should know the source of the debt. Don’t you?” His eyes turned as hard as granite.

Deuced. He was a man who didn’t like to lose, and she’d blackmailed him. “I can’t change your mind about London?”

Taking the bouquet from her hand, he dropped it on his side table. “No, but unless you go to sleep, I might change my mind about consummating our vows.”

She dropped back. “Will the flowers work? Are we safe from my grandfather? Why did you do this?”

“I’m emulating Lord Byron.”