Nola (5 page)

"You've never
been married - how would you know what I'm uncomfortable about?" she asked
after swallowing the big bite.

"Surely even you
aren't naive enough to think that one has to be married to enjoy the pleasures
of the flesh?" His schoolmaster's
tsk
made her color
even worse, but she kept her eyes on her beignet. A sudden thought struck
Wilde, although he'd never heard any mention of Brandon Sawyer having a problem
with women. "He hasn't... hurt you, has he?"

She wasn't at
all sure how to answer that query, then for some reason, she opted for the bald
faced truth. "He spanks me."

Both of Wilde's
eyebrows headed north at that revelation. But his reaction wasn't at all what
she wanted. A huge, somehow self satisfied grin spread over his face. "He does?"
There wasn't even the smallest ounce of sympathy in his voice.
Absolutely none.

Nola glared at
him for all she was worth, but it didn't seem to be doing any good. "You're not
supposed to be happy about that, Wilde. You're supposed to want to defend my
honor and want to beat him up for it."

"Not if I think
it's good for you. I've always thought that your father should have taken you
more in hand, Nola. Perhaps your husband is going to do that. I think that
could only help you." He was serious for a moment, "But if you're telling me
that he takes his fists to you, then we'll definitely have to have a talk."

She squirmed in
her seat, realizing she couldn't say that without lying, and she wasn't a liar.
She could be an instigator, and sometimes she was a bit too outspoken, but she
wasn't a liar. "Well, he hasn't, yet. He's done worse, though!"

"Worse?"

"Yes! He's -
he's..." she wanted to tell him, but the words couldn't make it past her lips.

"Made love to
you?" Wilde filled in
in
a bare whisper. "Been free
with his hands and... other parts?"

He thought she
was going to explode in embarrassment right in front of him, but that was how
he knew he'd struck the right chord.

"Worse.
Much worse.
He makes me..."

Wilde could fill
that sentence in with any number of suggestions, but then he thought of what
might make a woman like Nola so completely incensed, thinking of how flustered
she'd become, and what her new husband might do that would annoy her that much.
When it struck him, he just blurted it out. "You like it."

"Oh
dear God."
The pastry tasted like ash in her mouth as Nola realized that he'd struck on
exactly what she'd been struggling to tell him but mortified that he might
actually realize it. She buried her face in her hands, wishing desperately that
she could disappear.

"I'm right,
aren't I?"

Her words were
badly muffled by her hands, but he had
leaned
so far
forward that he caught every syllable. "I am so ashamed, Wilde. I - why - I
can't stop it! I don't like it - I don't want
- "

Wilde was at a
loss. That she could have been so completely innocent, and yet, apparently,
brought to the heights of ecstasy. Wilde's measurement of the man
rose
several notches. There were few men of his class that
would have bothered to do much beyond essentially breeding with his wife,
figuring that she wouldn't have been brought up to be interested in any of the
finer points of lovemaking.

He had to admit
that he had originally been very prejudiced against Sawyer's play for Nola.
He'd seen too many of that type of man - the spoiled only son in a phenomenally
rich family. The tendency for abuse was rife in that type of situation, and he
had worried that Nola would simply have been another trinket for Sawyer to put
in a display case and take out occasionally, when she intrigued him at first,
then ignore as the marriage progressed.

As her closest
friend - male or not - Wilde had done some digging about the youngest Sawyer,
and had been somewhat befuddled by what he'd found. There could be no doubt
that the man was a playboy - an impressively discreet playboy, but a playboy
none the less. Despite the fact that he was known to be ruthless in his
business dealings, despite the fact that he was much less than the unfailingly
polite gentleman that upper society required of its scions, Wilde couldn't find
anyone to speak a word against him. Although he certainly didn't have to, he
got up every morning and went to work at his father's business - almost without
fail. He didn't spend money lavishly, yet lived a comfortable lifestyle. He
paid his workers well, and didn't take lavish vacations himself, and, it
seemed, treated everyone, from his servants to his peers, with the same general
disdain.

He'd watched as
Sawyer had maneuvered his way into Nola's parents' good graces - not
necessarily worrying much about how Nola felt about him, or his suit, but
making sure that his parents knew who he was, and how well Nola would be taken
care of, doing all of the right things as far as Mr. and Mrs. Hughes were
concerned, but not spending too much time or lavishing much attention on Nola
at all. From his view, it was almost as if Nola was a guest at her own
engagement party. Wilde knew that the decision had been made for her,
especially since she hadn't been told until a week before the party that that
was what it was for. The invitations had gone out with no hint of an
engagement, but Sawyer and the Hughes' had arranged the entire thing, including
the small wedding that was performed several months later.

Nola had
certainly vented enough to him about it, even going so far as to formulate some
sort of escape plan. She railed against the idea of essentially being sold into
a marriage by her parents, who, she knew, were looking at the monetary
advantages for the family in this merger, as opposed to having much - if any -
concern about their daughter's happiness.

Wilde had been
of a mind to help her get away, although he knew she'd never do it. As much as
she'd tried to avoid her fate - and as much as her parents had indulged her -
by getting involved in women's causes, she had been born to be married,
essentially. It was something she was expected to do, and, as much as he knew
she disliked the idea, attracting the interest of Brandon Sawyer was quite a
feather in her cap, although he knew she didn't see it that way.

They had come
close to duplicating the usual bent of things, although in a much sped up
timeframe. Wilde knew that others would be keeping a close eye on Nola's
waistline because of the rushed nature of their courtship, such as it was - and
it wasn't much.

They were seen
in the park together - properly chaperoned by her mother, of course - and
attended two or so balls, although they arrived separately and departed
separately. That wasn't all that unusual. But they were almost never seen
together in the same spot at any given time. They might as well have been
strangers - which was
just what they were.

She was invited
over to the family home - Serenity - to be checked out by his father and
grandfather, but Wilde had had a feeling that as long as she was female and
still breathing, she would have passed their muster with no problem at all.
They would both be simply overjoyed that Brandon was showing any interest in
even a marginally acceptable woman. And Nola was that - her breeding wasn't as
impeccable as they might have preferred, but at this point, Wilde figured that
neither of them was going to be a chooser. They valued grandchildren - heirs
for the family fortune - much more so than they valued a pedigree.

But despite his
own impeccable lineage, Brandon Sawyer could just as easily have been a wife beater.
Wilde inspected Nola even more carefully for any signs of
battery,
he reached for her hands and pried them off her face, sighing loudly. "Nola.
There's no way you could know this, but honestly, you're the rarest among women
- one who responds to her husband in the most basic of ways. You're
experiencing something that most women never find in their lives, except
outside of the marriage bed."

She raised her
tear stained face to him. "I could never do that, Wilde. You know that."

His heart
breaking for her, he reached out and cupped her damp cheek. "I know, my dear. I
know. But perhaps if you were to think of what happens between you two as
something to revel in rather than something to be ashamed of, it would help you
come to grips with it." He knew he was really dancing around the topic, but he
didn't want to embarrass her any more than she already had been. "Believe me.
You know I have a lot of female friends - none as special as you, of course -
and I hear such tales of uncaring husbands who simply rut over them and fall
asleep. They find no such pleasure as you have."

Nola's face
hadn't changed one iota. She still looked shell shocked and mortified to the
bone. "I think I'd rather have the kind of husband that just..." she spit the
words out as if they were acid, "did his business and left me alone."

She tried to
rescue her hands, but he wouldn't let them go. "Think about this, Nola. I beg
you. You're going to be with this man for the rest of your life." Her frown at
that thought said it all. "You need to try to find some sort of happiness with
him, or you're going to spend the next fifty years being miserable, and I
couldn't bear that."

Nola had to give
him a small smile at that. It was so like Wilde to take a situation - even one
as intimate as this - and make it about himself. She snuck a grin at him. "Oh,
I'll be sure to fix the situation now, knowing just how horrible it's going to
be for you."

Although he knew
that nothing had really been resolved, he was glad to see that she was at least
attempting to find some humor in the situation - Wilde didn't give a damn that
it was at his expense. He did have a lot of female friends - and a lot of male
friends and lovers - but none of them held a handle, in spunk and intelligence
- to Nola, and he refused to lose her to an unhappy marriage. He'd known too
many women who got unhappily married and just... gave up. Some of them even
completely succumbed to their unhappiness and committed suicide.

If he had to
speak to Sawyer himself, he wasn't about to let that happen to Nola.

As it turned
out, he ended up speaking to Sawyer a lot more quickly than he'd expected,
because the man himself presented himself in front of them at that moment, when
he was still holding her hands and she was looking a bit moist but radiant none
the less, glowering down at the two of them.

Francois,
recognizing the large, well appointed gentleman who was gracing his
establishment, flittered over to ask if there was anything he could get the
stranger, but as soon as he saw that face, he backed quietly, immediately,
away.

Wilde stood and
held out his hand to the other man, saying, "I don't believe we've ever
formally met, Sawyer. You cut in on my dance with Nola at the
Vanderbilts
' Ball the first night you two met, and there wasn't
time for introductions."

Prompted by his
action, Nola straightened her spine and performed the introductions. "Brandon,"
her use of his first name sounded rusty even to her own ears. The only time she
called him anything was usually in the heat of passion, much to her chagrin. "This
is my good friend, Wilde Everest. Wilde, this is my - my husband," both of them
noticed her hesitation, and Sawyer's face only got that much darker because of
it, "Brandon Sawyer."

Wilde's hand
stayed stuck out there, though, and Sawyer made absolutely no move to accept
it. Instead, he turned to his wife. "It is not acceptable for you to be here,
most especially not with him."

Not about to
take such an insult sitting down, Wilde bolted to his feet. "Now you see here,
Sawyer
- "

The other man
didn't so much as spare him a glance. He was too busy laying hands on his wife,
having extended his great paw to her imperiously and not gotten any sort of
response from her beyond a glare that more than matched his own. So he'd
decided to take matters into his own hands, reaching into the booth and bodily
lifting her out of it, throwing her over his shoulder and carrying her out of
the disreputable establishment like a sack of potatoes.

If he hadn't
been so angry at the blatant insult he'd been dealt, Wilde would have laughed
himself sick at the sight of his high and mighty friend - one woman in a
thousand who was almost disgustingly independent and strong minded - draped
over her husband's broad shoulder, but, of course, not taking it in stride in
the least, but rather beating on his back for all she was worth.

But then she
stopped, mid beating, and tried to look up at him, calling out, "I'm sorry,
Wilde. I'll get in touch with you soon." Then he heard her direct a nasty
comment towards her husband, "The least you could have done was pay the bill,
if you were going to drag me out of there so ignominiously. Wilde isn't made of
money like you are."

"Like
we are," he heard her husband correct in the expected growl.
It surprised
and amazed Wilde, that once he got her packed into his carriage, he did sent
the driver back in to throw a twenty on the table, even thought the entire bill
couldn't have been more than a dollar or so.