Tender Torment (18 page)

“I found it prudent to invite two of them here. Relington and Clarkson. Both of them have influence regarding the military
campaign being planned for this summer, and Relington’s wife seemed especially interested in visiting the Park.”

“Why?” she asked belligerently.

Straeford scrutinized his wife more closely. “Just curiosity I suspect. Of course, she is an accomplished horsewoman, and
the Park has many trails. I’m certain she…”

“I see!” Marisa cut in sharply. She was furious now and did not care if he knew it or not. While she had been sitting alone
in the country, he had been gallivanting about London and planning to bring his friends here.

“You seem upset. Is anything the matter? You’re not timid about entertaining my guests now, are you?”

“No, of course not… It’s just that I… oh, never mind.” She was hurt and found it frustrating to try to explain herself to
him.

He frowned and was perplexed by her strange attitude. “Look, I’m sure Manners and Bess will be able to handle things for you.”

“And how do you plan to amuse your guests?” she asked haughtily.

Straeford took stock of her carefully before answering. “That should be easy enough. It’s only two days. We’ll ride and play
whist, and the ladies can entertain. You do sing, don’t you?”

“A little,” Marisa lied.

Straeford raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Then you must play the piano?”

“No, I don’t,” she answered curtly.

“Hmm… I thought all aspirants to the
ton
acquired those arts.”

“You forget that I am only a merchant’s daughter, my lord.”

“What is the reason for all this sarcasm I detect? What has you so high in the stirrups?” Straeford was becoming increasingly
annoyed by her display of temper.

“To be perfectly frank, I believe I have discovered why you have cultivated so much of my time these past two weeks. I was
foolish enough to believe that it might have been because you were genuinely interested in our establishing a good… relationship.
But that wasn’t the reason at all. No, you had another motive in mind all the while.”

“Oh? And what was that, pray tell?”

“You wanted to be sure that I wouldn’t be the
source of any embarrassment to you since I am not able to ride well, and since your polite circle of friends puts so much
store in that sort of thing. Unfortunately, you overlooked something as mundane as my ability to sing,” Marisa retorted smugly.

“Why you shrew! I ought to throttle you!” Straeford stormed and took a threatening step toward her, which Marisa ignored in
the heat of the moment.

“Perhaps you should have left that task to the horse, my lord.”

“Vixen! I can see your father allowed you too much freedom of the mouth!”

“And your mother…” Marisa knew as the words left her lips that she was close to the edge of the earl’s limits. She had even
surprised herself with such an inflammatory rejoinder.

A dark scowl crossed Straeford’s face and his voice took on a low, deadly tone as he crooked a menacing finger of warning
in her direction. “You leave her out of this! And don’t you ever dare use her name as a weapon against me in this house!”

Once again Marisa dangerously tested the limits of her husband’s anger. “Why? Did your poor mother find it an impossible task
to raise an arrogant, unfeeling son who had no consideration for anyone else save himself? She must have…”

The earl could no longer restrain himself. He roared and leapt at her, his fingers seizing the white column of her throat
in an instant. Marisa gasped for breath and tried desperately to scream for help, but his grip was overwhelming, and in a
split-second flash of panic, she thought she would lose consciousness. As her eyes closed in pain and fright, the viselike
grip of his fingers relaxed around her neck, permitting her to breathe freely. Then Marisa felt herself being flung unceremoniously
into a chair, and when she dared open her eyes again, there was the threatening and thunderous black face of the earl in front
of her. “I warned you, madam,” he hissed through clenched teeth. “You broach the subject of… the late countess, you do so
at your own peril.”

Too stunned to protest, Marisa lay inert against the back of the chair and stared wide-eyed at her husband,
trying to control the impulse to run screaming from him. Her throat hurt where he had grasped it, and she massaged it slowly
swallowing hard several times.

“There’ll be no bruises,” he pronounced impassively.

“I… I suppose… that makes it all right?” Marisa felt as if she were suffering from a sore throat.

“You’ll feel no ill effects from my handling of you.”

“Is that some kind of apology for your outrageous behavior?”

“Apology?” Straeford choked, flabbergasted by her temerity. “Well, I’ll be damned! Now don’t provoke me any further, madam,
or I won’t be responsible for my actions.” A certain ruthlessness was evident in his gait as he strode to the other side of
the room. He felt a need to keep her at a distance since he was unsure of his response if she continued to goad him.

“You would not treat me as you have just now if I were a man.”

“But then, of course, you are not, are you?” His eyes roamed over her insultingly.

“Oh… if only I… I wish I could call you out and run you through,” she claimed vehemently and stuck her chin out at him in
defiance.

Straeford’s eyebrows shot upward and then his chest seemed to quiver with suppressed laughter. “I believe you would.” He found
the defiant beauty before him rather amusing as her eyes flashed and her bosom heaved with anger. “I know no other woman who
would have had the audacity to say so under the present circumstances, however.” He had to admire the courage and indomitable
spirit this woman exhibited, yet he was determined to bend her to his will.

Before delivering her parting shot, Marisa moved to the door and opened it. “You certainly live up to your reputation, Lord
Straeford. You’re as unprincipled a villain as everyone says you are.”

“I’m glad I did not disappoint you, my dear.” A sneer curled the corner of his mouth, and he cast a low mocking bow in her
direction. “I wondered how long I’d have to wait to hear you utter such words.”

Marisa’s face burned as she whirled out of the room.

Having decided to avoid the earl’s company completely in protest against his treatment of her, Marisa had remained in her
rooms for the better part of the last two days. It was now late in the evening, and she closed the book that she had been
attempting to read for more than an hour. Perhaps she would try falling asleep. For the second time that night, she blew out
the candle and crawled into bed. Her mind was filled with the confrontations she had had with the earl since they were married,
and sleep would not come. Suddenly the darkness gave way to the light of her bedroom door opening. As she sat up with a start,
the tall dark figure of the earl leaned over her.

“What are you doing here?”

“Not very imaginative, my dear.” He flung back the bedcovers, and Marisa tried to roll off the opposite side of the bed to
get away, but he had already locked his arms about her and brought her struggling body back close to his, pinning down her
arms helplessly to her sides.

“How dare you do this! How dare you come to me knowing full well that I detest your… demeaning attitude toward me. I will
not be treated as if I were chattel.”

“Will you not? Must I remind you, my dear, that you are my wife by legal marriage, and as such you are bound to obey me. And
at the moment that requires you to perform your wifely obligations to me. I will not be ignored, nor will I have you overstepping
my authority in any way.”

Unable to find adequate words to describe her feelings, Marisa shrieked and struggled in his grip until she managed to release
one arm to swing at his face, but Straeford laughed loudly as he brought it under his control with small effort.

“I won’t submit to you! I won’t!” She twisted violently and thrust her body into his, temporarily loosening his hold.

Yet it was pointless to continue to resist him for he soon had her in his power again. “My, my,” he sniggered, “such a willing
wife! Now I think it’s about time that I put an end to your rebellious ways.” His voice took
on a more serious tone. “No house can survive with two masters, and it’s time you learned which role is rightfully yours and
which one belongs to me.”

The earl seized her roughly and pressed his entire body against hers. “Don’t fight me, Marisa. You’ll only hurt yourself.”

Knowing the truth of those words, she unwillingly capitulated. She forced herself to remain impassive to his fondling until
his grip relaxed and his slow sweeping movements began to invade her very soul. Gradually he felt her stubborn defenses fade.
The feel of his warm hands gently running through her hair and then slowly along her slender shoulders awakened a new alarming
sensation within her, compelling her to respond to his commands to kiss his lips and to taste the danger of his hypnotic power
which suddenly seemed to devour her. She felt her silky nightgown slide silently from her body under his careful guidance,
and she became acutely aware of the hair on his muscular arms as they glided along her shapely form. It was a primitive but
irresistible sensation, and she found herself giving in to the urge to run her own hands through the curly tufts of hair that
appeared on his solid bare chest. Unwittingly her action drove his taut body to a fevered pitch. Needing immediate release,
he found it in her and she surrendered to his sweeping passion.

Their desire spent, husband and wife lay next to one another, a warm glow still perceptible about them. Turning toward her,
he grasped her white shoulders in his hands. “You learn quickly my little wife. If only…” He stopped in midsentence and seemed
to smile sardonically. Then he left her to ponder what he had been about to say.

After he had gone, Marisa lay alone in the darkness for a long time thinking about the curious nature of lovemaking. Her husband
had tapped sensations within her tonight she had never known before. And his physical being gave her a secret thrill that
until tonight she never knew was possible.

Gathering her covers about her and readying herself for sleep, it occurred to Marisa that there were still many
things to learn about this enigmatic man she had married.

To the young countess’s relief, the weekend was progressing much better than she had anticipated. Their guests had arrived
in time for dinner on Friday, and afterward Lady Relington, a tall, buxom, pale blonde in her mid-thirties, was only too happy
to entertain the party with slightly naughty renditions of popular tunes at the pianoforte. On the second evening there had
been a slight contretemps when the gentlemen joined the ladies in the drawing room and Marisa was asked to sing. That glib
white lie she had told Straeford during their last battle had come back to haunt her, and her pleasure in singing was dimmed,
for whenever she glanced at the earl, he was fiercely scowling at her. Even the warm praises afterward about her lovely musical
voice could not ease her feelings of apprehension, and she was not surprised when Straeford approached her later to comment
caustically that he should have expected as much from her since deceit was second nature to all women.

Instead of defending herself, Marisa bowed her head and asked his pardon. If she had planned it, Marisa could not have scotched
his anger better. Baffled by the sincerity of her apology, he did not pursue the issue any further. Thus a major blowup was
averted.

The party had just divided itself into two groups to play whist. To Marisa’s disappointment, she and the earl were chosen
to play opposite the Relingtons.

“Oh, do let us switch partners,” Amanda Relington cooed. “It’s so much more interesting that way. Don’t you think so?”

“I’d like nothing better than to partner this adorable creature.” Thomas Relington cast a lustful glance at Marisa, who lowered
her long lashes and colored under his scrutiny.

“La, I do believe you have embarrassed the countess, Thomas.” Amanda laughed maliciously. “You must get used to our ways,
my dear. Airs just will not do in the polite world. Will they, Justin?” she trilled spitefully, laying her hand on the earl’s
sleeve.

Straeford ignored her gesture and addressed her husband instead. “I think it best we partner our wives this evening, Relington.”

“If you insist, old man. Can’t blame you for wanting to keep such a little beauty to yourself.” Straeford directed him a dark
quelling look and Relington slunk into his chair.

As the game progressed, Marisa gained confidence because she and his lordship were winning. It was exciting to discover they
were a compatible team judging each other’s moves accurately, and she smiled happily as the earl took the last trick of the
round.

Growing cross with her husband’s ineptitude, Amanda attacked him angrily when they were outbid for the next hand. “Thomas,
you lunkhead! You’ve missed every one of my signals!”

“The luck’s with our hosts, sweetheart,” he appeased, knowing how his wife hated to lose at anything.

Their winning had to do with more than luck, Marisa thought. Amanda Relington was spending too much time eyeing the earl to
be concentrating on the game, while her husband had imbibed too freely of the Straefords’ excellent brandy. Raising her eyes
from the cards, Marisa met her husband’s sardonic gaze. Evidently he shared her opinion. Then he did something quite unexpected
and winked at her. She could not believe it. It was as if some special affinity had just been established between them. The
startling gesture diverted her attention from the game long enough for her to make an error which Amanda capitalized on immediately.
Fortunately Straeford was able to cover his wife’s blunder and regain the advantage so that in the end they were the winners.

Afterward as they began to move away from the table, Thomas Relington stepped in front of Marisa, detaining her. “Do you ride
as well as you play cards, Lady Straeford?”