The Offer (26 page)

She hurt deep inside. He kept moving, kissing her mouth, her breasts, fondling every part of her he could reach. She was skinny. Why would he want to do that?

When he moaned his release, she braced herself for the torrent of stiffening muscles, the tightening of his body against hers, the wet of him inside her. Finally it was over.

“I will sleep now, Sabrina. I'm sorry.”

“Sorry about what?”

He laughed. “I swear to you that I'll teach you soon enough. You're just not ready yet to be a woman, but you will.”

His light snoring was real this time. Slowly she pulled away from him and rose. She washed herself in the basin of water on the bedside table. In the dim light of the single candle, she saw that there was blood and his seed on the cloth.

This was what everyone had believed she'd done. It was amazing. She rinsed out the cloth as best she could, then climbed back into bed beside her husband. She leaned up and blew out the candle.

She fell asleep with the pounding of his heart beneath her hand and the sound of his snoring in her ear.

Dawn light softened the blackness when she felt him again inside her, moving slowly, deeply. She hurt, but he was her husband. She loved him and if he wanted to do this a dozen times to her, then she'd not argue. Well, maybe she'd say something about it on the eighth time, but not yet. He was only to three. She could still bear it. She kissed him back, taking his moans into her mouth, and stroking her hands over his back. It wasn't long before she felt the stiffening in him, heard the sharp intake of breath, then his yell of release.

Yet again he was instantly asleep. Yet again she was washing herself in the basin, wondering what woman would ever agree to do this unless she was married and had to. Or unless she loved a man and wanted desperately to please him.

Sabrina supposed she fell into both categories.

At least now he was hers. She would let him do this whenever he wished to. He wouldn't have the time or the energy to go back to Martine. She fell asleep wondering if men wanted to do this during the day. If so, she would have to be close to him so he could use her whenever he wanted to. She thought of him touching her down there, kissing her down there. She shuddered with embarrassment. What if he wanted to do that during the day, when he could see her?

“My secretary, Paul Blackador, has many times told me that the devil was in the details. What do you think, Sabrina?”

“I don't know what that means.” It was a bright winter morning, sun flooding into the breakfast room. He was smiling and eating and talking nonsense. Sabrina was tired and very sore, but she loved him, curse him for not asking her how she felt. He'd been the one to hurt her yet now all he could talk about was the devil and his damned details.

Couldn't he at least tell her that he was just a bit fond of her?

“It means that if a man isn't careful, it's the little things, the details, that will rise up and bite him. Do him in.”

“I still don't know in what direction your mind is going.”

“It's really very simple. I don't want you to love me, Sabrina.” He was chewing a piece of bacon as he said that. She wasn't worth enough for him to even stop eating for a moment.

“I really can't help it.”

“You said last night you realized it at Moreland when you woke up and I was sitting there watching you. I'm sorry for it. Don't get me wrong. I'm fond of you, very fond, but things won't change.” He
thought of his hands on her soft flesh. She'd felt to him like no other woman had in his life. And being inside her, the smallness of her, the tightening of her muscles, no, he wouldn't think about that. It was just sex. He looked at her. He realized he wanted to touch all of her, all at the same time, right now. He closed his eyes a moment.

“What things?”

He merely shrugged. “I enjoyed last night. Thank you for coming to me. I hope you're not too sore this morning?” He remembered how difficult it was to come into her. She'd been so small, her flesh so resistant to him, all his fault, of course. He should have taken more time, been more patient. Damn the surfeit of brandy and his own lust.

“Yes, I am. I had no idea that men did those sorts of things so much.”

His eyes nearly crossed. Actually, he wanted to toss his breakfast plate to the floor, pull her up against him, and lay her onto her back on the table. He wanted to push her this morning, push her to pleasure, teach her. He wanted to hear her yell, and not in pain.

But he wasn't about to accept this girl's love offering. “Men like to do all sorts of things. Women do too.”

She said absolutely nothing.

“You'll believe me soon enough. Now, get rid of this little girl's infatuation. That's all it is, you know. I'm your hero and thus you feel that you must love me. It's the stuff of novels, Sabrina, not real life.” He tossed down his napkin and rose.

He stopped beside her chair, leaned down, and lightly kissed her mouth. “You're lovely, Sabrina. I very much enjoyed you last night; well, at least a bit since I'm a man and can enjoy a woman even if she's as still as a fallen tree. That will change, I promise
you. Yes, you and I will do very well together, each in our own way.” Then he was gone from the breakfast room, whistling.

She threw her plate at the closed door.

Phillip heard that plate. He paused a moment, then shook his head. No, let her hurl plates if it helped her realize what was real and what wasn't. He would bring her to pleasure and that would improve her opinion of him. A woman always liked a man who brought her to pleasure, always was more ready to excuse him, always was more ready to forgive him. He began whistling again, out the door and onto Tasha's back for a gallop on Heathrow common.

 

“Is her ladyship about, Greybar?”

It was late afternoon. Phillip had enjoyed a full day and was ready to see the slip of a girl who was his wife, the slip of a girl he'd teach pleasure to this very evening. Then he frowned. Perhaps that would be spoiling her. Perhaps he should be gone this evening. He didn't want her to think he was some sort of panting dog to sit at her feet.

“I believe her ladyship is with Mr. Blackador, my lord, planning the menu for the dinner party.”

“Well hell, I'd forgotten all about that.”

“It would be wise for you to refresh your brain, my lord. It's three evenings from now. If you don't mind my saying so, her ladyship is one who knows just how things should be done. Mr. Blackador has already sent out the invitations. Don't you recall? You scrutinized the list yourself yesterday.”

“Oh yes, I did. This party will be just the thing to make her ladyship shine.” He rubbed his hands together. “Ah, yes, Greybar, trust me to ensure that she's smiling, quite a lot.”

Greybar looked as if he'd swallow his teeth. He
knew, of course, that the bride was no longer a virgin, the maid having informed Mrs. Hawley of the blood in the basin, and Mrs. Hawley having duly informed him, over tea in her rooms, as was proper. His lordship was being fatuous. Greybar, not for the first time in the past week, wanted to hit his master. Instead, he stared fixedly at the wainscoting.

“I've decided I want her in the bedchamber adjoining mine. It will be much easier that way. Do have the carpenter and all those folk to help select furnishings and wallpaper come and talk to me. Or rather, perhaps it would be better for them to see her ladyship. Yes, there's no reason why she couldn't see to this. She's young but I don't think she's particularly incompetent.”

“My lord, she's your wife.”

“She certainly is now,” Phillip said, and went off to find his wife.

He found both Sabrina and Paul Blackador in the library, Paul sitting near her, a tablet on his lap and a pen in his hand.

“Hello, Paul, Sabrina,” he said easily as he strolled into the room. “I see the two of you are planning our orgy. Is everything all right?” Even as he spoke, Phillip saw that even though Sabrina was wearing a very pretty pale yellow gown that did incredibly wonderful things to that glorious auburn hair of hers, her face was pale and there were dark smudges under her violet eyes. Damn, he shouldn't have indulged himself with her so much the previous night. Three times was excessive, particularly for a new wife and a virgin. But he'd wanted her, very much and she'd given herself to him. She'd told him she loved him, had loved him since that long-ago evening at Moreland. It was nonsense.

Her voice sounded equal parts anger and defeat,
surely an odd combination. “Good afternoon, my lord. It's such a pleasure to see you again. One would hardly imagine that this is your home, given the small number of hours you spend here, but whose business is that?”

“Certainly not yours, madam,” he said, then softened it because Paul was there, and he looked so nervous he just might faint. “I see you're working on our party.”

“Yes, we're planning the menu. Paul has excellent advice.”

Paul Blackador had seldom ever given Phillip advice. He usually just nodded and kept his head down. Was she making fun of his secretary? Phillip looked at Paul, whose pleasant, sensitive face was undergoing a series of contortions. “Shall we discuss this over tea, Sabrina?”

“I'm not thirsty, my lord. There is a lot still to be done. Paul and I are quite busy, as you can surely see.”

“Then you will eat some of Cook's lemon cakes. Come, Sabrina. I won't ask you again.”

She wanted to tell him to hie himself to the devil along with all the details, but she saw that Paul was in agony. “Very well, my lord. Paul, can you carry on without me?”

“Certainly. I have many other matters to attend to, my lady.” He looked first at his master, then at his mistress, who had two spots of color high on her cheekbones. Then he dropped his tablet. Phillip arched an eyebrow. He could have sworn he heard his very mild-tempered secretary curse. He had to grin, but he did manage to keep his mouth shut.

When she was pouring him tea, strong and dark, as he liked it, he said, “I hope you're still not angry with
me about my misplaced gallantry regarding your inheritance.”

“No,” she said as she handed him the teacup. “I've decided I want it all. I want to be financially independent. I don't want to be pulled about on your string. Thank you for offering it back to me. I accept. If you would like to reconsider giving me back my dowry, why I'll take that too, gladly.”

“No, not the dowry. You may have the other. That's fine. It's what I wanted.” He frowned at her. He didn't like the way she'd changed her mind. The manner of it wasn't particularly as he would envision it should be, and it was obvious to even a blockhead that she was goading him, her sarcasm slamming him right between the eyes. Of course she didn't need to be financially independent. It was the grand gesture, merely an affirmation of his beneficence. She was his wife. Did she believe he'd throw her in a ditch and let her starve?

“Is there anything else I've done to offend you? After all, in the short time I've known you, you've pointed out a large number of flaws in my character. Do you wish to continue pointing now?”

“No, I have no more for the moment. I trust you enjoyed yourself all day today wherever you went, whatever you did, and with whomever you did it.”

“Yes, thank you.” He sipped his tea. It was China black tea, his favorite. “Now, tell me about the arrangements for your first dinner party.”

“
My
dinner party? Aren't you going to attend? Oh, I see, you have more important activities planned for that evening. Perhaps you're escorting Martine to Vauxhall?”

“Eat a lemon cake.”

“I'm not hungry.”

“You're supposed to be flourishing now that you're safe with me.”

“Flourishing?”

“Yes, in the manner of a beautiful tight flower bud gradually opening to the brilliant sunlight.”

“That's ridiculous. You're ridiculous.”

“Well, yes, but at least you're smiling a bit now. Now, tell me what you've planned so I can either approve or disapprove of your schemes. No, don't throw anything at me. Yes, just sit there and eat something. If you must, throw the cup at me, at least it's nearly empty.”

She set the cup in its saucer. She folded her hands in her lap and looked down at the yellow toes of her slippers. “I never threw anything in my life before I met you.”

“Perhaps you've just never suffered from excess bile before.”

“I will try to control my bile.”

“Good. Now tell me what you've planned.” Phillip handed her a cake and gave himself one. She began nibbling on it. He was pleased. It was a start. “What delights have you in store for me?”

She thought of the kind of delights that he obviously preferred and grew so angry she bit her cheek.

She had a sudden memory of him bending over her, his face calm, as he touched his palm to her forehead. “Thank you for saving my life.”

“Where the devil did that come from?” He didn't like that. He preferred a plate tossed at his head. Well, not really, but he didn't want her to go on believing she loved him. He'd be delighted to settle for something in the middle.

“I don't know. It was just a fleeting memory. You were there a lot in my mind, perhaps when I wasn't even fully conscious.”

“I'd never bathed a woman before or washed her hair. I would like to do that again.”

“To me or to your mistress?” The instant the words had spurted from her mouth, she was horrified. She'd meant to keep it to herself, at least most of it, most of the time. The words hung between them.

However, Phillip didn't say anything. He took another sip of his tea and appeared to study the Aubusson carpet beneath his boots.

Finally, he said mildly, “The schemes, Sabrina? For the dinner party?”

She told him what she was planning. When she paused, he said, “Impressive, Sabrina. Perhaps it's not at all a bad thing to have one's wife bred in the wilds of Yorkshire. Allow me to select the wines, and I vow we will have to drag our guests from the dinner table.”

Sabrina turned pink with his praise. It was infuriating, but she couldn't help it. She was too easily pleased, she thought, but couldn't help herself. She didn't mind at all that he was changing her wines. She was smiling slightly as she said, “I had Paul commission the Huxley group for the dancing. I do so love to waltz, and Greybar told me that they have quite a fine way with the music. A lot of enthusiasm and energy. Greybar said they were even more lively than the group that played for our wedding.”

Phillip cocked an eyebrow. “Dancing? I'd thought this would only be a dinner party.”

“I know that it would cost quite dearly, but since I'm now financially independent, I shall pay for the orchestra myself.”

She was so defensive with him. He didn't even raise an eyebrow again, just said easily, “That's fine. Do so, with my compliments at your show of independence. You pay for the entertainment and I'm the one who benefits. I enjoy waltzing with you.”

“And I with you,” she said, although she didn't want to. But when she wasn't infuriated with him, she remembered that she did love him, despite his belief that she was a little girl and this was naught but infatuation. The fool.

“If you ever find yourself short in the pocket or purse and in need of a loan, please feel free to approach me. I'm a generous man. I'd be more generous if I didn't feel you would dislike it so much.”