The Prince's Bride (7 page)

Lord, she’d had the oddest dreams.

Jocelyn shifted and burrowed more deeply beneath the covers. She’d dreamed she’d been riding on a horse forever and was cold and tired and ... married.

Her eyes snapped open and she stared into the sleeping face of Randall, Lord Beaumont.

She opened her mouth to scream, then clamped her lips shut tight. No. Screaming would only wake him up and she preferred him asleep right now. At least until she gathered her wits about her. Besides, the last time she had screamed, or tried to scream, he had quieted her with a kiss and she didn’t want that to happen again. At least she didn’t think she wanted that to happen again. No, she definitely didn’t want that here and now. Perhaps later ... Oh dear, it was all so confusing.

And it was all too horribly real. It wasn’t a dream even if it could be likened to a nightmare. She groaned to herself. She was Lady Beaumont. Viscountess Beaumont. And the man lying beside her was—she swallowed hard—her husband.

He hadn’t kissed her again, had he? Or done anything else? A barrier of sheets and blankets separated Beaumont’s sleeping form from hers. That was a good sign. Cautiously she lifted up her coverlet and winced. She didn’t remember taking off her clothes but apparently somebody had. She pushed aside the thought of who that somebody might be. At least she still wore her chemise and stockings. Beaumont’s shoulders were bare and he no doubt wore nothing else but the blankets. He struck her as the kind of man who would sleep unclothed.

She couldn’t help but notice that Becky was right. His shoulders were extraordinary. Was the rest of him as nicely put together? He was certainly one of the handsomest men she’d ever met. Had circumstances been different she might well have been interested in him. Of course it scarcely mattered now. Now she was his wife.

She propped her hand under her head and studied him. If it hadn’t have been for Alexei, who did in fact embody her childhood fantasy, she might have been extremely interested in Beaumont. Even if he was only a mere viscount. And apparently not a terribly wealthy viscount at that. Still, the man had an air about him, mysterious and attractive, and was really quite appealing. At least when he was asleep. And he had brought her to a castle. She’d always wanted to live in a castle.

Beaumont’s eyes flickered open and she stared straight into their dark, endless depths. Her stomach fluttered and she realized how close she was to him. How easy it would be to lean forward. To brush her lips...

“Good morning.”

She said the first thing that popped into her head. “Is this your castle?”

“My, you are mercenary.” A wry smile lifted his lips.

She shrugged but had the good grace to blush. “I’m not mercenary, just curious.”

“Well, in that case.” He propped himself up on his elbow. “It will be someday but at the moment, no. The castle is owned by my uncle.”

“And he is?”

“Uncle Nigel. Lord Worthington.” His smile grew. “The Earl of Worthington.”

“Oh.” She thought for a moment. An earl wasn’t bad at all. And an earl’s wife was a countess. “Then you will someday be—”

“Viscount Beaumont, nothing more.” He laughed at the disappointment she tried, and failed, to hide. “I am sorry, my dear, but my uncle is my grandmother’s stepson and in truth no blood relation to me at all. Our ties are no more than those of affection and his title will die with him, though, God willing, not for a very long time. However, Worthington Castle is not entailed and therefore will come to me one day.”

“I see.” That was something at any rate. “You can’t fault me for asking.”

“I can, but I won’t.” He studied her with an air of amusement. “Do you have any other questions?”

“Why are you in my bed?” she blurted.

“Actually you are in my bed.”

“I was here first.” She pulled her brows together. She couldn’t really remember how she’d gotten here at all but she was fairly certain she was first. “Wasn’t I?”

“This is not a territory to be claimed by the first to plant a flag. Regardless of who was in this bed first, this is where I have always slept, and quite well I might add, and I have no intention of sleeping elsewhere.” He met her gaze firmly. “Not now, not ever.”

She gathered the blanket more closely around her. “What exactly do you mean by that?”

“I mean, my dear lady wife, this is my bed and this is where I shall sleep.”

“Then I shall sleep elsewhere as I have no intention of sharing your bed.” She raised her chin defiantly. “Not now, not ever. Surely there is another bedchamber I can occupy?”

“A dozen or so but you’re not going anywhere.” One naked shoulder lifted in a casual shrug. “You are my wife and you shall share my rooms.”

“How barbaric of you.” She sat up and glared down at him. “Civilized couples do not share bedchambers.”

“Beaumonts have never been especially civilized.” He flashed her a wicked grin. “We quite prefer it that way.”

“Then I shall sleep on the floor,” she said loftily.

“As you wish, but I warn you, the floors are made of stone and even at this time of year are extremely cold and damned uncomfortable.”

She heaved an exasperated sigh. “You are determined to make this difficult, aren’t you?”

“Not at all.” The smile remained on his face but his eyes were serious. “I am determined to make this work.”

“You are? Why?”

It was his turn to sigh. “Because, my dear Jocelyn, I checked into the possibilities of annulment or divorce the morning of our wedding, and either takes years to accomplish. Therefore, we are essentially stuck with each other for a very long time.”

It was interesting, though unsurprising, to note he had taken the time to uncover the details of dissolving their marriage. Marianne had also managed to come up with the same information before the wedding. Jocelyn knew full well this marriage was likely to be permanent or, at least, last untold years. Even not consummating their union would not guarantee its dissolution unless, of course, he was unable to do so. Jocelyn didn’t doubt for a moment that Beaumont was very, very able. Still, consummation did not seem like a wise move if she had any hope of escaping this marriage someday. And Marianne had promised to do whatever she could at some indeterminate time in the future.

“But surely, Beaumont—”

“My given name is Randall although I have never been particularly fond of it. Therefore my close friends call me Rand. As should my wife,” he said pointedly.

“Now then, if there is nothing else.” He sat up and swung his legs, his bare legs, over the side of the bed.

“Wait!”

He stopped and raised a brow. The covers had fallen to his waist, revealing a chest that was every bit as impressive as his shoulders. A smattering of dark hair dusted hard planes of muscle and drifted low to disappear beneath the blanket. She’d never seen a man’s chest before but had no doubt this was a magnificent specimen. Perhaps there was something to be said for consummation after all.

“Yes?” he prompted.

Her gaze jerked to his. “I... um ... well, I mean ...”

“Yes?” His gaze slipped from hers to travel downward and at once she realized her blanket too had fallen. She yanked it up to her chin. His gaze met hers and a lazy smile curled his lips. The memory of his mouth on hers washed through her, and once again she wanted to lean forward and—

“Did you have another question?” Amusement and something else lit his eyes. Something more. Something very, very dangerous.

She drew a deep breath. “I want to know if you ... if I... if we ... if last night...”

“Absolutely not.” He shook his head in a slow, solemn manner. “Not last night.”

She blew a long sigh of relief and ignored a vague sense of disappointment. “Oh, well, I just... wondered. The last few days are all rather jumbled in my head and my memory is somewhat fuzzy and I—”

“Of course, we did arrive the night before last.” She widened her eyes and he laughed. “And I, you, we did nothing but sleep.”

He reached out and took her hand and pulled it to his lips. “And I can assure you when I, you,
we
do something other than sleep in this bed...” He brushed his lips across the back of her hand. Heat flashed through her. His gaze simmered and her breath caught. “You will remember it.”

For an endless moment she could do nothing more than stare at him. Stare into his seductive, midnight eyes. And she knew if he wanted her right now, she would be his. Willingly. The realization snapped her back to her senses and she withdrew her hand.

“I daresay we will both remember it,” she said with an air of confidence she didn’t entirely feel.

“Excellent.” He laughed again. “You may well be more intelligent than I had thought.”

“Oh, thank you, my lord. Rand.” She fluttered her eyes at him in an exaggerated manner. “I am so flattered by your reassessment of my character. And what else was there? Ah yes. Am I still as shallow as you originally thought? Still as spoiled, and are my morals still in question?”

“Shallow and spoiled? Let me think.” He crossed his arms over his naked chest and she tried to ignore how his various muscles flexed with the movement. He leaned back against the pillows, considered her question, and grinned. “Probably.”

She burst into laughter and was rewarded by his surprised expression. “You are an honest man, Rand. I will give you that.” She tilted her head and cast him a well-practiced and most flirtatious smile. “And what of my morals?”

“I’m not entirely certain at the moment. And more, not at all sure if I want to be wrong”—a slow smile spread across his face—“or if I very much want to be right.”

She laughed again. Marriage to Lord Beaumont—to Rand—might be rather more enjoyable than she had imagined.

“It’s past time we were both up and about.” He cast her a warning look. “I am going to get out of bed now.”

“As you wish.”

“And I have nothing on,” he said.

“I didn’t think you did.” She smiled sweetly.

He stared in disbelief. “Are you just going to watch me then?”

“Unless you need assistance, but I’m sure you can dress yourself.” She twisted, plumped up the pillow behind her, then settled back. There was something quite delightful about turning the tables on him. “This is, as you have so kindly pointed out, my room as well as yours. And, as I have no intention of rising at the moment, I think I shall indeed simply sit here and think about my marriage and all it entails.”

“Aren’t you even going to turn your head?” Indignation rang in his voice.

It was all she could do to keep from grinning like a lunatic. Teasing Rand was the most fun she’d had in days. And who would have imagined the man would be so modest? Well, it was his turn to be uncomfortable and annoyed.

“I could, I suppose, but I too am curious about my morals. Other than that insignificant incident of meeting with the prince—”

“The insignificant incident that got us into all this.”

“Yes, that’s the one. Aside from that, I’ve never really confronted the question of my morals. So it seems to me this is something of a test.”

“I have no clothes on.” He ground out the words.

“That’s why it’s a test.” She cast him her brightest smile. “Will I look or will I close my eyes?”

“This doesn’t bother me in the least, you know.”

“Well, it isn’t a test of your morals, now, is it? I’ve never been in a situation like this before, whereas I have no doubt endless numbers of women have seen you without clothing.”

“Not endless.” He huffed. “But a considerable number.”

“And were there any, oh what’s the word I’m thinking of...” She paused thoughtfully. “I know. Complaints?”

“None whatsoever.” He glared as if questioning her nerve to so much as suggest such a thing.

“Then I’m confident I shall have none either.” She waved him off. “Do go on. Don’t mind me.”

“I won’t.” He was obviously reluctant to stand up. “My clothes are in the dressing room behind that door.” He nodded toward the near wall. “Your bag is there by the wardrobe. I was up briefly yesterday and stopped the maids from unpacking. I didn’t want them to disturb you.”

“Your thoughtfulness is most appreciated.”

“Yes, well, I am definitely getting up now.” He didn’t move an inch.

“Rand, may I ask you one more question?”

“Of course.” Relief crossed his face at the reprieve.

She widened her eyes in feigned innocence. “Who, precisely, removed my clothes?”

He stared at her for a long moment. Slowly, he smiled with genuine admiration. “Well played, Jocelyn.” He looked like a man who had just discovered the world was not at all as he thought it was. “Very well played.”

He chuckled, and before she could respond he was on his feet, striding across the room. Her face warmed at the sight of his nicely sculpted backside. The rest of him quite fulfilled the promise of his shoulders.

He needn’t have worried about what she might or might not see. Within a few steps he was nothing more than a large flesh-colored blur. Did he know about her sight problem? She couldn’t remember if it had been mentioned or not but surely Thomas had told him. Still, it was of little consequence.