The Reluctant Countess (25 page)

Sophie nodded, yet remained silent, absorbing his words.

“In our world, people marry for titles and heirs, but very few marry for love and companionship. Patrick would settle for nothing less,” Stephen added.

“I understand, Stephen,” Sophie said, reaching up to pat his cheek. “And thank you for talking with me,” she added.

“Take care of him, Sophie,” Stephen said solemnly as they walked into the church.

“I will, he will be safe with me,” she vowed. “And I would be honored if you would count me as one of your friends also.”

And it was at that moment and for the first time in his life, that Stephen felt jealous of his friend. Looking down at the beautiful woman on his arm, he knew she meant every word she had said. Patrick would be in safe hands. Taking the stairs, they walked into the church.

Patrick felt a sharp pain in the region of his heart as Sophie approached on Stephen’s arm. Her beauty held everyone still as she walked, but to him it was more than that. Sophie had an innocence, she was not jaded by society, and that is what drew him to her. Stephen bent to whisper something in her ear and she offered Stephen a sweet smile, which lit up her eyes and showed Patrick her dimples, and his own lips instantly widened in response. When she reached his side, Stephen placed Sophie’s hand in his and Patrick felt the small tremors through her glove.

“Trust me, Sophie.”

She looked at him then, her green eyes searching his as he cupped her cheek.

“I would ask you to trust me also, my lord,” Sophie whispered, then she turned her head and placed a gentle kiss on his hand.

Such a small gesture, yet Patrick felt that kiss burn its way through his body, igniting every inch as it passed.

“I do trust you, my sweet,” he whispered.

“Hmmm, if you are ready, my lord, we shall proceed,” the minister said.

The service was a blur to Sophie. She gripped Patrick’s hand and would not let go.

“I now pronounce you man and wife; you may kiss the bride.”

“Hello, wife,” Patrick said as he turned Sophie to face him. She tried to smile, managing only to tilt one side of her lips.

“Hello, husband.”

He kissed her, pulling her into his body and releasing her only as the first of the well-wishers approached them.

“Come, sweetheart, let us accept our congratulations,” Patrick said, then led Sophie from the church and out into the sunshine.

After a brief wedding breakfast, they were to travel to his estate in Sussex for their honeymoon. Timmy would follow five days later with Letty. They, too, were to leave London straightaway, but would be stopping to visit with Lady Horsham, a friend of Letty’s, before journeying on to Sussex.

Sophie had argued that she did not want to leave Timmy behind after what had happened, but Letty had been adamant. Lady Horsham would help and they had the staff and, of course, Mary, Timmy’s nanny, to ensure his safety, plus Robbie and the two men the Earl of Coulter had sent to protect them.

“He will be protected, Sophie, and you must get to know your husband before Timmy comes to live with you,” Letty had said, and so she had relented.

Patrick left her alone until they reached the outskirts of London. After handing her into the carriage, he had placed a quick kiss on her lips, then sat on the opposite seat and watched her.

At least she had color in her cheeks now, Patrick thought as she smoothed her skirts over her thighs, which she had done repeatedly since the journey began. She looked at her gloves; frowning, she studied the tip of one finger and slowly pulled them off one finger at a time. Patrick shifted slightly as the unconscious gesture made his body start to heat. Placing them beside her, she looked at him. He smiled, she smiled, and then she looked away. She had something on her mind and Patrick knew she would talk to him when she was ready.

He marveled again at her birth. How had a woman born to a life of poverty become the lady she was today? His wife, Patrick thought with a deep satisfaction that he felt all the way to his toes. It wasn’t only love, he assured himself, but it was a need to hold Sophie, to protect her. Make her laugh and maybe, just maybe, let her into his life a little, and share more of who he really was with her.

“Patrick?”

“Yes, sweetheart,” Patrick said, meeting her eyes.

“Patrick …,” Sophie said again, taking a deep breath, “I was not born to this life, as you know, but …”

“Sophie.”

“I need to say these things to you. Please, Patrick, let me speak,” Sophie said, and she was rewarded with a nod of his dark head.

Looking away she chose her words; it was so much easier when she wasn’t looking at him. He was such a handsome devil and Sophie often felt tongue-tied just looking at him, and when he smiled at her, well, she was lost.

“I did not expect to become anyone’s wife and most especially not an earl’s …”

Patrick smiled as the frown appeared again between her brows.

“Well, not a
live
earl. That is … er … I mean. Oh dear, that made me sound heartless,” Sophie whispered, placing a hand over her lips to stop any further outpouring of words.

“There is no need for this, Sophie,” Patrick said, moving to the seat beside her.

“I will try to be the best wife I can, Patrick,” she rushed on as if he had not spoken. “I will try not to embarrass you and run your house … oh lord, Patrick, how will I run your house when I have not learned how to do so?”

The look she gave him was despairing, so he lifted her into his arms and resettled her onto his lap.

“I have a competent staff that has run my estates for many years unaided, Sophie. Yes, they will talk with you, but will not expect anything from you until you are ready,” he said into her hair. It smelled like a meadow and felt like silk against his skin.

Sophie did not fight him; instead she rested against his chest, enjoying the steady rhythm of his breathing under her cheek.

“Together we will face every challenge, love, and you must always come to me if you have a problem,” Patrick said, kissing the lobe of her ear.

“But, Patrick, I …”

Patrick sealed her mouth with his lips. and he kissed her until she was limp in his arms, and only then did he stop, because the next time he made love to his wife it would be in a bed.

“Rest now, love,” he said, tucking her head under his chin.

And Sophie did sleep. The heat from his body helped her relax and the stresses of the past few days had taken their toll.

Patrick felt her body ease into slumber. He shifted slightly, propping his legs on the opposite seat to get more comfortable, and then he looked at her. Studied the gentle sweep of her lashes where they lay on her cheeks. He smoothed the dark smudges under her eyes with his fingers and felt a small tug of guilt that he had in some part been responsible for them. Sophie sighed softly, her warm breath brushing his hand as she snuggled closer to him. Pulling a blanket from beneath the seat, he covered them both. Patrick thought that he would be more than happy to stay here holding Sophie for the rest of his life. He looked down at her again. She was his now, and he knew that he would protect her with his life. Closing his eyes, he leaned back and soon he, too, was asleep.

* * *

“Plentiful, did you say?” Sophie said, as the carriage swept into a long driveway. “Why did your ancestors call your family home Plentiful?”

Patrick laughed at Sophie’s stunned expression. They had stopped only to rest, change horses, and have a meal, then continued their journey so they could reach his home as soon as possible. For most of the drive, Sophie had been in his arms, leaning against him as they talked about small, inconsequential things, and Patrick, who had never been overly close with any woman before Sophie, enjoyed the experience. It was both torture and pleasure holding her this close. He wanted her with a fierceness that stunned even him; just the smell of her perfume sent lust rampaging through his body, but he also realized that she was starting to trust him, and he would do nothing to hinder that.

“It is quite simple,” Patrick said tugging one of her curls. “There is a plentiful supply of everything you will need here.”

She stared at him, her eyes studying his to see if he was laughing at her. “Oh” was all she said, her mouth forming a perfect round. “I wish I could see it,” Sophie added, looking out the window into the darkness for the fifth time in as many minutes, her backside facing Patrick.

“And you will, my sweet,” Patrick said, admiring her bottom, “in the morning.”

The carriage slowed and then stopped. Patrick climbed down and reached up to help Sophie. Lights blazed from the house as he walked her to the door.

“It is very big,” she whispered, looking at the huge pale stone façade. “It must be two stories high.”

“Three,” Patrick answered.

“My lord!”

“Ribble,” Patrick said, as the door suddenly opened before them.

Patrick’s butler looked exactly like every butler ought to, Sophie thought. He was tall, his shoulders straight, his hair shot with silver, and his uniform immaculate.

“Ribble, I would like you to meet my wife,” Patrick said, pulling Sophie inside the house and then in front of him.

“Hello, Ribble.” Sophie almost wanted to sink into a curtsy but stopped herself just in time. Patrick’s chuckle told her he knew her thoughts.

“My lady, please allow me to welcome you on behalf of the staff. I am afraid most have retired for the evening.”

“Thank you, Ribble.” Sophie stepped backward onto Patrick’s foot, which caused him to groan loudly.

“I’m sorry!” Sophie said, turning to face her husband. Rolling her eyes at the teasing look in his, she turned once again to face the butler.

“Your rooms are ready, my lord,” Ribble said, leading the way to a set of wide stairs.

Everything was opulent and grand, Sophie thought. The wooden banister gleamed, the floors were waxed and scattered with large, intricately patterned rugs, and flowers stood in vases nearly as tall as she. It was all very beautiful and very imposing.

Patrick watched her take in the grandeur of Plentiful. To him, it was just the house that had been both haven and prison to him growing up. He took its splendor for granted, but seeing it through Sophie’s eyes made him happy. She looked like a child, her eyes growing bigger with every new sight.

“You have a beautiful home, Patrick,” she whispered as they turned at the landing to climb another set of stairs.

“So do you, Countess,” Patrick said, placing an arm around her waist.

She turned pink at the thought that this was now all hers as well. Windows ran along the length of the hall as they walked to their suites. Sophie imagined rolling hills and gardens as far as the eye could see, and she could not wait to explore.

“I have taken the liberty of placing some champagne in your rooms, my lord, and a light repast,” Ribble said, holding the door wide for Sophie to enter. Patrick followed.

“Your maid has arrived, my lady.”

“Thank you, Ribble.” Patrick closed the door behind him.

“Patrick?” Sophie turned toward him as he followed her deeper into the room.

“Yes, Sophie.”

“Where are my rooms?” she said, looking everywhere but at him.

“These are your rooms, love,” Patrick answered, moving to open a door toward the end of the room. “And these are mine,” he indicated with a sweep of his hand.

“Oh,” was all she said as she continued to study her room. Everything was toned in the palest blue and lemon; it was quite simply the most beautiful room Sophie had ever seen. It was so huge that her parents’ home would have fit inside. The bed was piled high with pillows of silk and lace, the cover was of an intricate design that made Sophie’s fingers twitch to stroke it. Above, a gossamer canopy hung from four turned wooden posts. She walked behind the screen to find the dressing room and a long table with high mirrors and shelves filled with her clothes. How had they gotten there? Sophie wondered.

“I will see you soon, sweetheart,” Patrick said from behind her, and then disappeared through the door.

“Lady Carstairs sent your clothes on ahead, my Lady,” Jenny said, emerging through yet another door.

“What is in there, Jenny?” Sophie asked, as she walked through the door.

“Dear lord!” Sophie gasped as she stared at the huge bath. Surely it was big enough for two people.

“It is quite something, my lady, is it not?” Jenny said, coming to stand beside her mistress. “I have it all ready for you,” Jenny added, helping Sophie undress. “I have poured in some of the rose oil that Lady Carstairs packed for you.”

Sophie let Jenny’s chatter flow over her as she undressed and stepped into the warmth. It was blissful to let the water enfold her. This was her wedding night; tonight she would lie with Patrick as his wife. Would he want her to stay with him through the night? No, of course not, Sophie answered herself. Noblemen did not want to wake up with their wives, hadn’t Letty told her this? It was all very confusing, because her mother hadn’t lived this sort of life. Her education was very limited and she only had the bits of information Letty had given her, and she hadn’t touched on bedroom etiquette.

Climbing out of the bath, she let Jenny dry her off.

“Lady Carstairs wanted me to give you this tonight,” Jenny said holding out her hands.

It was a wisp of satin in the softest emerald. The straps were two slender strips, the bodice plunged into a low V, and each satin cup would clearly outline her breasts. The skirts fell to the floor, but a split ran up one leg from ankle to thigh. Sophie held it against her with trembling fingers. She could almost feel the heat from Patrick’s eyes as he would look at her once she was wearing it.

Jenny took it from her, and slipped it over her head. Sophie almost sighed as the soft fabric touched her heated skin. Picking up one of Sophie’s brushes Jenny then ran it through her hair until it crackled.

“I will say good night now, my lady,” the maid said with a knowing smile, and then she was gone.

Sophie noted that the door to Patrick’s room was slightly ajar. Slowly, she walked forward, and with each step the material caressed her body; her breasts felt fuller, nipples erect as the satin brushed against them. She listened at the threshold but could hear no voices. Taking a deep breath she opened it wider to walk through.