A Marriage Of Rogues

Lady Theodora, on the other hand, ate like one who had been starving, albeit with good table manners.

Perhaps she hadn’t had much to eat in the past several days, thanks to her father’s gambling losses. Pity, however, was no better a basis for marriage than lust or guilt.

“And now the cake!”

They both turned to see the grinning innkeeper carrying a platter toward them, followed by an equally plump and jolly older woman who must be his wife.

“Can’t be a proper wedding dinner without the cake!” the innkeeper repeated as he set down the platter bearing two slices of what appeared to be fruitcake. Petrified, dried fruitcake.

Dev struggled to keep his expression placid. “Alas, I’m unable to contemplate another morsel after that excellent dinner.”

“Oh, surely you can manage a bite!” the innkeeper’s wife insisted. “Just a wee one.”

Feeling like a minor martyr, Dev picked up the cake and took a bite. Sawdust would have tasted better. He managed to swallow, then immediately reached for his wine.

“Good, eh?” the innkeeper suggested.

“Never tasted anything quite like it,” he replied honestly.

“Now you, my lady,” the innkeeper’s wife prompted.

He must not have been as subtle as he thought, for his bride quickly and emphatically shook her head. “I’m sorry. I fear I really couldn’t eat another bite.”

When both the innkeeper and his wife looked about to insist, Dev rose. “It’s time my wife and I retired,” he said in a way that would brook no protest. “Please call us first thing in the morning. We want to be on our way as soon as possible.”

The innkeeper and his wife looked disappointed, until the wife said, “I’ll wrap a piece up for you to take with you. For your first baby’s christening.”

At the mention of children, Dev glanced at Lady Theodora. Her cheeks had turned a light shade of pink and—somewhat surprisingly—her smile appeared genuine when she said, “Thank you.”

“We’ll call you just after dawn, sir.”

“Good,” Dev said, holding out his hand to his wife.

Theodora ignored the gesture, instead leading the way up the stairs.

Just as well. Her touch had a most disturbing effect upon him and should he require witnesses for an annulment, they could honestly say there was a distinct lack of affection between Sir Develin Dundrake and his bride.

* * *

When they reached the bedroom now lit by candles on the washstand and bedside table, Dev faced Theodora and said, “If you’d rather not share my bed tonight, you need not. I can find accommodation elsewhere.”

Her eyes widened and her hand went to her cheek as if he’d hit her. “You don’t want to make love with me?” she asked in a soft, sad whisper.

He thought she’d be relieved by his offer, yet she was undeniably upset. And surprisingly vulnerable.

Where had that brazen, resolute and bold Lady Theodora gone?

However she looked at him, he had to resist both her appeal and his baser urges. He had to think, not feel, if he was to be master of the situation.

Yet despite his own resolve, Dev simply couldn’t tell her that he’d reconsidered their arrangement and was thinking of annulling the marriage. “I thought you might be too tired. It’s been a long day and we have another journey tomorrow,” he said instead.

“I slept in the carriage and so did you,” she noted, splaying her hands on his chest, her eyes full of longing.

This was the reaction he’d expected before. What had changed? Why was she so different now?

Until you know, it would be better to resist the urges of your body, his mind declared.

Yet she cannot be insincere in her desire, his heart replied. Her eyes aren’t lying. And you know what it is to long for affection. For love.

“I thought you enjoyed the pleasures of the bedroom,” she whispered, winding her arms about his neck. She raised herself on her toes so her lips were less than an inch from his. “Or so I’ve heard.”

“Where did you hear such things?”

“London. You are quite well-known, you know.”

“Gossip. Rumors,” he replied, his breathing quickening, his yearning increasing even as he fought to restrain it.

“Were they lies? Do you not enjoy the pleasures of the bedroom?”

He lost the battle to resist. “I did. I do. I will,” he murmured before he embraced her and captured her mouth in a fiery kiss.

* * *

As Sir Develin held her close and kissed her, Thea’s doubt and dread ebbed away. He wanted her as much as she wanted him. She could sense it, feel it, was certain of it. It was like a thick, soft rope between them, drawing them closer and binding them. She’d been afraid her bashfulness had caused him to reconsider and regretted acting like a naive girl. But he was proving her fears groundless. However he had behaved during the meal, he wasn’t sorry he had married her. She was Sir Develin Dundrake’s bride, and this was their wedding night.

Tonight she would have no fear, no shame, no embarrassment, no restraint. She would be his wife in every way, as he would be her husband.

Still kissing him passionately, she slipped her hands beneath his jacket to feel the muscles of his powerful chest. She remembered the sight of his naked back. The taut flesh. The narrow valley of his spine.

Her need growing, she pulled away. Keeping her gaze on his flushed face and questioning eyes, she reached back to untie the laces of her gown, then wiggled out of her dress that was as ugly as her pelisse until it puddled around her ankles and she stood before him clad only in her chemise and petticoat, stockings and boots. As he continued to watch, she pulled the pins from her hair until it fell loose about her shoulders.

Still he hadn’t moved, so after she set the pins on the washstand, she blew out the candle there and returned to him. Without speaking, she began to remove his clothes, starting with his jacket. He made no effort to help or hinder her while she continued with his shirt, undoing the buttons as far as they went. That wasn’t so easy, because her fingers were trembling, but in the end, she succeeded and pulled it over his head.

Regarding her steadily, he reached for the buttons of his trousers.

She was not, she discovered, quite as prepared for what was to come as she thought.

She hurried to the bed, tugged off her boots and stockings and got beneath the thick coverings before blowing out the candle on the bedside table and plunging the room into darkness.

“Do you still want me to stay?” he asked, his voice low and deep and seductive.

“Yes,” she replied, although she pulled the covers up to her chin.

The bed creaked and the feather bed dipped as he got in beside her.

She waited, breathless and excited, until his lips found hers for a tender, seeking kiss, exactly what a bridegroom’s kiss should be.

She put her arms about him, letting him deepen the kiss and slide his tongue between her lips. His hand grazed her breasts, his thumb flicking ever so gently over the nipple that had grown stiff. The warmth flooding her body increased.