A Lord Rotheby's Holiday Bundle (21 page)

Devil take it. He thought he’d closed
the door so she couldn’t hear.

“
What will happen if I’m
not?” Aurora asked, her eyes boring straight through him. Her lower
lip trembled and it took every last bit of effort he could muster
not to end the conversation then and there by kissing her on that
lovely lip and letting things lead where they may. That would be so
much easier.

He couldn’t tell her. If he told her
the truth, she’d leave him just to spite him. She’d go back to her
father. Even though Quin had the right to drag her back to his side
as her husband, how could he when he knew what a loathsome despot
he was?

He wouldn’t tell her.

“
Rotheby just wants me to
produce an heir. Nothing else.”

The lie rang hollow between
them.

She stared at him, through him, as
though she were trying to see into his very soul. Then the tears
that had been welling in her eyes finally spilled over, crashing
down onto the bodice of her gown and darkening the fabric where
they landed.

She didn’t believe his lie any more
than he did.

~ * ~

Why couldn’t he tell her the blasted
truth? No matter how many times Quin told her that Lord Rotheby
meant nothing by that statement, that the earl merely wanted them
to produce an heir before he died, Aurora knew there was something
more.

And that something more could prove to
be of dire import, now that she knew just how difficult it had been
for her mother to produce any child at all, let alone a male
heir.

What if she couldn’t have a child?
What if she was barren? Could he divorce her for such a thing, or
be granted an annulment? Aurora really ought to have paid more
attention when her governess tried to explain these sorts of things
to her. She’d always been too busy thinking about her next story to
pay attention.

She needed to talk to Rebecca—alone,
without her husband sitting by and listening in, and without the
boring Lord Norcutt (whom she’d promised to stop being so harsh to)
offering his advice where it hadn’t been asked for.

All of that, however, would have to
wait. She and Quin had finished their supper—a quiet affair, with
neither in any hurry to speak to the other—and she’d bathed and
dressed for bed. She fully intended to go to bed alone. In her own
chamber. Far, far away from her deceitful husband.

Well, at least as far away from him as
she could manage, with only the sitting room separating their
chambers.

There
was
that niggling voice in the back
of her mind, telling her that sleeping in her own bed would hardly
work out, since she’d be awake the entire night thinking of all the
delightful and sinful things she could be doing with her
husband.

However, that voice was not speaking
loud enough to be heard over the yelling at the forefront of her
mind, reminding her of what a lying, manipulative nodcock he was,
utterly devoid of any sort of morality or principles.

Her lady’s maid stood at the bed,
turning down the counterpane and situating the pillows.

“
I can manage from here,
Rose. That will do.”

Rose bobbed a curtsy, before turning
on her way.

Setting her candlestick aside, Aurora
climbed into the bed and pulled the bedclothes over herself. She
blew, extinguishing the flame.

The door between her chamber and the
sitting room fairly blew off its hinges. “Just what in God’s name
do you think you’re doing?” her husband asked in a far too menacing
tone. He brandished his own candlestick about, waving it in the
darkness.

“
I’m going to bed. What
are
you
doing?”
The man had better learn that she only had so much patience, and
all of it she’d set aside for the day had already been spent on
their seemingly never-ending parade of guests and well wishers.
There was simply none left to spare for him without a full night’s
sleep.

Quin marched over to stand looming
above her. “Since when do you think you sleep in here?”

“
Oh, perhaps since the
first time I slept in this house,” she replied, her tone filled
with vitriol. “And if you’ll notice, I am polite enough to answer
your questions before asking more of my own—a practice you might
wish to consider adopting in future, my lord. It is, after all,
only polite. Unlike barging into bedchambers without so much as a
knock of warning, let alone a by-your-leave.”

His eyes, almost solid
black in the dim light of a single candle, bore down on her like a
hound chasing a fox. “
My
lord
, is it? Well,
my lady
, you need not address me with
any level of informality. You may do as you please in your own
chamber during the day. But at night, you will see fit to join me
in
our
chamber.”

What nerve! “I’ll not.” Aurora rolled
away to give him her back.

“
You will,” Quin
responded.

She huffed—she actually
huffed—something she never imagined she would do. Certainly not in
response to her husband ordering her to do something that was so
delightful she ought to want to do it, anyway. Perhaps she could
work his insistence on her cooperation in her favor, though. “I
want my journal back.”

“
Fine,” Quin all but
growled. He pulled the counterpane from her and took hold of her
wrist, dragging her behind him.

Of all the dastardly, high-handed
things he could have done, that took the prize. He wasn’t hurting
her—far from it. But try as she might, Aurora could not pry herself
free from his grasp. “Unhand me,” she demanded.

Instead of complying with her command,
however, he spun on his heel to face her so fast she nearly crashed
headlong into his chest. “I have no intention of unhanding
you.”

His gaze had gone from murderous to
ravenous in the minuscule span of seconds. If she didn’t look away
soon from the intensity held there, she might just forget all about
how upset she was with Quin for lying to her.

Oh, dear good Lord. She couldn’t look
away. Now the heat between them was entirely too much to bear and
she felt that liquid pull in her core drawing her ever closer to
him.

“
In fact,” he continued, “I
intend to have my hands all over you in a few moments. More than
just my hands.”

“
So this is how you plan to
do what your grandfather requires? By force?”

He winced and anger flashed in his
eyes again. Or she thought it did. The frisson of emotion was gone
as soon as it came. “I will never force you to do anything. But I
do require you to perform your wifely duties. Which, might I remind
you, only moments ago you agreed to with a compromise. Your
journal.”

“
I agreed to sleep in your
bed, not to be dragged there by force.”
Odious man
. “And I want my journal
now. Please.” She held one hand out with the other on her hip,
waiting.

Quin marched to a bureau and retrieved
the bound pages. “Here. But do not let me hear of its contents ever
again, Aurora. Not from anyone but you.” He tossed them to a table
nearby and then was before her again.

Too close. His heat would burn a hole
in her nightrail within moments. Aurora ought to be furious with
him. But then he was kissing her, and her ability to deny him
anything fled like clear water running through a sieve.

Not good. Not good at all. She should
not just allow herself to melt from a heated look and the kind of
caveman-like behavior she had dreamed about. She should hold firm
to her convictions. She ought to break the kiss, back away. If only
she could free her lips, of course. Because after all, if she
allowed him to lie to her this time with no consequences, only a
day into their marriage, what could she expect for their
future?

But she did nothing, and then it was
too late.

His tongue slipped into her mouth, and
her ability to form rational thoughts slipped out of her
mind.

And Aurora couldn’t care in the
least.

Chapter
Thirteen

5 April, 1811

Oh, dear good Lord.
Marriage is a far more complicated matter than I ever imagined. And
husbands have an entirely unfair advantage in terms of arguments,
in that they are able to incite rabid lust in their wives with a
few simple touches in the appropriate places. God must have truly
wanted to punish Eve for eating the forbidden fruit, to put all
women at such a monstrous disadvantage. Admittedly, the results of
said disadvantage are rather pleasant. But it is highly annoying to
know that arguments will be
that
much
harder to win from now on. And I do
imagine that there will be a good many arguments to come. Life with
Quin is hardly shaping up to be an uncomplicated affair.

~From the journal of Lady
Quinton

Was he cursed to hate himself a little
more each day? Damnation!

Quin’s life had been far less
complicated before he had a blasted wife. Why Rotheby thought
taking one would help him to settle down, he would never
understand. With Aurora trying to involve herself in things that
were none of her concern, Quin only wanted to drink himself into
oblivion.

He couldn’t do that, though. He
oughtn’t to fall back to his old habits, because he’d be sure to
drive her off. God knows he wanted just that, at least on occasion,
but if he lost Aurora, he’d lose everything else, too.

It was bad enough that the
minx had overheard Rotheby’s weighty reminder to fill his nursery.
But for her then to confront him on the matter, like she had any
right to know his business! And then—
then
—to think she could sleep in her
own chamber, just because he had not been entirely truthful with
her? She’d lost her bloody mind, and was well on her way to forcing
him into a similar situation.

No, Aurora would sleep in his bed
every night, and he would take every opportunity he could find to
fulfill his obligation.

But he’d be damned if he was going to
do more with her than just that. There was no reason whatsoever to
let his troublesome little wife get too close. With his luck, as
soon as she did, he’d end up hurting her—losing her. Just like he’d
lost Mercy.

Quin would rather die than feel that
kind of pain again.

So when Jonas called the next morning
and suggested they take a trip to Gentleman Jackson’s, Quin avidly
accepted. A round of boxing or two would do wonders for working out
the aggression that had built up inside him over the last two
days.

Two days! No more.

Within such a short span of time, he
was amazed that she could vex him so thoroughly and
completely.

He couldn’t allow her to continue to
affect him like this. But the more time he spent in her presence,
the more she consumed his every thought. One look into her eyes,
and he was drowning in her sea. One whiff of her hair, and he was
caught in her snare. One touch of her skin, and he could think of
nothing else but burying himself within her velvety womb again and
again.

Granted, that might prove a hastened
end to his means rather than restricting himself to such pursuits
only at night. But however eager and willing Aurora was to learn
once he stoked her fire, she remained incredibly
innocent.

Quin would like to keep her
that way, at least somewhat. He couldn’t sate his lust with her in
the same ways he would a paid whore. She was his
wife
, after all. She
deserved a bit more decency than that.

He would have to keep some
distance between himself and Aurora during the days—nights would be
impossible to avoid, if he intended to impregnate her. Not to
mention he didn’t
want
to avoid her at night. Far from it. But the last thing he
needed to do was become besotted with his wife.

If he did, he’d be doing neither of
them any favors.

~ * ~

“
Thank God you’re alone,”
Aurora said when Rebecca sashayed into the downstairs parlor at
Number Fourteen, the soft pink of her afternoon gown brightening
the room considerably. The appalling grey everywhere would have to
be changed. Perhaps that should be her first order of business as
the new Lady Quinton. “We need to talk, and it is simply impossible
to do that with Lord Norcutt with you. He is such a bore, you know,
only wanting to discuss the weather.”

Rebecca clucked her tongue. “I thought
you agreed not to disparage Lord Norcutt in my presence, Aurora.
And he talks about far more than just the weather. If you would
only listen to him sometime…”

That was about as likely to happen as
Aurora spending an entire week without opening her mouth to speak.
She waved a dismissive hand. “I have no intention of speaking of
him today. There’s something far more important on my
mind.”

“
Such as the details you’re
desperate to tell me about what happens in the marriage bed?”
Rebecca prompted.