Authors: Alicia Meadowes
“That’s better,” her captor said, both hands on his hips. He walked slowly around her, surveying his spoils. One hand slid
along her shapely form and stopped to cup her sculptured breast. And then the other reached about her tiny waist and drew
her against his rock-hard body. She felt weak, near to fainting, when he lifted her into his arms and carried her to the nearby
bed. Now, with his warm body beside hers, she was alarmed at the strange stirrings welling within her as his powerful hands
stroked the lovely valleys and hollows of her form, boldly, shamelessly.
“Oh, please…” she pleaded, just as he brought his lips down on hers hard and bruising, blocking out her protests. But there
was little she could do to resist his total domination over her and she feared that any serious efforts to do so might trigger
that lightninglike anger
which he had revealed only a few moments earlier. This was not at all what she imagined her first act of love would be like.
He treated her roughly, with only one purpose in mind—his own lust, totally disregarding her feelings. It was all she could
do to keep from crying out as she submitted quietly to her conqueror’s hungry advances.
When he finally took her body for his own, Marisa groaned audibly, and she felt his searing movements halt briefly in response.
It was only later, when his passion had subsided, that the earl realized she had been a virgin. Rising abruptly from the bed,
he left the room without so much as a backward glance.
The devil take her! he thought. A virgin at her age? But how? There had been some talk of a lover. He poured himself a drink
and flung himself into a chair. Why didn’t Lady Maxwell warn him? Well, too late now. No sense trying to second-guess the
whole matter. He just thoroughly, if not too gently, initiated her to the act of love.
A stifled sob came from the adjacent room and Straeford swore out loud. “Damn her! Damn her to hell!” No woman was going to
prod him with pangs of guilt ever again—not as long as he lived. He’d finished with that years ago.
Weary from several sleepless nights before the wedding and then last night’s ordeal, Marisa slept late the next morning. Her
maid had not awakened her until his lordship summoned her in the hallway.
“Tell your mistress I wish to leave for Straeford within the hour!” he commanded sternly, sending Lucy scurrying to Marisa’s
room.
“Oh, do wake up, my lady. His lordship looks to be in a black temper this morning.”
Marisa stirred and winced at the stiffness and soreness she felt. The previous night’s events crept into her consciousness
as she awakened to the sound of Lucy’s words. She sat up with a start, clutching the bedsheet to her bosom.
“What did you say, Lucy?”
“His lordship said he wishes to leave for the Park within the hour.”
“Within the hour! Oh, Lucy, why didn’t you wake me sooner? Forget the hot chocolate and hand me that peignoir. Is my bath
drawn? I must hurry!”
Slipping into her robe, Marisa noticed the torn night dress on the floor exactly where the earl had dropped it the night before.
“Here, my lady, let me take thatt.” Lucy stooped to pick it up and bustled about her chores, but Marisa stood there locked
deeply in thought. He’d done his worst to her last night, so what more need she fear? If last night’s episode were a prelude
of things to come in this marital arrangement, well, then she might never be able to breathe another easy breath the rest
of her wedded life.
“My lady,” Lucy interrupted her thoughts. “Are you all right?”
“Yes, Lucy!” she said resolutely. “I most decidedly am all right this morning. And do you know what I’m thinking? I’m thinking
that I will have that hot chocolate after all.”
“What? But, my lady, his lordship…”
“His lordship will wait, thank you,” Marisa said pointedly as she eased herself into her chaise longue and folded her arms
triumphantly.
When Straeford reread the note his wife had sent him through Lucy, he was wild with rage. She could not be ready within the
hour as he had wished, the note informed him. Crumpling the paper in his hand, the earl hurled a curse in the air. Apparently
this woman did not understand him, but he’d soon remedy that!
Straeford startled Jenkins by storming past him in the center hall and taking two stairs at a time. Without a knock he flung
open the bedroom door at the exact instant Marisa was rising from her bath. Lucy quickly drew a towel about her mistress while
the earl stood there, glowering.
“Wait outside!” he snapped at Lucy, who bobbed a curtsey and fled with haste.
Marisa tightened her hold on the towel and braced herself as he drew near.
“What is the meaning of this?” he growled, crossing in front of her and tapping the wrinkled note in his hand.
Marisa walked slowly to her vanity and seated herself calmly before replying, “I thought it plain enough, my lord.”
“Did you, indeed?” he sneered. “Well, hear this, madam wife. You have exactly fifteen minutes to ready yourself.”
Marisa surprised even herself at how composed she remained in the face of his anger this morning. “Fifteen minutes! Impossible!
I’ll never be able to…” But the earl cut her off immediately, his tough fingers grasping her chin with a stinging grip. “Then
I shall leave without you and you may make your own way to the Park. Do you understand?”
Marisa lowered her eyes and nodded.
“I shall expect to see you at the allotted time.” Without another word, he whirled on his heels and strode out of the room.
A full twenty minutes had passed when Straeford entered the center hall, fully expecting to see his wife cowering there. A
scowl creased his face as he looked up the stairs and listened for some sign of her descent. A minute passed, then two more.
Fuming inside, he paced back and forth impatiently in the hallway. Finally, when an additional ten minutes had gone by, he
stamped his heel in anger and marched out of the house. With a violent oath, he leaped onto his horse and galloped away.
A full hour following the earl’s angry departure, Lady Straeford finally appeared to enter her coach and make her journey
to the Park by herself. There was no other choice but to follow the temperamental man she had wedded only twenty-four hours
before. Her arrival there would probably end in another personal humiliation, possibly a public one, too, if the
ton
were ever to discover that he had left his wife before their marriage had even begun. But what alternatives did she have?
By the time the coach reached the entrance to Straeford Park, Marisa could feel her earlier confidence rapidly leaving her.
As the wheels inched slowly toward the manor house and the coach came to a stop, she anticipated the earl’s reception and
prayed for her courage to return. The doors to the house swung open, and she hoped that her prayers would be answered.
It was Manners who greeted her at the door to Straeford and Marisa was thankful for that. His hearty welcome helped alleviate
the tension that had been building up during the interminable ride to Straeford Park, and when she entered the entrance hall
that was now brightly lighted and airy in contrast to its former gloomy atmosphere, it was as though she had forgotten the
many improvements she had made to the manor house and was now seeing it for the first time.
Marisa looked with pride at the results of her painstaking efforts. A sparkling gilt chandelier reflected on the gleaming
slate floor and highly polished oak paneling. A basket of carefully arranged flowers was set on a new center table constructed
of Carrara marble, and the aged portraits were now replaced by a series of lighthearted drawings. Her many hours of planning
had done much to inject vitality into the house and recapture much of its original flavor.
“So good to see the house once again,” Marisa smiled as Manners helped her remove her redingote. “Tell me, is his lordship
about?”
“Yes, my lady. I believe he is in the library. Shall I announce you?”
“N-… no… I’m quite fatigued from the trip. I believe I shall retire until supper. I won’t disturb him until then.”
Clearly the earl had no wish to see her any more than she cared to see him at that moment. He had not come into the hallway
to greet her, and surely he had heard the carriage arrive. Was this war of nerves going to continue?
Marisa went directly to the white chamber, a room that was part of the master suite. Upon opening its door, her eyes danced
with delight as they reviewed the wallpaper, the canopied bed, the brocaded draperies, all of which had been scrupulously
selected to create a pink and fawn motif in a white background. A rich Persian carpet coordinated perfectly with the basic
pastel shades of the room, and the Hepplewhite furnishings completed the total effect of warmth and elegance.
Pleased with what she had accomplished in such a short period of time, Marisa wondered if the earl would be appreciative of
her efforts. She tried not to think of the confrontation the two of them would eventually have. Muttering to herself in order
to allay her fears, she curled up for a restful nap wishing that all her problems would somehow just disappear. But instead
of sleeping, she found her thoughts going back again and again to the problem of what she would say to him when they finally
met. How did she get here in the first place? It all seemed like a bad dream, she thought, as she stared absentmindedly out
her bedroom window while shadows appeared, slowly elongated, and then cloaked the room in dusky silence.
When Lucy came in to dress her for supper, Marisa felt relieved since she had convinced herself that the anticipation of adversities
was, perhaps, far worse than the realities she would have to face. Besides, there was no good reason for her to be fearful
toward her husband. After all, what had she done? And if she acted timidly toward his threats and his rantings—well, she knew
he would think even less of her. This marriage would have to be built on the basis of mutual respect or it
would be a hopeless farce. Whatever the outcome, she vowed that she would, at the very least, carry herself with dignity and
self-respect through it all.
To bolster her confidence, Marisa decided to dress herself with as much style as she could muster. She had learned a long
time ago from her mother that the anger of most men was often a result of a woman’s charm and grace. A graceful Empire dress
of pink shot-silk seemed the perfect selection for the occasion. Its close-fitting sleeves and slim skirt edged with a delicate
embroidery gave her a sense of refinement and self-assurance. In front of her mirror, she looked approvingly at its fit and
toyed briefly with the Grecian ringlets and curls which Lucy had carefully fashioned. A simple silver chain around her neck
matched her earrings and now she was ready, hoping that it was all worth the effort.
When she reached the last step of the staircase, the earl suddenly appeared and, to her surprise, merely harrumphed an unintelligible
greeting in her direction. Perhaps he was going to be civil after all? Nattily attired in a forest green cutaway, matching
vest and white pantaloons, he looked every bit the aristocrat he was, and Marisa could not help admiring his imperial figure.
Unexpectedly, he escorted her to the dining room where once again Marisa’s decorative work was everywhere to be seen. When
he had last viewed this room, it was gray and unattractive, but now it assumed the same style and color scheme as the drawing
room. Each chamber displayed rich blue velvet draperies which swept dramatically to one side and were held in position by
a leaf of gold. The overhanging cornices were intricately designed structures that resembled a royal crown, and clusters of
delicate golden petals flecked the cream-colored wallpaper that had been chosen for the background.
The effect was striking, and Marisa could feel instinctively that he was impressed. But the earl said nothing at all as the
two of them ate in silence under the watchful eye of Manners and the newly hired maid. It was only after dessert had been
placed before them and both servants had disappeared that Straeford decided to speak. He found himself on the horns of a dilemma.
Ever since he returned to the Park, he had been taken aback
by the extraordinary transformations his new bride had accomplished. He was grateful for that, but he did not know how to
approach her at this juncture, since he had every intention of raking her down good and proper for her earlier defiance. Manners
had added to Straeford’s perplexity by heaping lavish praise on his wife and pointing to minuscule improvement she had made
when the earl completed his first tour of his ancestral residence. As if that were not enough, Bess also took up the cudgel
on her behalf when he visited the completely remodeled kitchen. The relief and gratitude he felt at seeing Straeford Park
restored to this degree continued to war with his rage at her defiance of him.
The earl drummed his fingers impatiently on the long rosewood table as he watched Marisa linger over her dessert, seemingly
oblivious to his presence. Had he known the deep inner anxiety she was experiencing at that moment, he might not have given
in to his mounting sense of frustration so easily. But he felt he could no longer continue with this game of silence.
“Well, madam,” he said with resignation. “I suppose you win this round.”
“I… I win?” She was totally mystified by his remark.
“Yes. I am telling you that I intend to overlook your act of defiance earlier today.”
“But, my lord, it was not defiance that caused me to be so late this morning. It was simply impossible for me to get ready
in the brief amount of time you…”
“Enough!” he cut in. “Regardless, and above all else, I expect to be obeyed in all things, madam. All things!”
A brief moment of silence followed his angry command but Marisa thought it wise not to say anything at that point.
“Nevertheless,” his tone was much quieter now, “I prefer to overlook this morning… for I believe that you deserve some measure
of gratitude for what you have done here at Straeford Park. The work of restoration has been accomplished with, I must say,
extraordinary good taste.” He came to his feet and nodded politely in her direction. “I think you should know that it’s far
beyond
my expectations and I offer my sincere congratulations.”