The Flame and the Flower (14 page)

As if the thought just occurred to him, Lord Hampton quickly made a proposal. "You will stay the night at Hampshire Hall. There will be more room there for you than in the ship's cabin."

He didn't add that any room there would be easily accessible to him if Heather screamed while in the hands of her new husband.

Brandon turned his frigid gaze upon the smaller man. "And of course you insist upon that also," he growled.

His lordship faced him with an unwavering stare. "Yes, I do," he said calmly.

A muscle twitched angrily in Brandon's cheek, but he said nothing, not even when his lordship suggested it was time they left for the wedding feast at Hampshire Hall. He just took his bride's arm in a firm, solid grasp and allowed the others to precede them from the church.

Heather, nervous and jittery with his hand at her elbow, would have preferred going out on Lord Hampton's arm, but Brandon clearly had no intentions of letting her do so. His mastery over her had already begun and she knew that she would never again belong to herself. His possession of her was complete—except for perhaps her soul, but he would not stop until that too belonged to him.

Much to her dismay, she was halted by the sudden refusal of her cape to be drawn with her up the aisle. Frantically she looked over her shoulder to see what was binding it, and Brandon turned his black scowl on her as she appeared to tug away from his unrelenting grasp.

"Please," she started in a quavery voice, lifting a hand to explain her seeming reluctance to move forward.

His eyes went past her toward the garment caught on a splintered pew, and he grinned down at her sardonically and went back to release it. Heather watched him nervously, clasping the Bible she held in both hands. Her palms were moist and her fingers twitched. She glanced at the gold band that stamped her as his. It was rather loose and slid around her finger easily. Just to look at it brought more fear to her heart, knowing what it would mean.

Brandon detached the golden embroidery from the rough splinter and tossed the end of the cape over his arm in a careless manner and came back to her. Again his hand slid under her arm.

"There's no need to distress yourself, my love," he said mockingly. "The garment is intact."

"Thank you," she murmured softly, raising her eyes uncertainly to his.

His taunting smile seared her and brought a rush of color to her face. He was cruelly laughing at her and her stung pride would not allow that. It brought her chin up defiantly. She glared at him through the tears that sprang to her eyes.

"Were I a man you would not smirk so easily," she spat, hating him.

He raised a finely arched eyebrow and chuckled unmercifully at her. "Were you a man, my dear, you wouldn't be in this situation."

Her blush deepened. Infuriated and seething with anger and humiliation, she tried to wrench free from his long fingers but he only tightened them around her arm.

"You cannot escape me again, my beauty," he said easily, seeming to enjoy her distress. "You are now forever and for always mine. Marriage with me is what you wanted and that is what you shall have for the rest of your life—unless by chance you are widowed. But do not fear, love, I have no desire to leave you too soon."

Her face turned ashen under his careless gibe, and she swayed on her feet, feeling faint. He steadied her by drawing her near, and he raised her chin so he could gaze down into her eyes. His own burned like coals of green fire.

"Not even your Lord Hampton will be able to save you from me now, though I see he will try. But what is one night in many?"

The words sent a quivery spasm of fright rushing through her body, and her head fell back weakly against his arm.

"What a beauty you are, my sweet," he said huskily. "I shan't grow tired of you too soon."

Lord Hampton, tense and nervous at their long delay with coming from the church, could not wait a moment longer. He hurried back in to find Heather clutched in her husband's arms, her head thrown back, her eyes closed, her face very pale.

"Has she fainted?" he asked anxiously, coming to them.

The fire in Brandon's eyes died and he glanced at the smaller man briefly. "No," he replied and returned his gaze to his wife. "She will be better in a moment."

"Then come," his lordship said irritably. "The carriage is waiting."

He turned and left them, and Brandon's arm tightened around his wife.

"Shall I carry you, my love," he asked mockingly, an evil jeering grin twisting his handsome mouth.

Heather's eyes flew open.

"No!" she cried, flinging herself from him in a sudden burst of pride and energy. His laugh straightened her spine even more. With a toss of her head she walked from him, but he still held her train over his arm and she came up short when the extra length ran out. She glanced back audaciously and glared at him when he would not release it. The corner of his mouth went up scornfully as he came to her side again.

"Your escape is impossible, my love. I have a very possessive nature."

"Then bed me here if you must," she hissed, hate giving virulence to her tongue. "But do it quickly, for the others wait."

His jaw tightened and his eyes grew cold. "No," he said, taking her arm. "I shall take my pleasure of you slowly and at my leisure. Now come, for as you say, the others wait."

Outside the church, they were met by a shower of wheat. Sparse as the wedding party was, Lady Hampton would not let the simple custom go undone. Later they moved to the waiting carriage. Aunt Fanny was silent with the Yankee so near. Uncle John, hesitant and unsure of himself, helped Lady Hampton down the steps of the cathedral and her husband, Lord Hampton, hung back, watching Captain Birmingham assist his young bride.

Uncle John handed his wife and Lady Hampton into the carriage and climbed in after them. As Heather drew near she found the three squeezed together on one side, Lady Hampton suffering greatly by being in the middle. The poor woman's complaints went unuttered however, and permitting herself a small smile after all that she had been through, Heather lifted her skirts to climb up into the landau. She was greatly surprised when she found herself being slung up in her husband's arms and placed aboard. Without thanking him for embarrassing her, she sank down on the vacant seat and gave him a withering glare which he could not see. He climbed in and threw his weight down beside her, and she was squeezed unmercifully when Lord Hampton got in also. To allow herself more room she tried to sit up on the edge of the seat, but she found herself unable to move because her husband was sitting on her skirt. She glanced up at him, but he was staring out the window and the muscles in the side of his face were tense with anger. An unintelligible, cowardly murmur escaped her lips as she pushed back against the seat again, fear catching at her heart. Their bodies were so close, his shoulder overlapped hers and the back of his arm rubbed against her breast. The full length of her thigh was pressed to the granite-hard muscles of his.

As the chaise rolled along the cobbled streets, she made an awkward attempt to converse with Lord and Lady Hampton although they were just as tense as she. Her tone was almost inaudible when she spoke and cracked with nervousness. To save face she soon fell silent, afraid to trust her voice any longer.

The ride seemed endless. They were jostled and bounced and Heather wondered frantically if any bone in her body would be left unbroken. Though Lord Hampton was not a big man, he was still larger than she and between her husband, whose tall broad-shouldered frame gave no inch, and his lordship's, she, being much smaller than the two, endured much. The pressure of Brandon's arm against her breast alone was sending her into a state of shock.

Finally the carriage drew up before Hampshire Hall. Brandon descended first and with capable hands reached up, clasped her under the arms and swung her down beside him. She straightened her clothes with a jerk and flung her long train over her arm with an arrogant toss of her head. Inside the mansion she stopped to discard the heavy cape and, much to her displeasure, was helped by her husband who unfastened the gold chains from her shoulders. His long fingers worked with great dexterity.

The wedding feast was already laid upon the table when they entered the dining room. Lord and Lady Hampton took their places at the ends of the table and motioned for Heather and Brandon to sit on one side, Uncle John and Aunt Fanny on the other. They lifted their glasses in toast to the young couple.

"To a most happy and rewarding marriage despite what has here before taken place," his lordship offered. Then he added as an afterthought, "And may the child be a fine boy."

A red glow spread over Heather's features as she lifted her glass to her lips. But she did not drink. She would not hope for a boy and give this man more confidence in himself. She noticed, however, that he drank the champagne down quite easily, and she eyed him distastefully.

The meal went too quickly for Heather's peace of mind, though by the time they left the table it was past the hour of eleven. The men took their brandies into the drawing room as Lady Hampton propelled Aunt Fanny off to her sleeping quarters and drew Heather to the bedchamber prepared for her and the Yankee. Two giggly young maids were waiting for the young bride, and a night garment of transparent filmy blue cloth lay on the bed. Heather blanched white at the sight of it, but Lady Hampton led her to a bench in front of a huge mirror and pressed her down into it.

"I shall return with some wine when you're ready," the woman murmured, kissing Heather's brow. "Perhaps it will help."

As the maid drew her bridal gown from her and uncoiled her hair, Heather knew nothing would protect her from her fear. She would have to be unconscious before she would not quake with fright.

"I might as well be a virgin," she thought with some surprise, "as much as I tremble."

Brushed a hundred strokes, her hair was left loose and flowing, reaching down to her hips. Her clothes were taken away—not even a robe was left—and Heather, sitting on her heels in the middle of the bed and wearing only a gown of gossamer to veil her nakedness, tried to still her trembling body and calm herself for the ordeal that was to come.

Outside the bedroom, footsteps clicked against the marble floors, but she breathed a sigh of relief. They belonged to a woman.

Lady Hampton opened the door and came in, carrying a tray bearing a wine decanter and two glasses. She set it down upon a table beside the bed and poured Heather a glass as she inspected the work the girls had done. She nodded with approval.

"You are even more beautiful now, my dear, than you were in your bridal gown, impossible though it may seem. You were a vision. I felt so proud. I just wish there would have been more time to invite guests. You needed to be shown off. I could have told them you were my own sweet. How I grieve that your mother died so soon and never knew you. She would have been proud of you."

"Proud of me?" Heather asked forlornly, looking down at her stomach. "I've brought disgrace to you all," she said tearfully.

Lady Hampton smiled at her gently. "Nonsense, my dear. Sometimes a girl cannot help the things that happen to her. She's just a victim of circumstances."

"Or of Yankees," Heather murmured.

Her ladyship laughed softly. "Yes, or of Yankees, but at least he's young and handsome and clean. When my husband first told me of your predicament and said a Yankee seaman was to blame, I was sick with worry. I thought he would be old and lecherous. Even your aunt confided that she expected the man to be so. It was probably a great disappointment to her that he was not, considering what you've suffered in her hands. But he's so magnificent. Truly all your babies will be fine and beautiful and I suppose you'll have many."

Lady Hampton's voice dwindled off to barely a whisper as she remembered the passionate embrace Captain Birmingham had given his young bride and the rock hard expression that had been on his face afterward.

"Yes," Heather breathed silently. She swallowed hard and said aloud, "Yes, I suppose we'll be having many."

She was thinking of the ease with which Brandon had planted his seed in her. She would no doubt be giving birth to many.

Lady Hampton rose to go and Heather looked up pleadingly.

"Must you go now?" she asked in a quavery voice.

The woman nodded her head slowly. "Yes, my dear. We've held him at bay long enough. We cannot any longer. But if you should need us, we will be near."

The woman's meaning was not lost upon Heather. She knew if she called out for assistance they would come, despite the fact that they had no right to interfere.

Again she was alone and frightened. But after she had tasted bitterly her husband's mockery, she was determined now not to cringe and cower from him.

"Let him see that I am willing," she thought cunningly. "He will not choose to hurt me then."

Her waiting came to an abrupt end, startling her when the sound of his footfalls came in the hall. Her face flamed as she saw the door open, and then she found herself staring across the width of the room into his green eyes. His gaze lowered and a fire was kindled as he raked her body with his stare.

Heather sat awkwardly, her heart beating wildly. The bedcovers had been drawn to the end of the bed out of her reach and she longed to pull them to her. The gown she wore was like a soft blue veil over her body, more alluring and revealing than bare flesh. It was tied with soft ribbons at the waist on each side, but from the waist up and the waist down it was slit with no further ornament to hold it together. As a result the sides of her breasts were exposed and the long, slender limbs were laid bare to his gaze. The hardest thing she ever had to do in her life was to sit calmly before him and let him look at her as he was doing.