Scandal

Chapter 10

"I must say, Simon, you handled that brilliantly." Emily sat down in the chair near the fire and watched her husband as he locked the door of the bedchamber he had booked for the night.

Earlier he had taken one brief look at the room assigned to Emily and his mouth had tightened grimly. He'd ordered that a new chamber be prepared at once. The innkeeper had hastily retrieved Emily's possessions and moved them into the larger, more comfortable room.

"The thing is, Simon, you made it all sound so perfectly normal and matter of fact. Quite as if we had simply encountered Celeste on our honeymoon trip and had taken her under our wing."

The Marquess and Marchioness of Northcote had left for town a few minutes ago in their fast, comfortable traveling coach. If all went well they would have Celeste safely abed in her own bedchamber by early morning. It had been agreed that the simplest approach to the whole matter was to arrive home at dawn with their daughter as if they were all returning from a ball. No one would be the wiser.

"I am glad you approve of the way I dealt with the matter. I confess I am not as accustomed to inventing romantic tales on the spur of the moment as you are." Simon crossed the room and dropped languidly into the chair across from Emily. He stretched his booted feet out in front of the fire and regarded his runaway wife with a hooded gaze.

"Well, you certainly did a magnificent job," Emily assured him happily. "You even managed to figure out quite quickly what I had already told Celeste so that our stories meshed rather nicely."

"You dropped several useful hints, my dear." Simon's brows climbed. "Parted tragically on the morning after our wedding, were we? It was extremely fortunate for you that Lady Celeste did not inquire into the exact nature of the tragedy that had separated us."

"You have a point." Emily considered that closely for a moment. "I wonder if her mother will inquire."

"I doubt it. I do not think there will be any further questions from that direction. Northcote will accept my version of the story about being delayed with the carriage and sending you on ahead to get you out of the storm. He and his wife were far more concerned with their daughter's plight than with yours."

"Poor Celeste. At least she was saved from having to wed the wrong man." Emily brightened. "It was a marvelous rescue, Simon. Quite what I would have expected of you."

"You flatter me." Simon propped his elbows on the arms of the chair, laced his fingers under his chin, and fixed his wife with an unwavering gaze. "And now I think the time has come for you to make a few explanations of your own."

"Explanations?"

"I warn you, I do not wish to hear any of that nonsense you wrote in your note about broken hearts and broken urns. I have already read that particular poem, if you will recall. It was not one of your better efforts."

Emily's elation over the successful culmination of her adventure with Celeste faded rapidly under the implacable expression in Simon's eyes. She lowered her gaze to her hands, which were folded in her lap. "You once called that poem very affecting."

"Somehow it left a different impression this time around. Perhaps it was the circumstances under which I read it. Your maid was sobbing into one of my best linen handkerchiefs at the time. Duckett was hovering about like a mourner at a funeral. Mrs. Hickinbotham was ranting and raving about how I would undoubtedly find you shot dead on the road by a highwayman. Or worse."

Emily was momentarily diverted. "What could have been worse than being shot by a highwayman?"

"I believe Mrs. Hickinbotham had visions of you suffering a fate worse than death," Simon explained blandly.

Emily gave her husband a quick, accusing glance. "Some might say I already suffered that last night, my lord."

Simon surprised her with a faint smile. "Was it really that bad, Emily?"

She heaved a sigh. "Well, no, actually. As I told Celeste, it was a night of near-transcendent bliss."

"Good God," Simon muttered.

"I have been thinking about it a great deal and I have decided it was not entirely your fault that the experience was not what it should have been, my lord. After all, you did tell me you had never done that sort of thing before."

"Did I say that?"

"Yes, you did. So I imagine part of our problem was that we were both a bit inexperienced at creating transcendental unions and such. Bound to be a few problems in the early stages." She gave him a hopeful look. "Do you not agree, my lord?"

"It is very generous of you not to blame me entirely for failing to transport you to a higher plane, my dear."

Emily frowned, detecting sarcasm. "Yes, well, perhaps the problems with the physical portion of our union were not all your fault, but that does not excuse you for what happened later. You were most unkind and I left you that note with the lines from my poem about urns and such because I thought it rather apt."

"Apt? You get yourself embroiled in a potentially dangerous situation, we are miles from home on a wet and exceedingly unpleasant night, we are obliged to put up in a shabby little inn with bad food and worse beds, and all because you chose to indulge yourself in a fit of the sulks. Madam, let me tell you I did not find romantical references to broken hearts and broken urns at all apt."

"My heart was broken," Emily declared passionately. "You broke it this morning when you told me that last night had meant nothing to you."

"I did not say that, Emily."

"Yes, you did. You told me that what I took to be a transcendent union of like souls was nothing more than mere lust." All the resentment welled up inside her once again. "What's more, you were perfectly horrid to me simply because I had gone out into the gardens to say farewell to my father. I know he has his faults, but he is my father and you have no right to forbid me to see him or the twins."

"I did not forbid you to see them, Emily. I merely said you would not see them on your own."

"I cannot allow you to restrict me like that."

"You are my wife," Simon reminded her, his voice growing dangerously soft. "I have every right to restrict you in any way I feel is appropriate. The actions I have taken are for your own good."

"Rubbish." Emily flared. "They are to prevent me from continuing to manage my family's financial affairs. It is another element in your revenge plot and that is all there is to it."

"Your father has taken advantage of your business talents for years."

"What does that signify? You married me for those same talents. You only want to use me, too."

"You were the one who begged me to marry you," Simon said through set teeth. "Or have you forgotten so soon how you bargained with me that day by the stream? You have gotten what you wanted, Emily. You are now my countess. You must abide by the terms of our agreement."

Emily's fingers twisted together as she looked at her husband in defiant anguish. "I did not realize you meant to cut my family off completely from me."

"It is only the financial connections I am severing completely."

"But you allowed my father to think you would not cut him off entirely," she reminded him.

Simon smiled coldly. "Yes, I did dangle that lure for a while. It made everything so much easier, you see."

"You are taking your vengeance too far, my lord."

"You, my sweet, know nothing about vengeance."

"And you do?"

"Oh, yes," Simon said softly. "I have spent twenty-three years dreaming of it. Now, I have had enough of this topic. My notion of revenge need no longer concern you. You are my wife and you will henceforth conduct yourself in a manner befitting your title as Countess of Blade. Is that quite clear, Emily?"

Emily's heart sank. "What if I do not wish to be your countess any longer?"

"That is most unfortunate because it is too late to change your mind. You surrendered to your romantic impulses and excessive passions, my dear, and now you must pay for the experience."

"But, Simon, we shall both be so grossly unhappy if we continue as we are. Surely you must see that."

"Nonsense," Simon said heartlessly. "There is no reason this marriage should not work very well. If I had not reached that conclusion several weeks ago, I would not have gone through with it. You will make me a suitable countess once you have settled down to the business. In any event, there is no going back. An annulment is out of the question and I will certainly not allow you to contemplate a divorce. I know you treasure your scandalous past, but a divorce would be too much even for you to handle. And I, of course, have my title to consider."

"Yes, of course." Emily studied her clenched hands, aware of a guilty sense of relief. A divorce was naturally out of the question. She was bound to Simon for the rest of her life.

The rest of her life. Emily's mood began to lighten. Much could change in a lifetime, she told herself with renewed optimism, including a man's attitude toward his wife.

Simon's gaze grew even more stern. "Now, listen well, Emily, because I do not wish to find myself forced to chase after a runaway wife again. There will be no more haring off for parts unknown whenever you happen to feel unsatisfied with your lot in life. There will be no more miserable little poems left behind with your maid. I am prepared to grant you a fair amount of freedom but you will obey the few rules I do impose, the principal one being that you are not to see any member of your family unless I am present. Do I make myself clear?"

Emily eyed him through lowered lashes. "Very clear, my lord. It all sounds perfectly horrid. Not at all what I had envisioned marriage to you would be like."

Simon's mouth curved faintly. "You must look on the bright side, my dear. You are a creature of excessive passions. Now you are free to indulge those passions. Concentrate on that end of things and the rest will fall nicely into place."

That was too much. Emily was incensed by the condescending words. "Elias Prendergast once offered me the same opportunity. I was not interested then and I am not interested now. I can restrain my excessive passions until such time as they can be indulged with someone who is capable of a truly noble, spiritual, and metaphysical connection."

All signs of complacency vanished from Simon's expression in the blink of an eye. The dragon's golden gaze was suddenly ablaze. "I am well aware that married women of the ton frequently conduct affairs, but you will not even contemplate a liaison with another man. Understand me well, Emily. I do not share what is mine and as of last night you are most definitely mine."

Emily eyed him uneasily. "Celeste said you had picked up strange notions living in the East."

"If it is any consolation, I have always been inclined to guard what is mine. Living in the East only served to teach me various ways of doing so more thoroughly and efficiently."

Emily believed him. She was not particularly alarmed, however, as she certainly could not envision making love with any other man except Simon. "You need not fret, my lord. I was not so overly impressed with what we did last night that I would immediately seek out the experience with anyone else."

The dangerous fire in Simon's eyes faded. It was replaced with a distinctly annoyed expression. "I promise you that you will enjoy it more next time."

Emily chewed thoughtfully on her lower lip and narrowed her eyes mutinously. "Since we are on the subject, my lord, I may as well tell you that I am not interested in trying it a second time."

Simon looked away from her. He reached out, seized the poker, and began stoking the flames on the hearth with stabbing motions. "As I said, you will soon feel differently about the matter."

Emily gathered her courage. "No, my lord. I do not think so."

Simon glanced at her over his shoulder. "What do you mean by that?"

"Simply that I do not wish to have you make love to me again," Emily said bravely. She was determined on her course of action now. She knew what she had to do. "That is, not unless certain conditions are met."

"Emily," Simon began ominously, "I realize you are in something of a state because of your recent adventures, but I warn you, I will not tolerate—"

She held up a palm to silence him. "Pray, allow me to finish, my lord. I do not want you to make love to me again until we have truly established a pure and transcendent relationship, the sort of relationship I believed us to have when I asked you to marry me. You are not to trick me into love-making again, Simon, do you understand?"

"I did not trick you into lovemaking," he said through his teeth. "I explained to you that I merely eased your normal, maidenly wedding night anxieties. Some would say I behaved like a very thoughtful and concerned husband."

"Rubbish. You tricked me. And you will not do so again. That is final."

Simon's eyes gleamed dangerously, reflecting the flames on the hearth. And then he appeared to relax slightly, like a hunter who is content to lie in wait before pouncing on his quarry. "Very well, madam."

Emily was nonplussed by his ready acceptance of her mandate. "You agree you will not force yourself on me?"

Simon shrugged. "I have no particular interest in forcing myself on an unwilling wife." He put down the poker and sat back. His fingers drummed briefly on the arm of the chair. There was a lengthy silence and then his mouth curved coldly once more.

Emily did not like the looks of that smile. "What are you thinking, my lord?"

"Merely that I am content to wait until you come to me, Emily. In fact, I believe it will be infinitely preferable that way." He nodded, as if confirming some private conclusion. "Yes. Much better."

Emily hesitated, wondering if she had overlooked some glaring hole in her clever plan. Simon's acceptance of it was much too quick. "What if I do not come to you, my lord?"

"You will. And very soon." Simon got to his feet and poured two glasses of sherry from the decanter on the table. "I do not believe I shall have long to wait, you being a creature of excessive passions, and all. You are intelligent enough to know very well that while last night might not have lived up to your romantic expectations, there is more to be discovered on the physical plane. Surely you have not forgotten your experience that night I sat you down on the library desk, parted your thighs, and introduced you to your own passionate nature?"

Emily blushed and looked away. "No," she admitted quietly. "I have not forgotten."

"Imagine how it would have felt to go through that same rush of sensations with me buried deep inside you," Simon said deliberately. "Think about how much more truly transcendent the experience would have been. How very metaphysical. How stimulating to all your sensibilities. How damn exciting. Because, my dear, that is what it will be like the next time we make love. You have my personal guarantee on the matter."

Emily was suddenly feeling much too warm and she knew it had nothing to do with the heat from the fireplace. "You are trying to trick me again. Simon, I do not want to discuss this. I have made my decision and I insist you honor it."

"By all means, madam." He began to pry off his boots. "Not another word on the subject until you come to me and ask me very nicely to show you what you are missing and how much you have left to experience."

"Do not hold your breath waiting for that event, my lord," she shot back.

Simon started to unfasten his shirt. He smiled with a hunter's anticipation. "My sweet, rest assured you will not merely ask for it next time, you will beg me to bed you."

"Never," she vowed, driven to rashness by Simon's cool, masculine certainty.

"A woman of excessive passions should be very careful about making such sweeping statements."

"I will make any sort of statement I wish. Simon, what are you doing?" Emily's eyes widened in shock as he stripped off the linen shirt and slung it carelessly over the back of the chair.

"Getting ready for bed. I have had a very hard day, my sweet, as you well know." He started to unfasten his breeches.

"But I have just told you, I will not make love with you."

He nodded. "I heard you. I intend simply to go to bed and sleep as best I can on that lumpy-looking mattress. In the morning I shall hire a post chaise to take us home as soon as possible. I have no wish to spend any extra time here at this depressing inn."

"You are going to sleep on the bed?" Emily looked around, fully appreciating her surroundings for the first time. "Simon, there is only one bed."

"It is big enough for both of us." He started to step out of the breeches. Firelight gleamed on the sleek contours of his back and buttocks.

Emily stared, utterly fascinated, at the sight of her husband's lean, hard body. He stood with his back to the fire as he undressed but in the shadows she could see that he was half aroused. His manhood jutted boldly from its thicket of crisp, black hair. She remembered touching that broad staff last night, remembered the instant response of his flesh. She remembered, too, the way he had used that part of himself to forge a path into the very core of her being.

"Is anything the matter, Emily?" Apparently oblivious to her longing gaze, Simon strolled across the room to the bed and pulled back the covers. He got in and folded his arms behind his head on the pillow. "Well?"

Emily touched the tip of her tongue to her dry lips. "No. No, there is nothing the matter." She yanked her spectacles off and put them on the table. It was better not to be able to see too clearly at the moment. She jumped to her feet and began pulling a footstool into position in front of the hard wooden chair.

"What are you doing?" Simon asked, sounding curious.

"It is not obvious? I am preparing myself a place to sleep tonight." She stalked over to the bed, grabbed a blanket, and stalked back to the chair. Then she sat down, propped her feet on the stool, and arranged the blanket over herself.

"That chair is going to be very uncomfortable by morning. And when the fire dies, this bedchamber will get exceedingly cold," Simon warned.

"I do not expect to be comfortable, my lord. I expect to suffer. I shall consider it a punishment for my crimes of bad judgment and worse luck." Emily blew out the candle and settled down to ponder her wretched fate.

Half an hour later, Simon, who had been kept awake by a series of small, restless, miserable little noises from the vicinity of the chair, lay gazing up at the ceiling. The fire was now a mere pile of glowing coals but there was just enough light to reveal Emily's small form huddled under the blanket. She was no doubt freezing and Simon told himself he had no wish to have her get sick. An ailing wife would be a genuine nuisance.

He contemplated the best way to get Emily into the warmth of the bed. He was well aware it was only her pride keeping her in the chair. But pride was a very powerful thing, as he knew from personal experience. Sometimes it was all one had.

There was no need for Emily to suffer unduly tonight, Simon decided. Her feminine pride was due for a major blow soon enough. It would come when she was forced to finally admit defeat in this small war she had instigated.

He regretted having to set her up for the humiliation she would face when she finally surrendered. But there was no help for it. She would have to learn the hard way that he intended to be master in his own home and in his own bed.

In any event, it was Emily who had drawn the battle lines when she had made that rash vow not to grant him his rights in bed. Apparently there was still enough Faringdon in her to lead her to believe she could manipulate him, Simon reflected grimly. He would soon eradicate that element in her nature. They would both be happier and more content once Emily had accepted her new role in life.

In the meantime Simon decided he had no wish to listen to any more squirming about in the chair. He opened his mouth to order Emily over to the bed. But he was interrupted before he could speak.

"Simon?" Emily's voice was a soft, tentative thread of sound in the darkness. "Are you asleep?"

"No."

"I was just wondering about something."

Simon smiled to himself in satisfaction. Even better, of course, if she made the first move tonight. Would she ask straight out to join him in the bed or try the more subtle tactic of telling him she was cold and needed to get under the covers? he wondered. Either way he would make it easy for her.

"What were you wondering about, Emily?"

"Did you really cause Lucinda Canonbury to have a fit of the vapors when you entered a ballroom?"

"What the devil are you talking about?" Simon glowered at the figure in the chair.

"Celeste says that's what happened in London. She says all the young ladies on the marriage mart, including Lucinda Canonbury, were quite terrified of you and of the possibility that you would make an offer of marriage."

"I never noticed any of the silly chits having the vapors when I walked into a ballroom," Simon muttered. He had been informed, of course, that the Canonbury girl had fainted, but he had not actually noticed at the time. The ballroom had been quite crowded.

Emily giggled in the darkness. "I told Celeste it was all a lot of fustian. I am quite certain all the young ladies on the marriage mart were completely enthralled by you and you probably piqued them terribly by failing to even notice them."

It occurred to Simon that Emily still apparently had no real inkling of the reputation he enjoyed in town. As usual, she had romanticized the situation.

"You are quite right," he said evenly. "It is all a lot of nonsense." A thought struck him. He toyed with it for a moment and then made his decision. "Emily, would you like to go to London?"

"Oh, yes. Very much. But do you think I ought to do so? Papa always said I must not go into town too frequently lest someone mention the scandal in my past. I would not want to embarrass you, Simon."

"There is no longer a scandal in your past, Emily."

"There isn't?" She sounded confused.

"No. I have informed the few people, including Lord and Lady Gillingham and Prendergast, who know something of your little adventure five years ago that it is never again to be mentioned. That goes for you, as well. As far as you are concerned, Emily, there was no scandal."

"But, Simon—"

"We will not discuss it. There is nothing to discuss. And if anyone attempts to discuss it, you are to tell me immediately. Do you understand?"

"Yes, but, Simon, I really think—"

He softened briefly. "I know you cling to the memory of the Unfortunate Incident as one of your life's more thrilling moments, but I believe I can provide you with even more exciting moments to remember."

"Well, I thought so, too," she said candidly. "That is why I asked you to marry me. But now I am not so certain. I seem to have made a large mistake."

"Your only mistake, my dear, is in thinking you can manage me the way you manage your business affairs. I am not so easily controlled, madam."

"What a ghastly thing to say."

"It is the truth. But we shall soon remedy the problem. You will come to me and apologize very prettily for setting yourself against me. Then you will plead with me to take you back into my bed and that will be the end of it."

"Bloody hell, it will."

"I believe we were discussing a trip to London."

"We were discussing your insufferable arrogance," she retorted.

"We shall leave for town as soon as practicable."

"Why?" Emily demanded. "Why must we suddenly rush off to London?"

"Because," Simon said, thinking of the profound gratitude of the Marquess and Marchioness of Northcote, "I believe this would be a most opportune time for you to enter Society." Northcote, like Peppington and Canonbury, was now vulnerable at last. The marquess could be useful and Simon fully intended to use him and his lady to introduce Emily into Society.

Emily was silent for a long moment. "Do you really think so, Simon?"

He smiled again to himself. "Yes." He pushed back the covers and stood up. "Now, I find I am getting quite cold and uncomfortable. I must insist you come to bed and bring that blanket with you."

Emily sat up in alarm as he moved toward her, clutching at the blanket. She peered warily up at him in the shadows. "I have told you, I will not allow you to make love to me, Simon."

He reached down and scooped her out of the chair. "You may relax, my dear. This is a matter of practical comfort and health. I gave you my word I would not force myself on you." He stood her on her feet and began methodically and efficiently stripping off her clothing.

"Hah! Do you think I will beg you to make love to me once you get me into your bed?" she challenged as she batted ineffectually at his hands. "Do you believe I am so weak-willed?"

"You are not weak-willed, my sweet." Simon dropped the carriage gown over the chair, leaving Emily in only a thin muslin shift. "You are high-spirited, passionate, and impulsive. It is not at all the same thing."

Emily stopped slapping at his hands and looked up at him, squinting to see his face more clearly. "Do you really think so, Simon?"

He grinned briefly as he picked her up and carried her over to the bed. "I am quite certain of it, my dear. And even though you are presently annoyed with me, I know you would not wish me to freeze to death tonight. As we cannot both use the blanket unless we share the bed, we have no choice. You must join me."

Emily sighed in resignation and slithered quickly under the sheet. She lay rigidly on the far right edge of the bed, staring up at the ceiling as Simon got in beside her. "Very well. For the sake of our health, I will agree to share the bed. But you are not to make love to me, Simon."

"Do not concern yourself, Emily. I shall not pounce upon you in your sleep. I am content to wait until you come to me."

"That will not happen until I am convinced that what you feel for me is akin to what I felt for you until you broke my heart last night," she vowed.

"We shall see, madam wife. In the meantime, I suggest you get some sleep. You have had a very busy day."

"It was all rather exciting," she admitted, yawning. "I must say, it was very romantic of you to come after me the way you did. I feel there is hope for us, Simon."

His jaw set. "Because I followed you? Do not pin too many romantical hopes on that fact. I came after you because you belong to me and I keep what is mine. Do not ever forget that again, Emily."

There was silence from the other side of the bed. Simon waited for some acknowledgment of his stern admonition. When none was forthcoming he turned on his side and looked at Emily.

She had fallen fast asleep.

Simon watched her in the shadows for a moment and then he carefully gathered her close. Without waking, Emily snuggled against him as if she had slept in his arms for years.

A few minutes later, Simon, too, fell asleep.