Married to a Stranger (Danger and Desire 3)

‘In your shoes I would have bitten the hand off anyone offering to rescue me from those straits,’ Cal said. ‘Not resisted as long as you did.’

‘No, you would not,’ she contradicted. ‘You would have stuck out that stubborn chin and refused. Can you imagine yourself accepting a marriage of convenience to a wealthy woman because you needed money?’

‘It is different for a woman,’ he said.

‘Yes,’ Sophia agreed with a somewhat watery attempt at a smile. ‘I discovered that. But this is all beside the point. Callum, do you not see? I let you believe I still loved Daniel and you felt you had to marry me out of duty to him. But all the while I should have been honest with both myself, and with him, and released him from the engagement years ago.’

‘It was not easy, was it?’ he asked her, wondering why anger was not stirring inside him. She had broken her word, failed to love his twin, done nothing to release either of them and then married him to save herself from penury. He should be angry. ‘You had to struggle to bring yourself to do it.’ Perhaps that was why? She had not snatched at his offer lightly, greedily.

‘I could do my duty by my family, which was to marry well, or be honest with you.’

‘And you do not know me, let alone love me, so your course of action was plain—do the best for your family.’

‘Yes. I should not have told you, I can see that now,’ she added, her expression miserable. ‘I should have been strong enough not to ease my conscience by admitting it. At least then you would not have known that you had married me for nothing.’

‘Nonsense,’ Callum said briskly. ‘I needed a wife and I have found one without delay. We will deal well together, never mind how we happened to come to this point. I do not regard it and neither should you.’ Did he mean it? He had no idea, but he had to say it. Anything else would be cruel. Sophia was his wife now, for better or worse.

He gave her hand a squeeze and released it, slid out of bed. ‘I’ll leave you, you must be tired now.’

She sat and watched him as he walked around the bed to pick up his robe, the sheet clutched to her breasts, her eyes still dark. Like this, she was beautiful. Desire surged back and Callum tied the sash tightly around his waist. He might want her, but he would not make love to her again tonight, not while he had this new reality to come to terms with. And, strangely, the one question that was beating at his brain was, Why don’t I mind about Daniel?

‘Callum?’ ‘Yes?’

‘Nothing. Sleep well.’

There was little chance of that, he thought as he closed the door quietly behind him.

Callum was in the dining room, addressing himself to a large steak when Sophia came downstairs the next morning. She had to confess to herself that she was grateful for the presence of Hawksley to open the door for her and Michael to hold her chair so that she was occupied with thanking them and seating herself and did not have to meet her new husband’s gaze until he had resumed his own seat.

‘Good morning, Sophia.’ There was a newspaper folded beside his place and a pile of letters at his other hand, but he seemed content to neglect them for conversation.

Sophia managed a composed smile and pushed to the back of her mind the embarrassing realisation that the staff knew what they had been doing last night and that Callum was probably thinking about it too. Soon she would get used to it, she supposed, but for now, the more she thought about what had happened in bed, the more blush-provoking it seemed. She had screamed. What if anyone had heard her?

Or perhaps all Callum was thinking about was her disloyalty to his twin and the fact that she had deceived him by allowing him to think she had still been in love with Daniel.

‘Good morning. It seems to be a very pleasant day. Yes, coffee, please, Michael.’

‘There is post for you.’ She blinked and came back to the present as Callum lifted the top three letters from the pile and passed them to her. She recognised her mother’s hand on one; the others were from friends in St Alban’s. ‘Hawksley, please see that Mrs Chatterton’s post is handed to her directly in future.’

‘Sir.’

This was, Sophia knew, a considerable concession. Most husbands would expect to have all the incoming post pass through their hands as a matter of course. She smiled her thanks, met a heavy-lidded look and glanced away, blushing. Callum had not stayed with her last night, or come to her room this morning. He had been gentle when she had confessed, but doubtless he was displeased with her.

Her tongue had certainly seemed to freeze. She had wanted to tell him that she would do her best to please him in bed, that she felt very grateful that he had taken her in Daniel’s place, but the words had sounded gauche and foolish even as she began to whisper them, and her voice had been choked with the tears that had welled up in shock at the sensual pleasure, the discomfort, the confusing way Callum had made her feel.

Instead her confession had tumbled out, proving to him that he could not trust her to do the right thing.

If she had tried to explain her feelings, she would probably only have embarrassed him. Mama had warned her that men did not like to speak about emotions or deep personal matters once the first courtship was over. Besides, he might think she was trying to tell him that she had fallen out of love with Daniel and into love with him. She cringed inwardly at the thought. The wonderful intimacy that she had felt with Callum for a few minutes, skin to skin, heart to heart, was something for the bedroom. Perhaps she would feel it again. For the rest of the time well-bred restraint was obviously appropriate.

Michael put a plate of eggs and ham in front of her and she began to eat, surprised at how hungry she felt. Callum pushed away his own empty plate. ‘I must go to Leadenhall Street today and I expect to be away until dinner time, I am afraid.’

‘Leadenhall Street is where East India House is, is it not?’ Sophia recalled. ‘You will have a great deal of business, I quite understand.’ It was a relief, in fact. She would have the opportunity to explore and talk to the servants and start to feel less like a guest and more like the mistress of the house. ‘I will need to discuss menus with Mrs Datchett. Will you dine at home every night this week?’

‘I have no idea. I ate out most of the time before—bachelors do. Now I am married it would be more fitting for me to entertain here. I may need to bring colleagues home to work in the evening. Surely the woman can improvise? My Indian cooks always did.’

‘She would not want to serve an inferior meal to your guests. Indian cuisine is different, I am sure.’ Sophia felt herself bristling at the implied criticism of one of her staff.

‘It certainly is. Tell her that if I do bring guests without warning we will not expect a formal dinner party. Will that help?’