The Hellion Bride (Sherbrooke Brides 2)

"Hardly," she said. She gave him a smile that didn't reach her eyes, a hard smile, and had he but realized it, a smile that cloaked an immense vulnerability. "If I didn't know better I would think you were agitated about something. Difficult to believe, I know. You, Ryder Sherbrooke, a man to whom the worries of the world are practically unknown. No, certainly that can't be it. You are not like normal people with normal concerns."

"I believe you have said quite enough. It always surprises me how you can go immediately on the attack with little or no buildup. Instantly, you are at the jugular, biting and nipping away. But you won't draw me this time or sidetrack me. That is always your purpose with me, isn't it? No, don't bother to deny it or bait me more. Now, I want to know something from you and I want the truth."

"Very well.''

He sat forward, his hands clasped between his knees. "The truth, Sophie. I mean it."

"If you have to remind me, if you have to look as serious as an idol, I doubt you'll believe a truth when you hear it."

"Did you sleep with any of those men willingly? Did your uncle force you into being a harlot or were you a harlot before and your uncle merely molded you into doing what he wanted you to do and with whom?"

"No."

"Damn you, Sophie, don't you dare—"

She rose suddenly, her skirts swirling about her ankles, and he saw that she was barefoot. Still ban­dages, but no shoes. He didn't like that. It made him angrier.

"Answer my question, damn you!"

"Ask me a single question, then, and I will answer it." Her back was to him, her shoulders straight, and he knew that chin of hers was probably thrust up a good two inches.

"Very well. Did you sleep with any of those men willingly?"

"No."

"Not even Lord David Lochridge?"

"No."

"Had you slept with any men before your uncle coerced you into bedding those of his choosing?"

"No."

"I see," he said, but he didn't, not really. His brain wasn't functioning with its usual clarity—doubtless because of the brooding—and it was making him equal parts frustrated and furious. "Damn you, how old were you when you had your first man?"

She turned to face him then and she was still smiling that hard, cutting smile. "If you're to be believed, why then, the first man had me when I was nineteen. And that first man was you." She laughed at the infuriated expression on his face. "You see, Ryder, you refuse to believe me because you're a man and men must place women into very neat slots. A woman is innocent or she's not. There is no middle ground for a woman. A widow is all right, perhaps, but even then men assume that she will bed any number of them willingly, indeed, enthu­siastically, because she's used to having sex and knows what it's all about.

"I have come to believe that once a woman has known a man intimately, she really isn't to be trusted after that. Goodness, if the man is her husband she just might cuckold him. Of course, a husband can't cuckold his wife. A husband can continue doing whatever he pleases. If he can't get a woman to willingly bed with him, why he simply buys a woman for the night. Or, like you—a rich man— he keeps mistresses. And the man remains utterly respectable. Indeed, his credit rises with both men and women. It is nonsense and not fair. I will tell you the truth again, Ryder. I have never been with a man intimately—"

"More of your unenlightened philosophy of life— how trippingly it flows from your mouth. You, Sophie, are more ignorant than a slug. You know nothing of men and women and what is important between them and how—"

She actually stamped one of her bandaged feet. "I never want to know! I sincerely doubt that there could be anything equal or fine or just between a man and a woman. I don't think you believe it either, Ryder. Don't you dare sneer at me. I will tell you again and it's the truth. I have never been intimate with a man, except you and you had to drug me and—"

"Damn you, I fondled and caressed your breasts and you allowed me to do it! You let me kiss you and you kissed me back expertly. You let me put my tongue in your mouth. By God, when you woke up on the beach and saw that I'd nearly stripped you and taken you then, what did you do? You smiled at me and teased me and invited me to be your lover. You promised you would dismiss the others. I would call that pretty damned intimate."

"—then you took me to the cottage, and I have no memory of that at all, as you well know. So, no, I'm no longer innocent, I suppose. I had assumed a man could tell if a woman was without experience and vice versa, but apparently it isn't so because you didn't apologize and admit that I had been a virgin when you took me."

Ryder rose very slowly. His face was red, the pulse in his throat was swelled and throbbing. He picked up his chair and hurled it with all his strength over the railing. A shout came from below. He gave her a look of utter loathing and strode off the balcony and out of the bedchamber.

Samuel Grayson found Ryder in the north cane-field. He was speaking to one of the head drivers, a black man named Jonah who could snap a man's neck with one huge hand. Ryder wore a hat. His shirt was open nearly to his waist and his chest was shiny with sweat and darkened from the sun. Samuel set his jaw and rode to the two men.

Ryder finished his questions to Jonah, thanked him, then turned to give a salute to Samuel.

"A good man," Samuel said, looking after Jonah.

"Yes. I would certainly like to have him on my side during a fight. Thinking of him as an enemy makes my blood curdle."

"I must speak with you, Ryder."