The Hellion Bride (Sherbrooke Brides 2)

She lurched up and stared down at him.

He was laughing, lying there on his back, rubbing his jaw, and laughing. At her.

She scrambled off the other side of the bed, grabbed her nightgown and pulled it over her head. She was panting with fury, with fear, because she'd seen the blood on herself, but she knew it couldn't be her monthly flow. He'd hurt her, all right, hurt her so badly she was bleeding.

God, she hated him, hated herself, wished she could topple the bed over on top of him. It was rosewood and very heavy. She tried, but she couldn't lift it.

He stopped laughing, rose and shook his head. He stood on the other side of the bed now, just looking across at her. She couldn't help herself. She looked at his groin, at his flat belly and the thick mat of hair that surrounded his sex, at his legs that had pressed against hers. He wasn't fully aroused now and he was wet with her and with himself and there was blood too and she gasped.

Ryder looked down at himself then back at her face. He pulled back the covers and looked at the stains of blood on the sheet. "I won't seek retribution for that blow until after I've got you cleaned up."

"You come near me and I will break your back. You've hurt me quite enough, Ryder. No more. If I die from what you've done to me, so be it. I deserve it for being such a colossal fool, but you will stay away from me."

"I told you that the hurt is because this was your first time. As for the blood, that won't happen again either. Good God, if a woman bled every time she had a man, the species would cease to exist in a very short time. I'm not lying to you, Sophie. I do find it passing strange that you are ignorant of this. The bleeding signifies your passage into womanhood."

"That is sheer nonsense and you know it. I am nineteen years old, Ryder, very much a woman."

"Oh, I do agree, my dear wife, indeed I do. But my rending of your maidenhead now means you can bear a child. There will be some stretching for a while yet until you become used to me, but it won't hurt. Indeed, I've been told it's a very nice feeling."

"Yes," she said, "told by doubtless two dozen wom­en!"

Acrimony? He wasn't certain. He prayed it was acrimony, a goodly dose of it. He walked around the end of the bed. She didn't back away from him as he'd imagined she would, instead, she flung herself at him and punched her fists into his belly, against his chest, tried to hit his face.

It was a silent battle and he became aware of that silence and wondered at it. Fighting was a loud busi­ness, at least in his experience—cursing, grunting, yelling. But she didn't make a bloody sound save for her harsh breathing. And he realized then, and said aloud, "You learned how to fight, to struggle, with­out a sound, didn't you? You knew that any sound could have awakened Jeremy and you couldn't allow that. Damn you, Sophie, it's different now. That mangy old bastard is well and truly dead. Damn you, yell at me when you fight me!"

She tried to kick him in the groin instead and he simply turned quickly to the side and her blow landed on his upper thigh. He ripped her nightgown off her and threw her onto her back. He brought his full weight over her.

She was heaving and jerking against him and he simply let her, holding her hands over her head. He didn't look at her heaving breasts, tried to ignore her legs thrashing against his, her belly tensing against his.

When she finally quieted, he said, "You didn't enjoy me touching you or kissing you at all, did you?"

She looked at him as if he'd lost his mind.

"No, that was a rather stupid question, wasn't it? We will change all that, Sophie. You are remember­ing the past year, aren't you? Those men, and what your uncle made you do. Dismiss it, Sophie, relegate it to a time that no longer matters, a time well gone, and forget it."

She realized then, in a flash of understanding, that she didn't doubt for an instant that he wouldn't hurt her no matter how much she tried to hurt him. Never would he raise his hand to her, never would he smash his fists into her ribs. She could probably shoot him and he wouldn't hurt her. She lay there simply looking up at him. Those blue eyes of his were blazing, brilliant as sunlight against a clear sky, yet somehow deep and calm. She said slowly, "You were a part of it. You were the biggest part of it. I knew everything would fail once you came, but my uncle wouldn't believe me. I tried to tell him you were different, because I knew, somehow I knew what you were, but he wouldn't listen. I didn't want to get near you but I did, and look what happened. How can I forget it?"

"In what way did you believe me different from the other men?"

She wished she hadn't said it but she had. "The others were so pleased with themselves, so filled with their pride and conceit, for they had gotten me, just a simple woman really, nothing more, but I was a prize, a possession, no matter how temporary, and it gave them stature and prestige in other men's eyes. You don't care what others think of you or what you do. You see things differently; you react differently."

He looked thoughtful. "Oh, don't get me wrong, Sophie. I wanted you, don't ever mistake that, but it was a game to me. I wanted to best you, to conquer you. Perhaps I wished to teach you a lesson, as I said, but things changed. I married you. Surely that isn't such a bad thing. You are safe with me, as is Jeremy. You are secure, you will never know fear again in your life. Now, you will forget the past. I am your present and your future. Can you feel me? I want you again but I will bathe you first and give you a while to ease. Will you continue to fight me?"

"Yes."

He sighed and rolled off her. He walked to a long, low dresser and pulled two cravats from a drawer. "I regret doing this for it will probably make you so angry you won't speak to me for a week, no matter that I'm your husband and you vowed to obey me."

She jerked off the bed and ran naked to the bed­chamber door. His hand slammed against the door above her head. "Are you quite witle

ss, Sophie? You are splendidly naked, my dear. It is doubtful that any of my siblings or any of the servants are wan­dering the halls, but who knows? I prefer to keep all your female endowments just for my eyes. You are quite beautiful. Your legs are long and firm. You run well.”

He took her hand and began to pull her back to the bed. She kicked him hard in the back of his leg and he felt the pain spurt through him and his grip loosened. She jerked away from him, and this time, she was at the door and through it before he could stop her. She ran down the long corridor, unaware really that she was naked and out of control. She simply ran until, quite suddenly, there was a shad­ow in front of her and she ran full tilt into it and it wasn't a shadow but a man and he was in a dressing gown. It was the earl, her brother-in-law, and his hands were wrapped about her bare upper arms and he was holding her gently yet firmly.

"Let me go!"

"You need some clothes," Douglas said, so stunned at the appearance of his new sister-in-law complete­ly nude that he was surprised there were any words at all in his mouth.

"Please," she began, trying yet again to jerk away from his hold, looking back over her shoulder even as she struggled. Ryder was striding toward them, wearing a dressing gown, carrying another dressing gown over his arm. He looked furious.