The Hellion Bride (Sherbrooke Brides 2)

"He won't," Ryder said, his voice sharp. "It's not any of his damned business."

She arched an eyebrow at him. "You are so good, so kind, so wondrously chivalrous, why, I think I will cry."

"You could better consider keeping your mouth closed. It's not as if I don't much enjoy women," he said now, clearly irritated with her calm acceptance. "Dammit, Sophie, I have given five—five!—women their conge! I even made up a list of possible hus­bands for each of them. I will provide dowries for the three who wish to wed, and the other two are going to London and I am providing for them too. I am a lover in demand, and they are all saddened unto profound depression that I will no longer pleasure them."

She laughed. "Ah, Ryder, you are amazing, you know that? Truly amazing. You brag about your women and keep mum about your children. You know, I would never expect a man of your character to not take care when you climbed into a woman's bed. I'm very surprised that your brother knows you so little."

He sobered. "Don't blame Douglas. He only came home from the army less than a year ago. He believed what I told him, and as I told you, I am known for my prowess with women, far and wide, so my promised fidelity to you shakes him profoundly. He believes in true love because of it. Before, he merely accepted that lust ruled my head. As for him, he has a little girl nearly Jenny's age."

"Well, he is sure to suspect something is amiss with his opinions of you when he and Alex return to find a houseful of children."

Ryder cursed. "Damn Jane and her cursed mea­sles!"

"It is fortunate that Chadwyck House is so very large. I fancy the east wing will accommodate all of them quite nicely. Indeed, I've already seen to their rooms—while you were ignoring me. Now, tell me about Jane. Do you think she would like to live here?"

"I don't know. Jane much enjoys her

indepen­dence."

"Well, it's early yet. We will see. Doubtless she and I can work out something."

His face grew tight. A frown gathered on his brow. His lips thinned. Sophia looked on, fascinated. He kicked a pebble from his path. "You know, damn your so agreeable little hide, you could show a bit of jealousy. As my wife it would be thoroughly appro­priate. I dislike your cursed understanding, your damned unctuous acceptance. It is fine, in its place, but its place isn't here, it isn't now. Damn you, Sophie, stop being so bloody tolerant."

"I've already attacked you with a broom. I am unable to jerk up one of the apple trees and cosh you with the trunk. However, if you insist on pun­ishment, upon vituperation from a jealous wife, well then, you will have it."

She threw herself at him, hooking her foot behind his calf, and he went down, Sophie sprawled on top of him. She grabbed his hair to hold him still, then kissed him, every bit of his face, from his hairline to his earlobes.

"You sweetheart," she said, and kept kissing him. She pressed her belly against his and he moaned. She raised her head, looked at an apple tree just to her left and said, "Goodness, do you think we have enough bedding for all the children?"

"I am going to beat you, Sophie Sherbrooke."

"I hope you didn't give so much money to all your former mistresses that we won't have enough to buy food for all those little mouths. Goodness, did you go into debt with all the gowns Mrs. Plack made for me? Three riding habits, Ryder, three! How it is possible for there to be a more generous, a more giving, a more magnanimous man in the whole world? Or at least in the whole Cotswolds?"

He grabbed his arms around her back and rolled over on top of her. "Now you listen to me, you damned thorn in my flesh. I refuse to accept your sweet kisses just because you've decided I'm not the scoundrel you believed me to be. Ha! Half of what you say is sarcasm and you don't cloak it well. You don't even try. You rub my nose in it. Now you think I'm this benevolent philanthropist, this saintly creature, and even said so in that mocking voice of yours. The whole idea makes me want to puke. Damn you, I'm barely a nice man; I am barely to be tolerated. Don't you dare continue your kisses and your good humor just because now you think I'm different and bloody worthy."

"All right," she said easily, and clasped her arms around his back. 'You're still the same. I think you're a bastard, a bounder, a man without conscience, a clothhead who has no caring for anyone save himself and his own pleasures and—"

"Damn you, I'm not a bad man either. Ah, that's it, Sophie. No more of your agile tongue, that I—fool that I am—called forth myself. To think I begged you to give me back the hellion I married. No more. I will not let you have the upper hand any longer. You do too well when I deign to let you have it. No, now I'm going to take the reins back and you're going to moan, not speak your damned banalities that enrage me."

"But, Ryder, you were embarrassed because your good deeds literally came home to haunt you."

He jerked up her gown, tore her shift, unfastened his britches, and plunged into her.

She couldn't believe that her body was warm and more than ready, truth be told, and she accepted him, craved him, the full length of him, and she lifted her hips to take more of him.

"Now do you feel dirty, damn you?"

She bit his shoulder, then licked the spot and moaned into his neck. He felt her hands pressing against his lower back, then against his buttocks, lifting her own hips even as she did so and he said again, "Do you feel dirty?"

"No." Then she cried out, and he took her cries into his warm mouth and took his own release.

"Do you still feel embarrassed?" she whispered against his throat.

"You're lucky I am an understanding and giving man," Ryder said.

"Yes, even to me, your wife."

"You will cease your taunts, Sophie."