The Sherbrooke Bride (Sherbrooke Brides 1)

He stood there, stiff, his chest still heaving, looking at her sprawled legs. “I’m sorry,” he said again, “but I can’t—”

He turned quickly, his dressing gown flapping open, only to be brought up sharply by a very angry voice. “If you run away again, Douglas Sherbrooke, I swear I will leave Northcliffe Hall and travel to London and tell everyone that you are a pig and not an excellent lover. I will tell all the ladies that you have no control at all, that you’re a raving lunatic, that you can’t think of anything except yourself. Oh yes, and you’re very hairy and you sweat a lot!”

“Damn you, it’s your fault! If you weren’t so—”

“So what? So extravagantly beautiful? So utterly perfect?”

“Well, no, you’re not, not really, it’s just that . . . it has to be your fault. No woman has ever before made me into such a fool, such an uncontrolled imbecile, and God knows you’re not your sister so—”

“No, I’m not my bloody sister! I’m just me and you barely even can bring yourself to look at me!”

“That’s been soundly disproved. All I have to do is look at you and go mad—Well, maybe not your face, but the rest of you and that’s still you. You must be a witch. You’ve brought me low. It must be those breasts of yours. But there are your thighs and belly and . . . What have you done to me?”

“I have done nothing as yet, but I tell you that I am considering taking a sharp knife to your miserable throat!”

“Don’t you dare threaten me! Well, blessed hell! The good Lord knows I was much better off before you thrust yourself into my life! At least I knew who I was and why I did what I did.”

At least this time, she thought, staring at the newly slammed adjoining door, he had retreated to his own room and not to hers.

She pulled her legs together. She was very sore, deep inside, and her thigh muscles ached and pulled. She was also no longer a virgin. If she hadn’t recalled the incredible pleasure of the previous night, she surely would have cursed him now for being an animal. As it was, Alexandra sighed and pulled herself out of the rumpled counterpane. She was a mess, he’d been right about that.

She gave the bell cord a jerk.

It was close to an hour later when Alexandra emerged from her bedchamber to see Douglas standing there, leaning against the opposite wall between two Sherbrooke paintings, his arms folded across his chest.

“You took long enough,” he said and pushed off the wall. “I trust you’re ready for your breakfast.”

“Why not? Perhaps your mother will have put some rat poison in my scrambled eggs.”

“I will eat off your plate, just as I slept in your bed. I will be your royal taster. Incidentally, that gown isn’t at all what is acceptable for the Countess of Northcliffe.”

“Give me a moment, and I will contrive a wheedle.”

“No, you don’t have to. Since I accepted you, why then, I must also clothe you appropriately. I particularly don’t like the way all your gowns flatten down your breasts. Also, it can’t be particularly healthful. Not that I want them on display when we select new gowns, but a bit more hint of cleavage would be nice. I won’t have to be dependent entirely on my imagination to—”

“What are you doing here?”

He grinned down at her as he offered her his arm. “I thought you just might bolt. You were all but spitting fire at me, lying there on your back with your legs sprawled. I can’t allow you to go to London and tell all the ladies how I have behaved.” He gave her a bigger grin. “Not, of course, that they would believe you. They wouldn’t. They would snigger at you. They would think you a jealous woman and a liar.”

She wouldn’t look at him. “I will leave for London as soon as I am certain your sister is nowhere around. I shall convince them.”

“You won’t leave.”

“Stop grinding your teeth, it will do you no good. I will do whatever I want to do.”

He said very quietly, “You could be with child.”

That brought her face around and she gaped up at him. “Oh no, that can’t be possible. You can’t be that efficient. No, it isn’t reasonable and you’re making that up just to make me toe the line. Can it?”

“Certainly it’s very possible.” He placed the flat of his hand on her stomach, splaying his fingers. “I did spill my seed inside you twice. Don’t tell me they were both such forgettable experiences that you’d already dismissed them?”

“How could I? The first time you hurt me and the second time you were a mauling savage.”

Douglas frowned and removed his hand. “Yes, well, I didn’t mean to. And you’re lying about the first time. You squealed like a—”

“Be quiet! If that is supposed to pass for an apology, let me tell you, my lord, that it is sorely lacking. At least you didn’t blame me again.”

He gave her a brooding look. “I would be the same man if you weren’t here, so what am I to do?”