She forced herself to sit up in bed. She shook her head, wondering at the strangeness of how she felt. She felt somehow drunk but surely that was odd.

She swung her legs over the side of the bed. It wasn't her bed. She realized then that she was per­fectly naked.

She cried out. She stared blankly around her. She was in the cottage, quite alone. She simply sat there, tugging the sheet over herself, staring at the far wall. What had happened?

Ryder Sherbrooke had happened. Somehow he'd discovered what she and Uncle Theo had done to him. And he'd gotten revenge.

She wondered if he'd taken her as Dahlia had taken him two nights before. How did one tell? She rose slowly, dropping the sheet. The room was warm and she felt perspiration on her brow from the heat of the room, and from the heat of her fear.

What had he done to her?

She looked down at herself. She looked just the same. She remembered long ago that Uncle Theo had assured her that she'd remain a virgin. But how could one tell if a female was a virgin or not? She hadn't asked him. God, she didn't know.

What to do?

Sophie saw her clothing lying neatly over the back of a wicker chair. They were the same clothes she'd worn the night before. He'd brought her here to the cottage and stripped her to her skin. It was beyond embarrassing. She had to know what he'd done to her. She had to find out what he knew.

She thought of Uncle Theo and blanched. Then, of course, she realized what must have happened. Ryder had drugged her, then Uncle Theo. He'd done a fine job of it. He'd paid them back in kind.

She dressed quickly and combed her hair, tying it at her nape with the same ribbon she'd used the night before. She looked at herself in the mirror. Did she look different? Was that how one knew that one wasn't a virgin anymore?

She looked pale, nothing more that she could see. She had to know. She left the cottage and walked quickly back to Camille Hall.

Uncle Theo wasn't there. A slave told her that the massa hadn't come down yet.

She realized then that it was only seven o'clock in the morning. But she couldn't wait. She called for Opal to be saddled.

CHAPTER

6

RYDER WAS ALONE on the front veranda drink­ing a cup of coffee. It was still very early, but he knew, deep down, that she would come and very soon. She wouldn't be able not to. She would have to know what he'd done to her and he couldn't wait to tell her.

When he saw Opal cantering up the drive, he smiled in anticipation, both his body and his mind becoming instantly more alert. He didn't rise, mere­ly sat back and watched her ride closer and closer.

Sophie dismounted and tethered Opal to one of the black-painted iron posts. She was shaking. That would never do. She wiped her hands on her skirt and forced her shoulders back.

She walked up onto the veranda and simply looked down at him. She hadn't expected him to rise as a gentleman should in the presence of a lady and, indeed, he didn't. After all, she was about the furthest thing from a lady that breathed.

Ryder smiled up at her, a predator's smile, a quite evil smile really. "Good morning, Sophia. You haven't changed your clothes, I see. You couldn't wait to see me again, then? Would you like some break­fast? Coffee, perhaps? You must keep your strength up, particularly after your exertions last night."

He was going to toy with her. Very well then, she wasn't an inexperienced twit when it came to men. She'd well learned most of their vagaries during the past year, their little conceits, their need to domi­nate and rule. She smiled back at him and tossed her head. "I should like some coffee, thank you."

"Do sit down."

She waited for him to return, her mind working feverishly, but blank of ideas. When he handed her the cup, she took it and sipped it slowly, all the while watching him take the wicker chair opposite her. He leaned back, as indolent as a lizard warming himself in the sun, and crossed his arms over his chest. He leaned the chair back on its hind legs. She wished it would tip over and he would cosh himself on his damned head.

"It's very early for a visit," he remarked to the wisteria that was spilling wildly over the railing of the veranda.

"Yes," she said, "very early indeed, yet you are up and dressed, almost as if you were waiting for someone to arrive. It will be hot today."

"It's hot every day. Did you wish to speak to me about something in particular? Or perhaps you wanted to see Samuel, who's so besotted with you he nauseates me with his endless effusions? Or perhaps Emile, your childhood friend whom you now ignore?"

"You."

He gave her a lazy nod, then fell silent. The silence stretched long between them.

"Well?" he asked at last. "It's not that I have some­thing urgent to do, it's just that I do bore rather easily. You are pushing the limits, Sophia."

Tags: Catherine Coulter Sherbrooke Brides Historical
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