It was that query that had started his downward spiral. He hadn’t realized how much his actions had resembled that of his father’s until that moment. Contrition had devoured him and he’d vowed to change his ways right then. When he’d returned to London and his mother had congratulated him on his vows, he’d told her the plans he’d had to separate ties and live on his own with Daria and attempt to start a family. His mother had not been pleased, claiming that he was deserting her in her hour of need, but he had remained steadfast and moved out of the Bookbinder townhouse and attempted to do right by his budding family.
A few months later, tragedy had struck in the form of several devastating blows that he knew he’d likely deserved. His mother had never fully forgiven him for leaving and he blamed himself for her death, although the doctor had claimed that the apoplexy she’d suffered couldn’t be helped. The same was said for Daria, that the childbearing had been too difficult for her to withstand and the strain had caused her death.
And yet Benjamin still blamed himself for it all. If he hadn’t been so set on revenge against the world, he might have been able to hold his son in his arms instead of burying the stillborn child with his mother.
He could feel his throat getting tight from the recollection, so he eased his conscience by pouring another glass of brandy, forgetting that his bath was likely growing cold by now. It wasn’t until his eyes started to lose some of their focus that he realized that he might very well be on his way to being sloshed for his second wedding night.
He scoffed, finding it rather fitting, as it would mirror that of his first one.
Unable to rest,Catherine paced the interior of her chamber after the new lady’s maid her husband had hired soon departed. She waited for the clock to strike so that she could meet her husband in the dining room.
She put a hand over her stomach, the butterflies fluttering every time she thought of Benjamin Fontaine as herhusband. It was such a foreign thought, a novel idea that she had never planned to pursue, especially in such a fashion, and yet, nothing made it any less true. It was her duty to stand by the baron as a dutiful wife should—including sharing a bed.
Catherine listened with half an ear as the appointed lady’s maid had chattered on about the estate, grateful that the servant was eager to speak so that she didn’t have to respond often. Her nerves were strung entirely too tight thinking of the evening to come. While she wasn’t entirely comfortable with the baron, considering they were still little more than strangers, she found her apprehension had nothing to do with any false modesty, buteverythingto do with the dark promises that he’d mentioned to her.
What exactlycouldhe do with his tongue?
Chiding herself for the hundredth time, Catherine headed downstairs attired in a chartreuse gown. She had always thought that the coloring went well with her dark hair and suggested as much to her new maid. Her previous maid would have known her preferences, and for the first time, she realized what an asset she had been, one that she’d taken for granted. She did not know her new maid’s name as yet, but she intended to change past mistakes and learn from them, becoming more familiar with the servants in her new household, of which she was the mistress.
However, the moment she stepped over the threshold, she knew that all these efforts had all been for naught because her bridegroom was completely foxed. She could almost smell the brandy on his breath from across the room and she could certainly tell by his relaxed manner and the slightly reddening of the whites of his eyes that he was well into his cups.
Catherine wasn’t sure what to say when she entered, but it turned out she didn’t have to say anything. The moment he spied her, he rose from his chair, a bit unsteadily, and made a point of boldly looking her over from head to toe. Against all odds, Catherine found her body heating from his intense regard. “You look… well.”
‘Well’?His compliment didn’t match the heated look in his eyes, but she merely murmured a polite reply and sat down. The baron resumed his chair and leaned back in a rather lazy manner. She found his relaxed ease unnerved her more than if he were composed and acted with perfect decorum. This man might very well fit the description of the one of whom he’d spoken with such disdain on the carriage ride here. She wasn’t certain she wanted to make his acquaintance.
And yet…
Something devilishly delicious began to swirl in her core, as if he were the forbidden fruit and she were drawn to temptation, knowing it was poison and she should abstain.
“I suppose you don’t want any wine.”
She shook her head. “I’ve heard that it is best to abstain from too many spirits.”
“It’s fortunate that you don’t have to abstain from other delights.”
Another flush of heat washed over her and Catherine nearly waved her hand in front of her face to fan herself. Instead, she concentrated on the food that was served. Since she was particularly famished, it wasn’t a difficult task to dig into her meal with gusto.
After a few bites, she realized that the master of the house wasn’t joining her. “Are you not hungry, my lord?”
“Not for food.” He raised his wineglass to his lips and she was drawn to the sight of his throat working as he swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down like some sort of hypnotizing token.
She acted as though she hadn’t heard his carnal statement and turned back to her fare, but she had to admit that the desire to eat had waned. She was finding his words too enticing to ignore. And possibly resist.
Forcing herself to eat at least half of the meal, she dabbed at her lips with her serviette and pushed her plate aside. “I’m finished.”
“Shall we retire?” he suggested.
She glanced at him with a slightly lifted brow. “Yes. I believeweshall.”
His nostrils flared at the emphasis she expressed. He stood up so fast that he nearly upset his chair. Walking to her side, he held out a hand to her. After a slight hesitation, she accepted the offering.
Rather than escorting her out of the room, he pulled her into his arms and buried his nose in her hair. “God, you smell divine.”
Her nose was close to his throat and she inhaled his clean, masculine scent. “As do you,” she said softly.
“Tell me you won’t turn me aside tonight.” It was almost a plea.
“You said that we needed to consummate our union. It’s best if we do that as soon as possible.”
