He frowned and looked around as if he was rather surprised by where they were. The thought flitted through her head that perhaps he might have been caught up in the moment as much as she was.
Except another concern claimed her attention—her dress, her beautiful dress. She’d been in danger of hopelessly wrinkling it.
Clarissa patted her skirts before walking across the mattress with unsteady balance and jumping to the floor, only to fully realize one shoe was missing. Hergoodshoes. She’d have to find it, and that made her even angrier.
“Howdareyou,” she snapped out. “You promised no intimacy.”
He sat in the middle of the bed looking almost comical in his boots and fine jacket. “There hasn’t been any intimacy,” he grumbled. He was decidedly not in a good mood.
“There would have been—a complete violation of our agreement.”
“Aninkling of intimacydoes not violate our agreement. There is a line. We haven’t crossed it. At least not how I would have crossed it.”
His last comment incensed her. “Youpromised. A gentleman’s word should be his bond.” She had to throw that last in. She didn’t want a husband who broke his word.
He scowled his opinion and pushed himself off the bed. It was a huge bed. A person could be lost in it. Although she had to admit, she did admire the furnishings in this room. They weren’t ostentatious and suited her tastes. She’d rather like living in a bedroom such as this.
Standing, he pulled at the knot of his neckcloth, and said, “I did not violate our agreement.”
“You wanted to,” she flashed back.
His brows came together. “Excuse me, I kissed you. I believe you kissed me back.”
She had.
Clarissa shook her head, scattering the loosened pins that had held her curls in place. He was being deliberately obtuse. Still, she must be honest. “I may have become a bit carried away.”
“A bit?”
He was baiting her. “You should have taken me to the Green Room. That is where my things are.”
Mars walked to the end of the bed and leaned against the bedpost. “Actually, your things are here.”
“No, they aren’t,” she declared until shelooked around and realized he was right. Her brush was on the dressing table. She opened the armoire close to her and found her sensible shoes and new dresses hanging beside his clothes.
Why, he’d never intended to honor her terms. She whirled on him. “This is appalling. I trusted you.”
He tossed his neckcloth onto a side chair. “I’ve honored your terms.” He shrugged off his fine coat. “I stopped when you let me know you wished to stop. It was hard.Damnhard.I’mdamn hard,” he muttered in an under voice. The coat joined the neckcloth. She thought it disgraceful how he treated such excellent material.
“Ishould not be in this room,” she insisted. “I should be down the hall in the Green Room or the Blue Room or the Rose Room. Anywhere buthere.”
He stopped from pulling his shirt out from his breeches. “No, you agreed to being here. That was one ofmyterms, that we give the impression that ours is all that a marriage should be. There are appearances that must be maintained.”
She had agreed to that. “But I didn’t think it meant we needed to stay in the same room.”
“Of course it did. We are newly married. People would think it strange if we stayed apart. And I don’t want the servants talking.” He began pulling his shirt off over his head.
The servants would talk.
And she understood what he was saying alltoo well. “Youtrickedme.” And then, “Why are you undressing?”
He threw the shirt on top of his jacket. “Because I’m going to bed. Marrying is hard work. I’m tired. I’m surprised you aren’t.”
She was. “You can’t undress.”
“I can undress. I’m going to bed.” He spoke as if she was a simpleton, and that sparked her temper enough that she whirled on him.
“You are making a mockery of our agreement.” Dear Lord, he was half-naked. Embarrassment, and outrage, roasted her cheeks.
