in a sauce of wine and plums; a lovely broiled trout set upon a bed of braised lettuce, surrounded by carved lemons, an extravagance; a bowl of tiny new peas, and another of little carrots; fresh bread, sweet butter, and half a wheel of hard, sharp cheese.
He watched her nibbling unenthusiastically at a slice of beef, a spoonful of carrots, some bread. 'You are not hungry?' he asked.
'It is all very good, and well prepared,' India quickly said, sipping upon her second goblet of rich red wine. 'My appetite has been poor of late, I fear, my lord. Food upon the road is often not of the best quality, even at the finest inns.'
'When you have finished, then,' he told her, 'you may go to your chamber and prepare yourself for me, madame.'
She practically leapt from her place, and, curtseying to him, fled the hall.
He smiled wolfishly watching her go. India was not a woman to admit to fear, but she was afraid, and he knew it.
She could feel his eyes, those cold blue eyes, boring into her back as she went. God's blood! What kind of a man was he to insist on bedding her immediately? True, they were man and wife, but they had met but a few hours ago. They knew virtually nothing about each other. Then, in a flash, she understood. If the marriage were consummated, she could not demand an annulment. After all, had she not told him quite bluntly that marriage to him had not been her choice? He, of course, would want to take no chances with losing her dowry, or a rich wife who controlled her own wealth but could undoubtedly be cozened into parting with some, or all of it. Men! They were so obvious. He was no different from the rest, but then, she had not expected that he would be.
She was no virgin to be terrified of a man's love lance. As for her husband, he would probably assert his rights in a brusque and perfunctory manner, then return to his own bedchamber. She wasn't the first woman to be in such a position, nor would she be the last. It would have been nice if they might have gotten to know each other a bit before coupling, but so be it.
'You looked so lovely in that candlelit church, m'lady,' Meggie said, taking the Stars of Kashmir from her mistress and replacing them in their case. 'I've laid out a lovely nightdress for you.' She bustled about, taking India's garments, shaking and brushing them, and putting them neatly away. 'The earl seems a pleasant gentleman.'
'Aye,' she said.
' 'Tis a terrible scar he wears on his face, poor man,' Meggie noted. 'I wonder how he got it. He don't seem the type of gentleman to get into a brawl. Mayhap it were an accident.'
India took the soft flannel cloth that had been laid out, and sponged herself off with the warm, scented water Meggie had put in a silver ewer. Then she scrubbed her teeth with the cloth, rinsing her mouth with minted water. She slipped behind the painted screen in the corner of her dressing room, and, sitting on her commode, relieved herself, washing herself afterwards. Finally she pulled off her chemise, and Meggie slipped the rose-colored nightdress lavishly edged in lace over her head.
'Find your own bed now, Meggie,' India said quietly, and, taking up her silver hairbrush, she sat on the edge of her bed, brushing her long, dark curls, as, with a curtsey, Meggie hurried out the bedchamber door. India smiled after her. Meggie was obviously finding married life with Diarmid a pleasant thing. She looked about the room again, admiring the serenity and order of it. The fireplace burned brightly, and but for the two candles on the nightstand there was no other light. Meggie had drawn the draperies closed. The room was comfortably warm, and she could smell the heady scent of the roses from the bowl on the table.
A small door in the paneled wall opened, and the earl stepped through into the room. To her complete surprise, he was naked. 'Remove your nightdress,' he said quietly as the door behind him closed. 'Unless you are suffering your woman's cycle, are greatly advanced with child, or I tell you I will not be visiting your bed, you will always sleep naked, India, as do I. Do you understand me?' Then he stood watching as she removed her garment, nodding in answer to his question. 'Good,' he said. His eyes swept over her. 'You have a beautiful body, madame.'
She was nonplussed. She certainly hadn't expected him to behave in such a manner. It was very disconcerting.
Reaching out, he put his hands about her waist and turned her, drawing her back against his hard body. A single hand clamped over her right breast. His lips touched her shoulder, scattering a row of kisses across the warm flesh, even as his fingers crushed and marked the skin of her full breast.
She couldn't breathe. Her chest felt tight. His actions were not what she had anticipated at all. She could sense the lust beneath his careful deeds. He frankly frightened her. He was obviously dangerous. He was her husband, and she was at his mercy. India struggled against her own fright. She knew she must not show any fear with this man, but when he pushed a finger between her lips and into her mouth, she could not prevent a gasp of surprise.
After a moment's hesitation, her tongue reached out and touched the finger. Slowly she encircled the digit several times. It was long and thick, and very suggestive of another member of his body.
India could feel her heart hammering in her ears. She drew on the finger within her mouth over and over again while his hand fondled her breast hungrily, and her nipples puckered like frosted flower buds.
The hand moved from her breast finally, sliding down her torso, caressing her Venus mound. Pushing through the folds of her nether lips, he found her pleasure place and began to stroke it with his fingertip. 'What a sweet wanton you are,' he whispered in her ear. 'You are already wet with your desire. You want to be fucked, don't you, madame?' He pulled his finger from her mouth so she might speak.
'You are my husband,' India replied in a shaking voice.
He laughed, and it was a dark sound. 'Little whore,' he murmured. 'You would want to be fucked even if I weren't your husband, wouldn't you?' The finger playing with her pleasure place was obtaining the proper results, and she squirmed her bottom against his groin, desperate to reach that honied place where the tensions in her loins would dissolve in a burst of hot sweetness.
In that moment she hated him, for she was fully aware that he knew what he was withholding from her. The knowledge gave her a moment of strength, and she pulled away from him, whirling about to face those cold eyes. 'How dare you speak to me in such a manner, my lord? I am your wife, and not some servant girl to be insulted!'
He moved quickly, one arm wrapping itself about her, the other hand tangling into her dark hair. His mouth found hers in a long, hard, deep kiss that left her once again breathless. Shoving her down onto the bed, he flung himself atop her, his hands spreading her open. Without a word, he entered her body with strong thrusts of his hips, pushing deeply even as she attempted to unhorse him, spitting her rage and swearing fiercely at him.
But it was too late. He had prepared her well, and while India wanted desperately to deny him, her body welcomed him eagerly. She was hot and wet. Her tight sheath encased him. They groaned in unison as their linked bodies pleasured each other. She clawed at his broad back. He caught her hands and pinioned them over her head, struggling to propel himself deeper.
'Put your legs about me, you eager little bitch,' he growled into her ear, and without hesitation, she did, using her wrapped limbs to lever herself forward and sink her teeth into his shoulder. He yelped, but continued pistoning her.
She couldn't… she couldn't fight him any longer. She fell back gasping like a fish out of water, drawing great gulps of air into her lungs even as she felt herself shoved up to the heights of a frenzy of heated passion that burst over her and then receded, leaving her weakened, and helpless. 'Ohh, God!'
