Pendragon

these pesky things a wife shouldn't do that would irritate her husband. Do you think that would assist you into whipping me into shape?'

'It isn't a very long list.'

'A list for the goose. How about a list for the gander as well? Yes, a list is a very good idea. I shall prepare it for you immediately. Then we can trade lists. I certainly know what will be the very top item on the list. Enough respect for your wife so that you don't maul her.'

He had mauled her. It hadn't begun that way, but that's the way it had ended. Didn't she remember what she'd done, what she'd bleated out to her father? Damnation. He said, 'As for mauling, that is quite absurd. I was merely overeager, that's all, perhaps a bit over the edge, a bit out of control. As for the second time, perhaps that also was a bit too much, but it happened, it's over, and you will forget about it.' He held up his hand. 'No, don't say anything. You are quite good at forgetting things, it seems, so you may forget this as well.'

'What have I ever forgotten? Come, tell me. Ah, you can't. The truth is that I'm a veritable elephant, I simply never forget a single thing. You must fish in another stream, Thomas.'

'Stop your damned wit, Meggie. Listen to me, I was rough but I really didn't mean to be. Everything was just too much, nothing more, just too much.'

'What reason could you possibly have to maul your bride on her wedding night?'

'I told you, I don't wish to speak of it again. I didn't mean to hurt you. I am sorry for that. Now, you will forget it.'

'Gone? Just like that? Very well.' Meggie snapped her fingers.

He stared at her, wondering what was in that frighteningly active brain of hers now.

She said, 'Actually I would like to ask you a question, Thomas.'

A question? He didn't want a question, but he couldn't very well clap his hand over her mouth and leave it there. He nodded, unwillingly.

Meggie opened her mouth, then closed it. No, now wasn't the time. She'd told him how she felt. It was enough. She said, 'Still, I was wondering if perhaps all men fly out of control on their wedding nights. You know, they've been forced to contain themselves for such a very long time, controlling all their base desires, that when they finally have the right to open the door, so to speak, they can't help themselves? They just fly right through, not pausing to perhaps even turn the doorknob?'

'That makes no sense.'

She sighed. 'Of course it does. You just don't like to see yourself in this light.'

'I don't wish to speak of it. No more.'

And she snapped her fingers again. She said, 'It is odd. Mrs. Miggs told me I wouldn't feel at all well this morning, what with all the champagne, but she was wrong. Will you please leave, my lord? I wish to bathe and dress. Oh my, I should have respectfully inquired about your plans, which must, perforce, be mine as well since I am the adjunct here. Do you intend that we leave this morning?''

'Yes, as soon as you are able.'

'Ah, do you also have plans that aren't any of my business?'

'We are on our wedding trip. Now, you will cease your ridiculous anger. A wife should not be angry with her husband.'

'That is on the list?'

'Among other things.'

'Go away, my lord. Go take a strap to one of the horses.'

'How much champagne did you drink?'

'Enough to want to play a fiddle and perhaps dance a bit with Mrs. Miggs. Enough to forget that I wanted to kill you. In any case, even drunk, I realized I would be hanged if I did you in, and that would be distressing to my father. Hmmm. Since I can't ask my father about this, perhaps the next time I see Jeremy, I can inquire about this door business and a husband blasting through it on his wedding night.'

He went pale, then red to his hairline with rage. 'You will not speak of him further, do you understand me? Oh yes, I would be more distressed than your father if you killed me.'

'No, you would be dead and not feel a thing.'

She simply didn't know that he'd overheard her and her father, so how could she possibly know why he was so damned angry? Maybe that was a good thing. He said, 'You honestly feel fine now?'

'I feel ready to take on the world. I feel more than ready to take you on, my lord.'

'I am your husband. My name is Thomas. A wife doesn't take on a husband, if you mean by that to start an argument with him.'

She realized they'd done nothing but argue since he'd shown himself in the doorway. She said slowly, 'Actually, I was thinking about hitting you in the nose.'

He said nothing to that, very wise of him to keep quiet, she thought. He believed in some self- preservation.

She looked at him a moment, wrapped his dressing gown more closely about her, then said slowly, 'Actually, I feel very sore between my legs. Does a man regard that as an accomplishment, something he's expected to do on his wedding night?'

'Since you are not riding, you will be fine by evening. It is nothing. There is no accomplishment here. Last night simply happened. Don't speak of it again.'

'You are an expert then. You have done this particular business many times, at least enough times to know that my pain was and is a mere bagatelle. I don't suppose you experienced any distress from your splendid performance last night?'

He shook his head, but he was lying, of course. When he had broken her maidenhead, he'd wanted to scream at her and howl from the intense pleasure that filled him.

'I see. So you didn't realize what you were doing? Neither the first time nor the second time? You didn't hurt me either time on purpose?'

'Be quiet, Meggie. It's over.'

She looked up at the ceiling. 'God is letting me down here.'

'Sometimes God forgives actions when they are justified.'

'Whatever that means. Would you care to clarify that a bit?'

'I don't wish to discuss it further.'

'Yes, yes, don't mention anything a husband might find thorny. I must relieve myself. Go away.'

He looked as if he would say more, but he didn't, just turned and closed the door quietly behind him.

'Thomas.'

At the sound of his name, he turned slowly.

She'd poked her head out the door. 'Here.' She threw his dressing gown to him.

She closed the door, leaned against it, covering her bare breasts with her hands, and sighed. She saw that he had indeed washed most the blood out of her nightgown. She folded the nightgown into a small square and stuffed it into her valise. She planned to look at it quite often, a reminder that expectations were quite different from reality.

She was downstairs within the hour, her bonnet ribbons tied beside her left ear, her pale green muslin morning dress, freshly pressed by Ann, one of Mrs. Miggs's daughters, and Mrs. Miggs herself assisted Meggie to dress, marveling over and over how splendidly hard Meggie's head was when the good Lord knew she should be moaning this morning, still in bed, the covers pulled over her head.

Meggie assured Mrs. Miggs that she felt dandy. As a matter of fact, she looked young and fresh and very innocent. She smiled when she said good-bye to Mrs. Miggs and heard the lady say into her ear as she hugged her, 'Do not kill him. You would hang and I would be unhappy. If I were unhappy, then Mr. Miggs would be unhappy as well because I would see that he was. Not as unhappy as your family, but still, there would be some active discomfort.'

'No, I won't kill him, even though he refused to answer any questions. No, I have other plans for the clod,' Meggie said, gave her another quick hug, saw her new husband's dark eyebrow raised at this affection between his wife and the innkeeper, and helped her into the carriage.