"You don't have to bribe Tristan's people to accept you. You'll be their marchioness."
She added flour to the mixture, dumping half of it onto her shaky hands in the process. "Chase women always bring sweets."
"Tomorrow will be a big day for you. For God's sake, go to bed. If you truly feel a need to bring something, you can ask François to make it in the morning."
Not bad advice, except she was too excited—and nervous—to sleep. "We missed you at dinner," she said, changing the subject. "And afterwards." As he walked closer, she blinked and set down the bowl. "What on earth happened to your face?"
He touched it gingerly. "Your soon-to-be-husband happened to it," he informed her dryly.
"Tris? Whyever would he hit you?"
"Perhaps because I hit him first?" He looked around the cavernous kitchen. "Is there anything to eat in here besides raw biscuit dough? We just finished installing the pump. It works beautifully, but I'm about to expire from starvation."
"And Tris?"
"Said he's not hungry. Went straight to bed."
"I meant, does he look like you?"
"Not much." He crossed to where François had left out some bowls covered with cloths. "His hair is lighter, and his eyes—"
"Griffin!" Walking over, she playfully punched him on the shoulder with a flour-coated fist.
"Ouch!" He waved at the white powder flying in the air. "I hurt everywhere, so keep your hands off."
"How much did you hurt him? Will I have to keep my hands off my husband as well?"
Her brother's face flushed red beneath the bruises. "I prefer not to discuss you touching that man at all. Or any man, for that matter." He rooted in a bowl of fruit and came out with an apple. "But, you know," he added, polishing it on his grimy shirt, "I think I'm just as happy you've been ruined. Saves me from having to explain all about the wedding night."
"I wasn't ruined, Griffin."
"What?" He bit into the fruit with a juicy crunch. "Of course you were ruined. Why else would I marry you to someone completely unsuitable?"
"Don't talk with food in your mouth." She dabbed at his chin with a dish towel, wincing in sympathy when he winced. "In society's eyes, yes, I was ruined. But not in truth."
He swallowed this time before responding. "What do you mean?"
"Nothing really happened in my bed." Perhaps that was an understatement, but the gist of it was true. "Tris kissed me and touched me, but that was all. Mostly we just talked. And then we fell asleep."
The apple sat forgotten in Griffin's hand. "You just talked," he said. "Naked."
Heat flooded her face. "Well, our clothes came off while Tris was still asleep. He took them off, I mean, while I was half-asleep. But after we both awakened…yes, we just talked." Turning away, she started putting dollops of batter on one of the two pans she'd prepared. "You believe me, don't you?"
"I'm not certain I do. I have never in my life just talked to a naked woman."
"I'm so glad to hear that," she said toward the biscuits.
She heard the crunch of another bite. "Why?"
"Because, being unmarried as you are, I wasn't precisely sure you had experience. In matters pertaining to the bedroom, I mean. But I'm glad that you do, because that means you'll be able to explain everything to me." Hearing choking sounds, she turned to him. "Are you all right?"
He nodded wildly. She wondered whether his red face was a result of the choking, the bruising, his embarrassment at her request, or all three. Since there was nothing she could do about the second two, she just waited for him to stop choking before she continued.
"You will explain what will happen on my wedding night, won't you? Because I'm dreadfully nervous." She couldn't help wishing Tris had finished what he'd started, because then she'd know. "I think I'll stay up all night making coriander biscuits if you don't tell me what will happen."
"Can I have some of that Madeira first?" He gestured toward the open bottle.
"Certainly." She handed it to him, looking around for a glass.
"Don't bother," he said and drank directly from the bottle.
She watched him take several gulps. "Madeira should be sipped," she said as tactfully as she could.
He chugged another swallow and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Oh, yes?" Avoiding her gaze, he took a deep breath. "You see, there are birds, and then there are bees, and—"
She laughed. "You don't have to start there, you goose. Mama taught me all of that. Didn't she explain it to you?"
"Father did. When I woke one night in a wet bed."
"What?"
"Never mind." He raised the bottle again, but took a more normal sip this time.
"Were you twelve? I was twelve when I started bleeding, and—"
"Stop," he ordered, holding up his free hand. He took a bigger swallow, then set the bottle on the table with a thunk. "Men don't care to hear of those female things."
"No?"
"No. You'd best keep that in mind for the future. And if Mother told you everything, what the devil do you need to hear from me?"
"I want to know what will happen on my wedding night." She turned back to the table, placing more dollops of batter on the second pan. "Mama told me the basics, that the man plants his seed in the woman. And I know about the body parts it takes to accomplish that. But how? I've seen horses—"
"It's not like horses," Griffin interjected quickly. "You will do it face-to-face."
"Oh." That alone was somewhat of a relief. "We'll be able to kiss, then."
"Yes."
"Excellent. I like kissing."
"I don't want to hear this." He took another swallow.
"What will happen, Griffin? Tell me."
He set down the bottle again. "He will probably leave you alone to change into
