There was darkness in her. He understood at least some of this darkness for he'd seen it himself, he'd seen the results of it. Hell, he was the victim of it as well as she was. As for himself, the patches of pain and uncertainty that had come as they must to every man had been few. He'd been lucky and he knew it and he thought about it now, starkly. Everything was different and he perforce must also be different because of what he had done and of what she was and what he wanted her to become and be to him.
She still slept. He eased up until he was on his elbow and could look down at her. Her hair was tangled about her head, wild on the pillow, her face blotchy from her crying and she looked beautiful to him. This girl who wasn't really a beauty, not like some of the ladies he'd known so well, no she wasn't a diamond like Alex's incredibly lovely sister, Melissande, but she was impossibly beautiful to him, impossibly and inexplicably dear. He lightly ran a fingertip over her eyebrow. Slowly, she opened her eyes. She didn't move, didn't make a sound, merely looked up at him. He felt the tension building in her but ignored it.
"Good morning," he said and kissed her mouth.
She froze. He watched her eyes darken, then become carefully blank. He wouldn't tolerate it, this withdrawal from him. "Stop that, damn you. I won't hurt you again, I swear it."
"Men always hurt women."
"I admit that your experience hasn't shown you much of the other side of things. Men included."
"You hurt me two times last night. And you will do it again and again because you are the man and stronger than I am and you have the control and power and you can force me to do anything you wish to do."
"All that? Perhaps I should consider announcing my godhood." The studied lightness gave him a moment to think. The good Lord knew he needed many such moments now, with her, with this wife of his.
She shoved at him but couldn't budge him. She was panting now, and he could practically feel her urgency to get away from him. It was unnerving. It was frightening. "No, Ryder, I don't believe you. You will force me whenever you want a woman. You are
lying to me. All men lie to get what they want."
He let her go and rose to stand by the bed. "You will learn to believe me, to trust me."
She was now on the far side of the bed. She simply stared at him and he saw all her fear of him in her eyes, a damned irrational fear, and in that moment he wanted to throw her out of the window.
The irony of it didn't escape him. He wondered what the hell he was going to do now. He rang for bathwater. Once he'd dressed, he left the bedchamber, left her alone and silent, lying in bed, the covers drawn to her chin.
Sinjun said to the breakfast table at large, "I saw the Virgin Bride last night. She probably came to visit Sophie and got the wrong bedchamber. Just think," she added, turning toward her sister-in-law, "you just might get a visit from the family ghost too. She won't hurt you. She just wants to welcome you to the Sherbrooke family. She's been around for ever so long and all the past earls have written about her."
"Be quiet about that damned ghost," this earl said. "There is no ghost, Sophie. The brat has a very active imagination. Ignore her."
"A real ghost? You're not jesting?" Jeremy whispered so that just Sinjun heard him. He wasn't about to disagree with the Earl of Northcliffe.
"Yes, I'll tell you all about her. Later, when we go riding."
"I've never seen her," Ryder said, setting down his coffee cup. He took a bite of egg, looked at his wife, and winked at her. "Perhaps she'll visit us. Would you like that?"
"A ghost. Yes, I would. Who is she?"
"A young lady whose husband was killed before they could consummate their marriage," Ryder said. "Sixteenth century, I believe. She has long, very blond hair and all the filmy trappings, so Sinjun tells us. Evidently she appears only to the women of the family."
Alex opened her mouth then shut it.
"The Earls of Northcliffe write about her, as I said," Sinjun said. "It is too bad of Douglas—he refuses to hear about her, and more than that, he swears he won't pen a word about her."
The earl harrumphed and gave a stern look to his wife, who was now studiously separating the kippers on her plate. He said to the table at large, "We must have a ball or something equally formal so that Sophie can be introduced to the neighborhood. In the meanwhile Alex will take you about, Sophie, to meet our more illustrious neighbors."
"Will Tony and Melissande come?"
"Doubtless they will, Sinjun," Alex said. She continued to Sophie, "Melissande is my sister. She's incredibly beautiful and she married Tony Parrish, Viscount Rathmore. He is Douglas and Ryder's first cousin. You will enjoy both of them. Perhaps Tysen can come from Oxford as well. He is the youngest of the brothers and plans to be a vicar."
The dowager countess said sharply, "She cannot go to a ball dressed in Alex's castoffs, Douglas."
"No, I quite agree. We will have that seamstress in from Rye. You know, Alex, the one who fitted you up."
Lady Lydia said to no one in particular, "Ah, dear Melissande. How I wanted her for my daughter, but Douglas wouldn't oblige me. I did have hope for you, Ryder, but Tony was impossible about the entire matter."
"Tony is married to her, ma'am," Alexandra said easily. "Besides, Tony is always impossible. It's part of his charm. You will like him immensely, Sophie, as he will you. As for Melissande, well, she is also many times vastly amusing."
Sophie stared down at the congealed eggs on her plate. All these people she didn't know and didn't care about, no more than they cared about her. Like all the men on Jamaica, Tony would probably look at her and decide she was a loose tart. She picked up a scone and nibbled on it. Conversation flowed around her. She vaguely heard more insults tossed in her general direction from her mother-in-law.
She suddenly felt him looking at her. She raised her head to see Ryder simply staring at her, his fork halfway to his mouth. What was wrong? Was there butter on her chin?
He grinned. "You look beautiful this morning, Sophie, but a bit pale. I want color in my wife's cheeks. After breakfast, change into your riding habit and I will show you this favorite place of mine. Unlike Douglas, I don't spend a lot of time striding over cliffs that could crumble beneath me. No, this is another sort of place. You will like it."
Sophie didn't imagine that she would like it at all. He likely wanted to take her to a private place and come inside her again. She hurt inside. The muscles in her thighs pulled and ached. She didn't want him near her. She said nothing.
She wanted to spend some time with Jeremy, but before she could open her mouth, Sinjun and Jeremy had risen together from the table. Sophie watched her little brother place his hand in Sinjun's and smile up at her. The two of them left the room together.
Ryder said very gently, "Sinjun is a new treat. You, my dear, are an old tale. I am pleased they do well together. You and I will fascinate Jeremy later."
She disliked his knowing what was in her mind; she disliked his logic, his reasonableness. Few men she'd ever known had been very reasonable. Ryder hadn't been reasonable either on Jamaica. He'd been cynical, utterly ruthless, and calculating as the devil. This was another side of him she didn't like, didn't want to see or to recognize.
Ryder said to his brother, "While Sophie changes into her riding clothes, would you like to join me in the estate room? I need to speak with you."
Lady Lydia took only one parting shot. "I say, my dear boy, should you like to invite the Harvestons to your ball?"
Since neither dear boy knew who it was their mother was addressing, both merely nodded, Douglas wincing and Ryder wanting to curse.
"The Harvestons, of course, have three beautiful daughters," Lady Lydia said. "They are just returned from a visit to American relatives in Boston." She added, a sapient eye on Sophie, "I don't like this at all."
"I don't either, ma'am," Sophie said, tossed her napkin on her plate, and pushed back her chair before Jamieson, a footman, could assist her. What her mother-in-law had meant, o
f course, was that she didn't like Sophie, who was a nobody, in her mind.
"Take your time changing, Sophie," Alex called after her. "Douglas and Ryder probably have a lot to discuss. It's been a long time and they're very close, you know."
In the estate room, Douglas was sitting behind his desk, watching his brother pace the length of the room. They were silent for moments.
"She's a charming girl," Douglas said.
"Yes, she is."
"She doesn't behave at all like a bride. She spent most of her time before you arrived alone. She is also unhappy."
Ryder paused in his pacing long enough to curse.
"I had believed her homesick at first, but that isn't it at all."
"No."
"Last night—it surprised me. Quite took me aback. I was on my way to the kitchen to fetch Alex some milk when I saw her flying down the corridor, her face pale as her skin. You don't have to tell me anything, Ryder. But I would help if I could. Is it because of something you've done that she is unhappy? Did she find out about all of your women? Did you hurt her? Is she jealous?"
"It is because of a lot of things. Thank you for taking such good care of her until I came home. I do wish Mother would control what comes out of her mouth, but I suppose it isn't to be expected."
"No. She will come around eventually. If she becomes too outrageous I will simply threaten to move her to the dower house."
"An excellent threat."
"Exactly."
The brothers grinned at each other. Douglas said, "I was vastly surprised when your wife and her brother arrived on the doorstep. Hollis knew immediately, curse his damned hide, knew the very instant he saw her that she was quality and that she belonged here. There is another thing. At first she avoided me. I couldn't figure out why. I was polite, I was solicitous, I tried to make her welcome. Then I realized she didn't trust me. She didn't trust me as a man. That I found very curious, inexplicable really. Why is she unhappy, Ryder?"
"She's afraid of me. She was probably afraid of you too."
There was utter silence. Douglas said, clearly disbelieving, "That's utterly absurd. Why would your wife be afraid of me? I did nothing untoward. Nor have I ever known a woman to be remotely afraid of you. Why, they pursue you, they won't let you alone. All of them want to get you out of your britches."
"Things change."
"Would you like to tell me what happened in Jamaica? No, no, not about Uncle Brandon leaving you Kimberly Hall and the fiasco surrounding all that, but why exactly Sophie Stanton-Greville doesn't want to be here with you as your wife, why she ran out of your bedchamber, seemingly terrified."
"It isn't a very uplifting story, Douglas. There have been many men in her life and none of them were nice." God, he thought, what an asinine thing to say. "That is," he amended carefully, "the circumstances of Sophie and all these men weren't very nice."
"I understand perfectly. No, no, you don't have to strain yourself to be more equivocal. If you need me, Ryder, I'm here."
"Thank you, Douglas."
"The boy is delightful. Was he born with the clubfoot?"
"Yes, he was. He rides very well. Do you think he would survive at Eton?"
"Let's give him a while longer to adjust, I think."
"She hates sex. She hates me touching her."
Douglas simply looked at his brother.
"Damnation, but it's very complicated," Ryder said, and plowed his fingers through his hair, making it stand on end. "I shouldn't speak so personally about my wife. The thing is she doesn't want me, never did want me. I manipulated her into marrying me. Can you imagine that? Me being the one to want to marry? Me, forcing a woman to marry me? But I did it and I'm not sorry for it. She didn't want to marry any man."
Douglas waited, saying nothing, until finally, "This is passing strange. If you wish to speak more about it, I'm always here. Now, I must tell you—Emily had twins. Unfortunately neither of them survived. She is looking forward to seeing you. She said something Hollis didn't completely understand, something about it being better this way because it wasn't fair, that she hadn't wanted to do this to you."
"I will see her as soon as I can."
"Do you understand what she meant?"
Ryder simply shrugged and looked out the window.
Douglas picked up a singularly beautiful black onyx paperweight and tossed it from one hand to the other. "I suppose you've decided what to do about all your women and your children."
"Yes, I've given it a lot of thought. There wasn't much else to do coming home."
"What, no available ladies on board ship?"
Ryder gave him an austere look.
"Just remember, Ryder, your life before you married Sophie was yours and you were free to do whatever pleased you. As was mine."
Ryder gave his brother a crooked smile. "I doubt she'd even care if I paraded a hundred women in front of her nose. She'd probably beg them to keep me away from her."
"One never knows about a wife, even one who appears to want to slit one's throat. Sophie just might surprise you, that is, if she does find out about all the other women."
"Ha."
Douglas pulled a sheet of foolscap out of the drawer of his desk. "Your most recent tally is seven children." He stopped, and stared at his brother. "You know all that. You've evidently decided what you will do about it."
"Yes, I have. I'm a married man now. There will be no other women."
The earl sat back in his chair. "I'm pleased you've decided to be faithful to your wife. Keeping a herd this size content would tax even the strongest man. Fidelity does have its advantages."
"I agree," Ryder said, then appeared startled at what he'd said. "I can't believe that I agree, but I do. Wanting only one woman is a startling revelation. But I want Sophie and only Sophie. Good Lord, it's rather unbelievable, I know, but there it is."
"For what it's worth, I've also discovered that a wife is very precious. A wife is beyond anything I had ever imagined in my life."
"Alex is a good sort. I'm relieved you worked things out."
"Oh, we did and therein lies a tale. Some long night this winter I'll tell you about it. It certainly would be more enlivening than writing about that damned ghost, the Virgin Bride." The earl rose. "I would say, old man, that you have quite a task ahead of you. On the other hand, nothing of true importance should come easily."
"I already appreciate her, if that's what you're getting at. It's odd but I truly do. She's important to me, more important than you can begin to imagine. You told me once that I thrived on challenges, the higher the stakes, the better I did. I won't lose this one, Douglas. I can't."
"You love her, then."
'You spout nonsense, Douglas. Love—a notion that makes me want to puke. No, pray don't go on and on about how much you adore and worship Alex—I see quite clearly that you're besotted with her. But love? Don't get me wrong. I like Sophie, certainly. I want her and she makes me feel things I've never felt before. I want her to be happy. I want her to realize that for whatever reason, she is important to me. There's nothing more to it than that and, indeed, that's quite enough. She's got me for life."
Douglas simply looked at his brother, a very black eyebrow arched upward a good inch.
"You haven't seen her as I did on Jamaica. You think her unhappy, a quiet mouse, no doubt. She's a hellion, Douglas. I wanted to tame her, wanted to make her submit to me." He shook his head and began pacing again. "I wish the hellion would come back." He grinned. "She was a handful and a more mouthy chit you'd never meet."
Douglas still just looked at his brother.
Sophie was smiling like an idiot, she couldn't help it. Her own mare, Opal, was here at Northcliffe, brought back from Jamaica by Ryder. She leaned over and patted her mare's long neck.
"Ah, I have missed you," she said, and threw back her head, letting her mare gallop ahead. She'd thanked Ryder, too shocked at what he'd done to really show him how much she appreciated it. He wa
sn't acting like himself again. It was disturbing, this kindness of his, this seemingly endless understanding and gentleness.
Ryder had shrugged and said only, "She would have eaten her head off if I'd left her at Camille Hall. She was fat and lazy and gave me these woeful looks every time I saw her. She neighed all the time I was around and soon it sounded remarkably like your name. What was I to do?"
And she'd said only, once again, "Thank you."
Ryder rode beside her, pleased at her pleasure, knowing that he'd surprised her but good. She owed him. He wondered how she would proceed to repay him, for repay him she would. He knew her well enough to know that she'd see this as a debt.
When she sent her mare into a gallop, he let her go ahead of him down the narrow country lane that bordered the northern boundaries of Northcliffe land. He slowed his own stallion, Genesis, a raw-boned barb who was black as sin and had the endurance of twenty Portuguese mules.
He began whistling. He was home, the day was glorious, warm, the sun bright overhead, and he'd pleased his wife. Things were looking up. He knew what he was going to do about his women and the solution was sound. As for his children, it was simply a matter of telling Sophie about them at the right time. He missed them. He would go see them all tomorrow. He'd brought back gifts for all of them.
Sophie rounded a narrow bend in the road and pulled over under the shade of an immense oak tree, old as the chalk cliffs just some miles to the south. She drew in a deep breath and realized she felt good. Ryder was behaving in a very civilized manner. Except for the previous night. That was reminiscent of the arrogant, utterly ruthless man she'd known on Jamaica. Perhaps today he'd realize that she didn't want him to touch her again, perhaps he'd simply be nice to her and remain civilized. She frowned.