Seduction

THREE

Midway through the second week of her honeymoon on Julian's Norfolk estate, Sophy began to fear that she had married a man who had a serious problem with his after-dinner port.

Up until that point she had tentatively begun to enjoy her wedding trip. Eslington Park was situated against a serene backdrop of wooded knolls and lush pasture lands. The house itself was stolid and dignified in the classically inspired Palladian tradition that had been fashionable during the last century.

There was an aging, heavy feel to the interior but Sophy thought there was hope for the well-proportioned rooms with their tall windows. She looked forward to doing some redecorating.

In the meantime she had gloried in daily rides with Julian during which they explored the woods, meadows, and rich farmlands he had recently acquired. He had introduced her to his newly appointed steward, John Fleming, and seemed positively grateful when Sophy took no offense at the long hours he spent plotting the future of Eslington Park with the earnest young man.

Julian had also taken pains to introduce Sophy, as well as himself, to all the tenants on the property. He had seemed pleased when Sophy had admired sheep and assorted specimens of agricultural produce with a knowledgeable eye. There are some advantages to being country-bred, Sophy privately decided. At least such a woman had something intelligent to say to a husband who obviously had a love for the land.

More than once Sophy found herself wondering if Julian would ever develop a similar love for his new bride.

The tenants and neighbors had been in suspense awaiting the arrival of their new lord. But after Julian had accompanied several of the farmers into barns with total disregard for the polish on his elegant riding boots, the word went around that the new master of Eslington knew what he was about when it came to farming and sheep raising.

Sophy was readily accepted after she had cooed over a few plump babies, frowned in deep concern over a few sick ones, and held several learned discussions on the subject of the use of local herbs in home remedies. More than once Julian had been obliged to wait patiently while his wife exchanged a recipe for a cough syrup or a digestive aid with a farmer's wife.

He seemed to find it amusing to remove bits of straw from Sophy's hair after she had emerged from the close confines of a small cottage.

"You are going to make me a fine wife, Sophy," he had remarked with satisfaction during the third day of such visiting. "I chose well this time."

Sophy had hugged her pleasure at his words to herself and managed a laughing smile. "By that remark, I collect you mean I have the potential to become a good farmer's wife?"

"When all is said and done, that is precisely what I am, Sophy. A farmer." He had looked out over the landscape with the pride of a man who knows he owns everything he sees. "And a good farm wife will suit me well."

"You speak as if I will someday become this paragon," she had pointed out softly. "I would remind you that I am already your wife."

He had flashed her the devil's own smile. "Not yet, my sweet, but soon. Much sooner than you had planned."

The staff at Eslington Park was well trained and commendably efficient, although Sophy privately winced when servants nearly tripped over their own feet endeavoring to anticipate Julian's orders. They were obviously wary of their new master, although simultaneously proud to serve such an important man.

They had heard the rumors of his quick, ruthless temper from the coachman, groom, valet, and lady's maid who had accompanied Lord and Lady Ravenwood to Eslington, however, and were taking no chances.

All in all, the honeymoon was going quite well. The only thing that had marred her stay in Norfolk as far as Sophy was concerned was the subtle, but deliberate, pressure Julian was applying in the evenings. It was beginning to make her quite nervous.

It was obvious Julian did not intend to stay out of her bed for the next three months. He fully expected to be able to seduce her long before the stipulated time had passed.

Until the point when she had begun to notice his growing fondness for port after dinner, Sophy had been fairly certain she could handle the situation. The trick was to control her own responses to his increasingly intimate good-night kisses. If she could manage that she was quite convinced Julian would honor the letter, if not the spirit of his word. She sensed instinctively his pride would not allow him to sink to the level of using force to gain access to her bed.

But the increasing consumption of port worried her. It added a new and dangerous element to an already tense situation. She remembered all too well the night her sister Amelia had returned from one of her secret assignations and tearfully explained that a gentleman in his cups was capable of violent language and bestial behavior. Amelia's soft white arms had been marked with bruises that night. Sophy had been furious and demanded once more to know the name of Amelia's lover. Amelia had again refused to say.

"Have you told this fine lover of yours that Dorrings have been Ravenwood neighbors for generations? If Grandfather finds out what is happening, he will go straight to Lord Ravenwood and see that a stop is put to this nonsense!

Amelia sniffed back more tears. I have made certain my dear love does not know who my grandfather is for that very reason. Oh, Sophy, don't you understand? I am afraid that if my sweet love discovers I am a Dorring and thus a granddaughter of such a close neighbor of Ravenwood, he will not take the chance of meeting me again."

"You would let your lover abuse you rather than tell him who you are?" Sophy had asked incredulously.

"You do not know what it is to love," Amelia had whispered and then she had sobbed herself to sleep.

Amelia had been wrong, Sophy knew. She did know what it was to love but she was trying to deal with the dangers of the emotion in a more intelligent manner than her poor sister had done. She would not make Amelia's mistakes.

Sophy silently endured the growing anxiety over the matter of Julian's port consumption for several tense evenings before she broached the subject of his heavy drinking.

"Do you have trouble sleeping, my lord?" she finally inquired during the second week of her marriage. They were seated before the fire in the crimson drawing room. Julian had just helped himself to another large glass of port.

He regarded her with hooded eyes. "Why do you ask?"

"Forgive me, but I cannot help but notice that your taste for port is increasing in the evenings. People frequently use sherry or port or claret to aid them in getting to sleep. Are you accustomed to imbibing so much at night?"

He drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair and considered her for a long moment. "No," he finally said and drank half of his port in one gulp. "It disturbs you?"

Sophy focused her attention on her embroidery. "If you are having trouble sleeping there are more efficacious remedies. Bess taught me many of them."

"Are you proposing to dose me with laudanum?"

"No. Laudanum is effective but I would not resort to it as a remedy for poor sleep unless other tonics had failed. If you like I can prepare a mixture of herbs for you to try. I brought my medicine chest with me."

"Thank you, Sophy. I believe I shall continue to rely on my port. I understand it and it understands me."

Sophy's brows rose inquiringly. "What is there to understand, my lord?"

"Do you wish me to be blunt, Madam Wife?"

"Of course." She was surprised at such a question. "You know I prefer free and open conversation between us. You are the one who occasionally experiences difficulty in discussing certain matters, not I."

"I give you fair warning, this is not a matter you will care to discuss."

"Nonsense. If you are having difficulty sleeping, I am certain there is a better cure than port."

"On that we agree. The question, my dear, is whether you are willing to provide the cure."

The lazy, taunting quality of his voice brought her head up swiftly. She found herself looking straight into his glittering green gaze. And suddenly she understood.

"I see," she managed to say calmly. "I had not realized our agreement would cause you such physical discomfort, my lord."

"Now that you are aware of it, would you care to consider releasing me from my bond?"

A length of embroidery floss snapped in her hand. Sophy glanced down at the dangling threads. "I thought everything was going rather well, my lord," she said distantly.

"I know you did. You have been enjoying yourself here at Eslington Park, haven't you, Sophy?"

"Very much, my lord."

"Well, so have I. In certain respects. But in other respects, I am finding this honeymoon extremely tiresome." He tossed off the remainder of the port. "Damned tiresome. The fact is, our situation is unnatural, Sophy."

She sighed with deep regret. "I suppose this means you would prefer that we cut short our honeymoon?"

The empty crystal glass snapped between his fingers. Julian swore and dusted the delicate shards from his hands. "It means," he stated grimly, "that I would like to make this a normal marriage. It is my duty as well as my pleasure to insist that we do so."

"Are you so very anxious to get on with producing your heir?"

"I am not thinking about my future heir at the moment. I am thinking about the current Earl of Ravenwood. I am also thinking about the present Countess of Ravenwood. The chief reason you are not suffering as I am, Sophy, is because you do not yet know what you are missing."

Sophy's temper flared. "You need not be so odiously condescending, my lord. I am a country girl, remember? I have been raised around animals all my life and I have been called in to help with the birthing of a babe or two in my time. I am well aware of what goes on between husband and wife and, to be truthful, I do not believe I am missing anything terribly elevating."

"It is not intended to be an intellectual exercise, madam. It is a physical pursuit."

"Like riding a horse? If you don't mind my saying so, it sounds rather less rewarding. At least when one rides a horse, one accomplishes something useful such as arriving at a given destination."

"Perhaps it is time you learned what sort of destination awaits you in the bedchamber, my dear."

Julian was on his feet, reaching for her before Sophy quite realized what was happening. He snatched her embroidery from her fingers and tossed it aside. Then his arms went around her and he dragged her close against him. She knew when she looked up into his intent face that this would not be just one more of the coaxing, persuasive good-night kisses she had been receiving lately.

Alarmed, Sophy pushed at his shoulders. "Stop it, Julian. I have told you I do not wish to be seduced."

"I'm beginning to think it's my duty to seduce you. This damned agreement of yours is too hard on me, little one. Have pity on your poor husband. I shall undoubtedly expire from sheer frustration if I am obliged to wait out the three months. Sophy, stop fighting me.

"Julian, please—"

"Hush, my sweet." His thumb moved along the edge of her soft mouth, tracing the contours. "I gave you my word I would not force you and I will keep my oath even if it kills me. But I have a right to try to change your mind and that, by God, is exactly what I intend to do. I've given you ten days to get used to the idea of being married to me. That is nine days longer than any other man would have allowed in this situation.

His mouth came down on hers with sudden, fierce demand. Sophy had been right. This was not another of the gentle assaults on her senses that she had grown to expect in the evenings. This kiss was hot and deliberately overpowering. She could feel Julian's tongue sliding boldly into her mouth. For a moment a heavy, drugging warmth surged through Sophy. Then she tasted the port on his breath and instinctively she started to struggle.

"Be still," Julian muttered, soothing her with a long, stroking movement of his big palm down her spine. "Just be still and let me kiss you. That's all I want at the moment. I intend to remove a few of your ridiculous fears."

"I am not afraid of you," she protested quickly, keenly aware of the strength in his hands. "I simply do not care to have the privacy of my bedchamber invaded yet by a man who is still very much a stranger to me."

"We are no longer strangers, Sophy. We are husband and wife and it's time we became lovers."

His mouth closed over hers again and her protests were cut off. Julian kissed her deeply, thoroughly, imprinting himself on her until Sophy was trembling with reaction. As always when he held her in his arms like this she felt breathless and strangely weak. When his hands moved lower, gripping her and forcing her up against his body, she felt the hardness in him and it made her flinch.

"Julian?" She looked up at him, wide-eyed.

"What did you expect?" He smiled wickedly. "A man is no different than any other farm animal. You claim to be an expert on the subject."

"My lord, this is hardly a matter of putting a ewe and a ram together in the same pen."

"I am glad you appreciate the difference."

He refused to let her ease away from him. Instead, he cupped her buttocks in his two large hands and urged her even closer to the bulging hardness of his thighs.

Sophy's head whirled as she felt the unmistakable shape of his swollen manhood pushing against her softness. Her skirts swirled around his leg, caught, and clung to his calves. He widened his stance and she found herself trapped between his legs.

"Sophy, little one, Sophy, my sweet, let me make love to you. It's only right." The urgent plea was punctuated with small, persuasive kisses that traced the line of her jaw and traveled down her throat to her bare shoulder.

Sophy could not respond. She felt as if she were being swept out to sea on a mighty, surging tide. She had loved Julian from afar for too long. The temptation to surrender to the sensuous warmth that he engendered in her was almost overwhelming. Unconsciously her arms went around his neck and she parted her lips invitingly. He had taught her much about kissing during the past few days.

Julian needed no second invitation. He took her lips again with a low groan of satisfaction. This time his hand moved under her breast and he cupped her gently, his thumb searching out the nipple beneath the muslin bodice.

Sophy did not hear the drawing room door open behind her but she did hear the apologetic gasp of dismay and the sound of the door closing again very quickly. Julian lifted his head to glare over the top of her curls and the spell was broken.

Sophy blushed as she realized one of the servants had witnessed the passionate kiss. She stepped back hurriedly and Julian let her go, smiling slightly at her disheveled appearance. She put her hand to her hair and found it in far worse than its usual disarray. Several curls were tumbling down around her ears and the ribbon her maid had tied so carefully before dinner had come loose. It dangled down the nape of her neck.

"I… Excuse me, my lord. I must go upstairs. Everything has come undone." She whirled and flew to the door.

"Sophy." There was a clink of glass on glass.

"Yes, my lord?" She paused, her hand on the doorknob, and glanced back warily.

Julian was standing by the fire, his arm resting casually along the white marble mantle. He had a fresh glass of port in his hand. Sophy was more alarmed than ever when she saw the masculine satisfaction in his eyes. His mouth was curved tenderly but the smile did little to alleviate the familiar arrogance radiating from him. He was very sure of himself now, very confident.

"Seduction is not such a fearful thing, after all, is it, my sweet? You are going to enjoy yourself and I think you have had sufficient time to realize that."

Was this what it had been like for poor Amelia? A complete devastation of the senses?

Unaware of what she was doing, Sophy touched her lower lip with the tip of her finger. "Kisses such as the ones you just gave me are your idea of seduction, my lord?"

He inclined his head, his eyes flaring with amusement. "I hope you enjoy them, Sophy, because there will be many more such kisses to come. Beginning tonight. Go on upstairs to bed, my dear. I will join you shortly. I am going to seduce you into granting me a proper wedding night. Believe me, my love, you will thank me tomorrow morning for putting an end to this entirely unnatural situation you have created. And I will take great pleasure in accepting your gratitude."

Fury surged through Sophy, mingling with the other heady emotions that were already coursing through her. She was suddenly so violently angry she could not even speak. Instead, she jerked open the heavy mahogany doors and dashed across the hall to the stairs.

She stormed into her bedchamber a few minutes later and startled her maid who was busy turning down the bed.

"My lady! Is somethin' wrong?"

Sophy took a grip on her anger and her reeling senses. She was breathing much too quickly. "No, no, Mary. Nothing is wrong. I took the stairs too quickly, that's all. Please help me with my dress."

"Certainly, ma'am." Mary, a bright-eyed young girl in her late teens who was thrilled with her recent promotion to the status of lady's maid, came forward to assist her mistress in undressing. She handled the embroidered muslin gown with reverent care.

"I think I would like a pot of tea before bedtime, Mary. Would you please have one sent up?"

"At once, my lady."

"Oh, and Mary, have two cups put on the tray." Sophy took a deep breath. "The Earl will be joining me.

Mary's eyes widened with approval but she wisely held her tongue as she helped Sophy into a chintz dressing gown. "I'll have the tea up here straight away, ma'am. Oh, that reminds me. One of the housemaids is complainin' of her stomach. She thinks it's somethin' she ate. She was wantin' to know if I'd ask your advice."

"What? Oh, yes, of course." Sophy turned toward her chest of dried herbs and quickly filled a small packet with a selection that included powdered licorice and rhubarb. "Take these to her and tell her to mix two pinches of each into a cup of tea. That should settle her stomach. If she is not any better by morning, be sure to let me know."

"Thank you, ma'am. Alice will be ever so grateful. She suffers a lot from a nervous stomach, I hear. By the by, Allan the footman says to tell you his sore throat is much better thanks to that honey and brandy syrup you had Cook prepare for him."

"Excellent, excellent, I'm glad to hear it," Sophy said impatiently. The last thing she wanted to discuss tonight was Allan the footman's sore throat. "Now, Mary, please hurry with that tea, will you?"

"Yes, ma'am." Mary scurried out of the room.

Sophy began to pace the floor, her soft slippers making no sound on the dark, patterned carpet. She barely noticed the bit of lace trim that had come loose from the lapel of her dressing gown and was dangling over one breast.

The overbearing, unspeakably arrogant man she had married thought he had only to touch her and she would succumb to his expertise. He would badger her and pester her and otherwise keep after her until he had his way with her. She knew that now. Bedding her was obviously a matter of masculine pride to him.

Sophy was beginning to realize she would get no peace until Julian had proven himself her master in the privacy of the bedchamber. There was little chance to work on the harmonious relationship she dreamed of while Julian was concentrating only on seducing her.

Sophy halted her pacing abruptly, wondering if the Earl of Ravenwood would be satisfied with a single night of conquest. Julian was not, after all, in love with her. At the moment apparently she constituted a challenge because she was his wife and she was refusing him the privileges he considered rightfully his. But if he thought he'd finally proven to both of them he could seduce her, perhaps he would leave her alone for a while.

Sophy went quickly to her beautifully carved medicine chest and stood looking down at the rows of tiny wooden trays and drawers. She was simmering with rage and fear and another emotion she did not want to examine too closely. There was not much time. In a few minutes Julian would come sauntering through the door that connected her bedchamber with his dressing room. And then he would take her into his arms and touch her the way he touched his little ballet dancer or actress or whatever she was.

Mary opened the door and came into the bedchamber carrying a silver tray. "Your tea, ma'am. Will there be anythin' else?"

"No, thank you, Mary. You may go." Sophy managed what she hoped was a normal smile of dismissal but Mary's eyes seemed brighter than ever as she bobbed a small curtsy and let herself out of the room. Sophy was sure she heard a muffled giggle out in the hall.

Servants seem to know everything that goes on in a large house such as this , Sophy thought resentfully. It was quite possible her maid knew perfectly well that Julian had never spent the night in his wife's bed. That thought was rather mortifying in some ways.

Fleetingly, Sophy wondered if part of Julian's irritation had to do with the fact that he knew the entire staff was speculating on why he was not visiting his new bride in her bedroom.

Sophy hardened her heart. She was not about to turn aside from her goal merely for the sake of Julian's male pride. He had more than enough of that commodity as it was. She reached into the herb chest and took a pinch of chamomile and a pinch of something far more potent. Deftly she stirred them into the pot of brewing tea.

Then she sat down to wait. She had to sit down. She was trembling so much she could not stand.

She did not have long to anticipate the inevitable. The connecting door opened softly and Sophy gave a start. Her eyes went to the doorway. Julian stood there in a black silk dressing gown that was embroidered with the Ravenwood crest. He regarded her with a quizzical little smile.

"You are entirely too nervous, little one," he said gently as he closed the door behind him. "This is what comes of putting matters off for far too long. You have built the whole business into an event of terrifying proportions. By tomorrow morning you will be able to put everything back into its proper perspective."

"I would like to beg you one last time, Julian, not to pursue this any further. I must tell you again that I feel you are breaking the spirit, if not the letter of your oath."

His smile vanished and his gaze hardened. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his gown and began to prowl slowly around her room. "We will not discuss my honor again. I assure you, it is an important matter to me and I would not do anything I felt would tarnish it."

"You have your own definition of honor, then?"

He gave her an angry glance. "I know far better how to define it than you do, Sophy."

"I lack the ability to define it properly because I am merely a woman?"

He relaxed, the faint smile edging his grim mouth again. "You are not merely a woman, my love. You are a most interesting female, believe me. I did not dream when I asked for your hand in marriage that I would be getting such a fascinating concoction. Did you know that there's a bit of lace dangling from your gown?"

Sophy glanced down uneasily and was chagrined to see the lace flopping over her breast. She made one or two fruitless efforts to push it back into place and then gave up. When she raised her head she found herself looking at Julian through a lock of hair that had slipped free of its pins. Irritably she pushed it back behind her ear. She drew herself up proudly.

"Would you care for a cup of tea, my lord?"

His smile broadened indulgently and Julian's eyes became very green. "Thank you, Sophy. After all the port I allowed myself after dinner, a cup of tea would be most welcome. I would not want to fall asleep at an awkward moment. You would be quite disappointed, I'm sure."

Arrogant man, she thought as she poured the brew with shaking fingers. He was interpreting her offer of tea as a gesture of surrender, she just knew it. A moment later when she handed him the cup he accepted it the way she imagined a battlefield commander accepted the sword of the vanquished.

"What an interesting aroma. Your own mixture, Sophy?" Julian took a sip of tea and resumed prowling her room.

"Yes." The word seemed to get caught somewhere in her throat. She watched with sick fascination as he took another sip. "Chamomile and… and other flowers. It has a very soothing effect on nerves that have become somewhat over agitated."

Julian nodded absently. "Excellent. He paused in front of the little rosewood desk to study the handful of books she had carefully arranged there. "Ah, the lamentable reading material of my bluestocking bride. Let me see just how regrettable your tastes really are."

He pulled first one and then another of the leather-bound volumes off the shelf. He helped himself to a second sip of tea while he studied the engraved leather bindings. "Hm. Virgil and Aristotle in translation. Admittedly a bit overpowering for the average reader but not really all that terrible. I used to read this sort of thing myself."

"I'm glad you approve, my lord," Sophy said stiffly.

He glanced at her, amused. "Do you find me condescending, Sophy?"

"Very."

"I don't mean to be, you know. I'm merely curious about you." He replaced the classics and removed another volume. "What else have we here? Wesley's Primitive Physic? A rather dated work, is it not?"

"Still an excellent herbal, my lord. With much detail about English herbs. Grandfather gave it to me."

"Ah, yes. Herbs." He put the book down and picked up another volume. He smiled indulgently. "Well, now, I see Lord Byron's romantic nonsense has made its way into the countryside. Did you enjoy Childe Harold, Sophy?

"I found it very entertaining, my lord. What about you?"

He grinned unabashedly at the open challenge. "I'll admit I read it and I'll admit the man has a way with melodrama, but, then he comes from a long line of melodramatic fools. I fear we shall hear more from Byron's melancholy heroes."

"At least the man is not dull. I understand Lord Byron is quite the rage in London," Sophy said tentatively, wondering if she had accidentally stumbled across a point of mutual intellectual interest.

"If by that you mean the women are busy throwing themselves at him, you're right. A man could get trampled under a lot of pretty little feet if he was idiotic enough to attend a crush where Byron was also present." Julian did not sound envious in the least. It was obvious he found the Byron phenomenon amusing, nothing more. "What else have we here? Some learned text on mathematics, perhaps?"

Sophy nearly choked as she recognized the book in his hand. "Not exactly, my lord."

Julian's indulgent expression was wiped off his face in an instant as he read the title aloud. "Wollstonecraft's A Vindication of the Rights of Women?"

"I fear so, my lord."

His eyes were glittering as he looked up from the book in his hands. "This is the sort of thing you have been studying? This ridiculous nonsense espoused by a woman who was no better than a demirep?"

"Miss Wollstonecraft was not a…a demirep," Sophy flared indignantly. "She was a free thinker, an intellectual woman of great ability."

"She was a harlot. She lived openly with more than one man without benefit of marriage."

"She felt marriage was nothing but a cage for women. Once a woman marries she is at the mercy of her husband. She has no rights of her own. Miss Wollstonecraft had deep insight into the female situation and she felt something should be done about it. I happen to agree with her. You say you are curious about me, my lord. Well, you might learn something about my interests if you read that book."

"I have no intention of reading such a piece of idiocy." Julian tossed the volume carelessly aside. "And what is more, my dear, I am not going to have you poisoning your own brain with the writing of a woman who, by rights, should have been locked away in Bedlam or set up in Trevor Square as a professional courtesan."

Sophy was barely able to restrain herself from throwing her full cup of tea at him. "We had an agreement on the matter of my reading habits, my lord. Are you going to violate that, also?"

Julian gulped down the last of his tea and set the cup and saucer aside. He came toward her deliberately, his expression cold and furious. "Hurl one more accusation about my lack of honor at me, madam, and I will not answer for the consequences. I have had enough of this farce you call a honeymoon. Nothing useful is being achieved. The time has come to put matters on a normal footing. I have indulged you long enough, Sophy. From now on, you will be a proper wife in the bedchamber as well as outside it. You will accept my judgment in all areas and that includes the matter of your reading habits."

Sophy's cup and saucer clattered alarmingly as she sprang to her feet. The lock of hair she had pushed behind her ear fell free again. She took a step backward and the heel of her slipper caught on the hem of her dressing gown. There was a rending sound as the delicate fabric tore.

"Now look what you've done," she wailed as she glanced down at the drooping hem.

"I have done nothing yet." Julian stopped in front of her and surveyed her nervous, mutinous expression. His eyes softened. "Calm yourself. I have not even touched you and you already look as if you have been struggling valiantly for your sadly misplaced female honor." He raised a hand and gently caught the dangling lock of hair between his fingers. "How ever do you manage it, Sophy?" he asked softly.

"Manage what, my lord?"

"No other woman of my acquaintance goes about in such sweet disarray. There is always some bit of ribbon or lace dangling from your gowns and your hair never stays where it is meant to stay."

"You knew I did not have the trick of fashion when you made your offer, my lord," she said tightly.

"I know. I did not mean to imply any criticism. I simply wondered how you achieved the effect. You carry it off so artlessly." He released the lock of hair and slid his blunt fingers around her head, tugging more pins free as he went.

Sophy stiffened as he eased his other arm around her waist and pulled her closer. She wondered frantically how long it would take for the tea to have its inevitable effect. Julian did not seem to be at all sleepy.

"Please, Julian—"

"I am trying to do precisely that, my love," he murmured against her mouth. "I want nothing more than to please you tonight. I suggest you relax and let me show you that being a wife is not really so terrible."

"I must insist on our agreement…" She tried to argue but she was so nervous now she could not even stand. She clutched Julian's shoulders to steady herself and wondered wildly what she would do if she had inadvertently used the wrong herbs in the tea.

"After tonight you will not mention that stupid agreement again." Julian's mouth came down heavily, his lips moving on hers in a slow, drugging fashion. His hands found the ties of her dressing gown.

Sophy jumped when the gown was slowly eased off her shoulders. She stared up into Julian's heated gaze and tried to detect some sign of cloudiness in his glittering eyes.

"Julian, could you grant me just a few more minutes? I have not finished my tea. Perhaps you would like another cup?"

"Don't sound so terribly hopeful, my sweet. You are only trying to put off the inevitable and I assure you the inevitable is going to be quite pleasant for both of us." He deliberately ran his hands down her sides to her waist and then to her hips, drawing the fabric of the fine lawn nightgown close to her figure. "Very pleasant," he whispered, his voice growing husky as he gently squeezed her buttocks.

Sophy began to burn beneath his intent gaze. The desire in him was mesmerizing. She had never had any man look at her the way Julian was looking at her now. She could feel the heat and strength in him. It made her as light-headed as if she had also drunk a cup of the herbed tea.

"Kiss me, Sophy. Julian tilted her chin with his fingers.

Obediently she lifted her head and stood on tiptoe to brush her mouth across his. How much longer? she wondered frantically.

"Again, Sophy."

Her fingers dug into the fabric of his dressing gown as she touched his mouth with her own once more. He was warm and hard and curiously compelling. She could have clung to him all night like this but she knew he would insist on much more than simple kisses.

"That's better, my sweet." His voice was growing thicker but whether it was from the effects of the sleeping tonic or his own desire was not clear. "As soon as you and I have reached a complete understanding, we are going to deal together very well, Sophy."

"Is this the way you deal with your mistress?" she asked daringly.

His expression hardened. "I have warned you more than once not to talk of such matters."

"You are always giving me warnings, Julian. I grow tired of them."

"Do you? Then perhaps it's time you learned I am capable of action as well as words."

He picked her up and carried her over to the turned-back bed. He released her and she dropped lightly down onto the sheets. When she scrambled to adjust herself the fine lawn gown somehow succeeded in working its way up to her thighs. She looked up and saw Julian's eyes on her breasts. She knew he could see the outline of her nipples through the soft material.

Julian shrugged out of his dressing gown, his gaze sliding along her body to her bare legs. "Such beautiful legs. I am sure the rest of you is going to prove just as lovely."

But Sophy was not listening. She was staring at his nude figure in amazement. She had never before seen a man naked, let alone fully aroused and the sight was staggering. She had thought herself mature and well informed, not an unsophisticated girl who could be easily shocked. She was, as she had so often informed Julian, a country-bred girl.

But Julian's male member seemed tremendous to Sophy's reeling senses. It thrust aggressively out of a nest of curling black hair. The skin of his flat stomach and broad, hair-covered chest was drawn tight over sleek muscles Sophy knew were quite capable of overpowering her.

In the glow of the candlelight Julian looked infinitely male and infinitely dangerous but there was a strange, compelling quality about his power that alarmed her more than anything else could have done.

"Julian, no," Sophy said quickly. "Please do not do this. You gave me your word."

The passion in his eyes flared briefly into anger but his words began to slur. "Damn you, Sophy, I have been as patient as a man can be. Do not bring up the matter of our so-called agreement again. I am not going to violate it."

He came down onto the bed, reaching for her, his big, strong hands closing around her arm. She could see his eyes were finally beginning to glaze and Sophy felt a shock of what must have been relief when she realized he was about to sink into sleep.

"Sophy?" Her name was a drowsy question. "So soft. So sweet. You belong to me, you know." Long dark lashes slowly lowered, concealing the puzzled expression in Julian's eyes. "I will take care of you. Won't let you turn out like that bitch, Elizabeth. I'd strangle you first."

He bent his head to kiss her. Sophy stiffened but he never touched her lips. Julian groaned once and collapsed back against the pillow. His strong fingers grasped her arm a few seconds longer and then his hand fell away.

Sophy's pulse was racing with unnatural swiftness as she lay on the bed beside Julian. She did not dare to move for several minutes. Gradually her heartbeat steadied and she assured herself Julian was not going to awaken. The wine he had drunk earlier together with the herbs she had given him would ensure he slept until morning.

Sophy eased herself slowly off the bed, her gaze never leaving Julian's magnificently sprawled form. He looked very fierce and wild lying there on the white sheets.

What had she done?

Standing beside the bed, Sophy gathered her senses and tried to think rationally.

She was not certain how much Julian would remember when he awakened in the morning. If he ever realized he had been drugged his rage would be awesome and it would all be directed at her. She must contrive to make him think he had achieved his goal.

Sophy hurried over to the medicine chest. Bess had once explained that there was sometimes some bleeding after a woman made love the first time, especially if the man was careless and less than gentle. Julian might or might not be expecting to find blood on the sheets in the morning. But it would tend to confirm his belief that he had done his husbandly duty if he found some.

Sophy mixed a reddish concoction using some red-leafed herbs and more of the tea. When she was done she eyed the mixture dubiously. It certainly looked the right color but it was very thin. Perhaps that would not matter once it had soaked into the sheet.

She went over to the bed again and dabbed a bit of the fake blood onto the bedding where she had lain a few minutes earlier. It was quickly absorbed, leaving a small, damp, reddish ring. Sophy wondered just how much blood a man would expect to find after he had made love to a virgin.

She frowned intently and finally decided the amount of red-brown liquid she had used was not enough to attract much notice so she added some more. Her hand shook nervously as she leaned over the bed and a large amount of the imitation blood slopped over the edge of the cup.

Startled, Sophy stepped back and more of the liquid cascaded onto the sheets. There was now a very sizable patch of wet, stained bedding. Sophy wondered if she had overdone it.

Hastily she poured the remainder of the reddish concoction into the teapot. Then she blew out the candles and slid gingerly into bed beside Julian, careful not to brush against his heavy, muscled leg.

There was no help for it. She would have to sleep on at least a portion of the wide, damp spot.