Stormswept (10 page)

Suddenly he gave a mighty thrust, and it was as if they both hurtled over the waterfall and into the thunder of vast, crashing waves. With a choked cry, he poured his seed into her and she reveled in the feel of it, clutching him to her until she was swamped by an enjoyment she’d never dreamed of.

For a moment, she feared she’d drown in it, die like this in his arms. Her body shook, and only when she realized that Rhys’s body did the same did she lose her fear.

Some time passed before the wildness subsided. Rhys buried his head in her neck with a sigh, his whiskers tickling
her skin. He stayed silent so long, she almost feared he might be dead. She felt near to death herself—and yet utterly satisfied.

Nothing she’d ever experienced compared to this. If this heaven was allowed only to impure women, then she pitied all those Englishwomen with pure blood.

After a while, his weight began to crush her. “Rhys, I can’t . . . breathe.”

With a groan, he shifted off her, lying on his side and propping his head up with one hand. He bent to kiss her shoulder. “Sorry, my love. You make a pleasant bed.”

Now that he no longer lay atop her, she felt an odd stickiness between her thighs. She looked down to see blood smearing her skin.

She sat up in alarm. “Good Lord, I’m bleeding! ” Although she felt only a vague soreness between her legs, he must have wrought terrible damage inside her.

“It’s all right.” He laughed, pulling her back into his arms. “A virgin usually bleeds the first time a man takes her.”

She eyed him uncertainly. “Are you sure?”

“Quite sure, dear wife of mine.” He kissed her on the lips. “But the second time is much less messy . . .” Trailing off with a meaningful smile, he slid his hand over her breast.

She could feel his arousal growing against her thigh, but his certainty about the blood worried her. “How do you know so much about what happens when a man . . . when he . . .”

“Makes love to a virgin?” He smiled. “Well, other men
warn a man of these things. ’Tis a pity women aren’t as forthcoming about such matters to each other.”

“True,” she said absently, but her mind now wandered to Rhys’s apparent experience with women. He’d undressed her so easily. He’d seemed to know exactly how a woman’s clothes were fastened, and how they came undone. “Am I the only woman you’ve ever done these things with?”

His smile faded. “You’re the only virgin.”

Jealousy surged through her, startling in its intensity. She tried to sound nonchalant. “So you’ve made love to another woman.”

“No one that mattered, I assure you.”

“Who, then?”

He groaned. “None of them are even worth talking about.”

“
None
of them? More than one?” She thought of him touching other women’s bodies, kissing them and sliding his fingers deep inside them. Mama had told her people only did these things with the ones they married. Was that a lie, too?

He slipped from the bed and went to the washbasin. After wetting a towel, he washed her blood off himself, then returned to the bed and sat down to cleanse her.

“You’re not going to tell me, are you?” she asked.

A muscle worked in his jaw. “Do you really want to hear a recitation of the women I’ve bedded?” When she just stared at him, he said, “All right then, there was Mrs. Abernathy, the young wife of one of my tutors, who invited me to tea when her husband wasn’t home, and the dairymaid at Llynwydd—”

“Enough.” She realized she
didn’t
want to know any of it.

“Listen, my darling wife.” He leaned over her. “There were only a few. They were experienced women who wanted to have a tumble with a young, randy buck of tolerable looks. It meant as little to them as to me.” He kissed her, his eyes solemn. “And not a one of them was good enough to touch your boots, do you hear? Not a one.”

The look in his eyes warmed her, but she was still confused. “Some of these women were . . . married?”

He sighed. “Some of them.”

“But Rhys, I thought married women weren’t supposed to . . . well, do these things with men who weren’t their husbands.”

A cynical smile played over his lips. “You thought right. But as you’ve seen, lovemaking is quite pleasurable. People sometimes do it for its own sake, not because of any deep feelings for the person they join with. If their husbands—or wives—won’t oblige them, or don’t give them pleasure, they may not choose to abide by society’s rules.”

She sucked in a breath. “Did I give you pleasure?”

“Oh yes. A great deal of pleasure.”

“So then you will abide by society’s rules.” She didn’t think she could bear it if he made love to other women after making love to her.

He looked stricken. “Of course. What I did before . . . ’tis what most young men do in their salad days.” He stroked her hair. “But people who love each other don’t need anyone else. And I love you very much. It shall take me till the end of our lives and beyond to express how much.”

How could she stay peeved with him when he said such
sweet things and looked at her with such adoration? She could forgive him those other women as long as he was hers, now.

When he saw her smile, he let out a long breath. “All right?”

“All right.” Then she added, “And I shall abide by society’s rules, too. I promise.”

He quirked one eyebrow up. “You’d better. Some men beat their wives for such behavior, you know.”

“Oh?” Her eyes went round. “You would never beat me for anything, would you?”

Lowering himself to cover her, he murmured in a husky voice, “Never. I plan to cherish you all my life.” He nudged her knees apart as he bent his head to suck her breast, starting an ache deep inside her. “Beginning now,
cariad
.”

Then he demonstrated exactly how he intended to cherish her.

A tryste with Morfudd true I made,

’Twas not the first, in greenwood glade,

In hope to make her flee with me;

But useless all, as you will see.

—ANONYMOUS, “THE MIST”

D
arcy and his brother rode like fiends toward the White Oak. Juliana had run away with that damned radical Vaughan. He would never have believed the boy who’d been sent to alert them, if he and Overton hadn’t found Juliana’s room empty and a note left there for the family that read:

Dear Papa and Mama,

Don’t be alarmed. Rhys Vaughan and I have decided to marry, and since we knew you wouldn’t allow it, we’ve run off together. Please try to be happy for us. Rhys and I are very much in love, and hope you will come to accept this marriage in time.

With great affection,

Juliana

Just thinking of it made his blood boil. “When I get my hands on that scoundrel, I’ll kill him! ”

“The boy said they were already married, so they must have left the house hours ago,” Overton replied. “They may be gone by now.”

“Could Vaughan have gotten a special license?”

“The Welsh bishop might have given him one. He’s none too fond of Father.”

So how was he to deal with Vaughan? Killing the bastard wouldn’t be wise. Too many people knew of the battle between the squire and Father, so if Vaughan were found dead, the family would be under suspicion, and that would hurt Darcy’s political plans.

But having a deuced radical for a brother-in-law wouldn’t help his plans, either. Besides, Darcy hated that Vaughan was using this deceitful way to get his hands on Llynwydd. Juliana would soon discover that Vaughan hadn’t married her for love, though he’d somehow seduced her into believing otherwise.

And if she’d been so blind as to run off with the man, she wouldn’t listen to reason. So how was he to get her out of this once he wrenched her from Rhys? What if the marriage had been consummated? He had to manage this so Juliana wasn’t ruined, by having either her reputation sullied or her heart broken.

When they reached the inn, the owner ran out to greet them. “My lord, I hope I wasn’t mistaken about recognizing your sister, but I felt sure—”

“You weren’t mistaken.” Darcy glanced up at the darkened windows. “How long have they been here?”

“More than an hour, I’m afraid.” The innkeeper dropped his gaze to the ground. “And I believe they’ve been . . . ah . . . using that time to . . . well . . .”

“I understand.” Darcy clenched his fists. The bastard. So much for putting a stop to the consummation. “Where are they?”

“Their room is at the top of the stairs, but Vaughan came down a few moments ago to ask about the coach and get food. My servant is making a cold supper for them while Vaughan waits in the kitchen.”

Darcy dismounted. That gave him an idea for another way to deal with this problem. He paused to think through everything, to consider every avenue.

Then he turned to the innkeeper. “Here’s what I want you to do, my good man. Find some excuse for luring that scoundrel out here without telling my sister. My brother and I will deal with him.” He handed the innkeeper an ungodly amount of money and watched the man’s eyes widen. “That is yours, as long as you keep silent about whatever you see this night—and that includes not saying a word to my sister. Agreed?”

“Yes, my lord.”

As the innkeeper headed back inside, Overton growled, “We should go in and slit the bastard’s throat, the more public the better. Let them see what happens to the man who defiles our sister! ”

“Aye, and let them hang us afterward. Father’s influence couldn’t get us out of that, I assure you.” Darcy’s mouth tightened. “Don’t worry, I’ve got plans for our Mr. Vaughan. When I’m through with him, we’ll never have to worry about him again.”

Rhys walked down the hallway of the White Oak. The innkeeper had told him the coach had arrived and the coachman wanted to speak to him. Rhys hadn’t heard much noise coming from the inn yard, but then, he was having trouble concentrating on anything tonight.

That came from bedding his lovely wife, no doubt.

He smiled. Juliana was his in every way now. No more torturous nights lusting after her while he lay alone in his bed. No more torturous days wanting to speak to her and knowing he couldn’t.

Their life ahead might be difficult, but he could do anything with her at his side. His lack of an estate made no difference, and tonight he thought he could even tolerate her family. Ah, the poets were right to say that love would make a man mad. It surely had made him so.

But madness was pleasant indeed when shared with Juliana.

Rhys walked out into the inn yard, then stood there blankly. There was no coach here.

Suddenly something hit his head, and everything went black.

When he came to, Rhys found himself lying on a cold earth floor in what seemed to be a cellar. Voices argued from beyond an open door, but he had a devil of a headache and couldn’t take in the words. He sucked in a deep breath and got a mouthful of rank-smelling air, and when he tried to stretch his cramped limbs, he discovered his arms and legs were bound.

“
Uffern-dân!
 ” How long had he been lying here?

The arguing voices didn’t seem to hear him, but a voice beside him said, “Rhys? Devil take them, they got you, too?”

“Morgan? What in thunder is going on?”

“ ’Tis a press gang. While they were dragging me in just now, I heard them say they’re taking us aboard ship to serve in His Majesty’s Navy. The damned wretches.”

Rhys’s blood ran cold. It couldn’t be. Only a while ago, he’d been making love to his new wife at the White Oak. But he had no idea how long he’d been lying in this stinking, dank hole. “Where are we?”

“I don’t know; they put a sack over my head when they took me. But I suppose it’s some tavern near the docks. They got me when I came home after meeting Lettice.”

Rhys’s heart pounded. “It can’t be a press gang. They don’t take people like us—craftsmen, squires’ sons. They take sailors.”

“And radicals.”

“Aye, but what good could we be to them? I don’t know a sail from a bedsheet, and I’ll tell them, I will! ”

“Don’t waste your breath,” Morgan muttered.

But Rhys had already pushed himself into a sitting position. “You there, outside! I want to talk to you! ”