Cold-Hearted Rake (The Ravenels #1)(64)

One of Devon’s hands came to rest on her thigh. “Tell me what happened, sweetheart.”

It was impossible to hold anything back now. She looked away from him, her fingers gripped around the placket of her bodice. “You must understand… I had never been alone with Theo until our wedding night. Lady Berwick chaperoned us every minute, until after the wedding. We were married at the estate chapel. It was a very grand wedding, a week-long affair, and…” She paused as a new thought occurred to her. “You and West should have been invited. I’m so sorry that you weren’t.”

“I’m not,” Devon said. “I don’t know what I would have done, had I met you before the wedding.”

At first she thought he was joking, but his gaze was deadly serious.

“Go on,” he said.

“After the ceremony, Theo went to a tavern with his friends, and he stayed away all afternoon and evening. I was obliged to remain in my room because… it’s very awkward for the bride, you see. It’s unseemly to linger and talk to people before the wedding night. So I bathed, and Clara curled my hair with hot tongs, and I dressed in a white lace nightgown, and then I sat alone to wait… and wait… and wait… I was too nervous to eat anything, and there was nothing to do. I went to bed at midnight. I couldn’t sleep, I just lay there stewing.”

Devon’s hand tightened on her thigh.

She glanced at him quickly, and found him staring at her with a concern that turned her insides to molten honey.

“Finally Theo came into the room,” she continued, “very much the worse for drink. His clothes were dirty, and he smelled sour, and he didn’t even wash, just removed his clothes and climbed into bed, and started —” Kathleen stopped, reaching for her long braid and fidgeting with the end of it. There was no way to explain the ghastly surprise of being groped and overwhelmed, with no chance to become accustomed to the feel of a man’s naked body. Theo hadn’t kissed her… not that she had wanted him to… he hadn’t even seemed to be aware of her as a person.

“I tried to hold still at first,” she said. “That was what Lady Berwick said I was supposed to do. But he was so heavy and rough, and he was cross because I didn’t know what to do. I started to protest, and he tried to quiet me. He put his hand over my mouth – that was when I lost control. I couldn’t help it. I fought and kicked him, and suddenly he pulled away, doubling over. I told him that he smelled like a dung mixen, and I didn’t want him to touch me.”

Pausing, she glanced at him apprehensively, expecting disapproval or mockery. But his expression was inscrutable.

“I ran from the room,” she continued, “and spent the rest of the night on the divan in Helen’s room. She was very kind and didn’t ask questions, and the next morning she helped me to mend the torn lace on my nightgown before the maids could see it. Theo was furious with me the next day, but then he admitted that he shouldn’t have had so much to drink. He asked me to begin again. And I…” She swallowed hard, flooded with shame as she confessed, “I refused his apology. I said I would never share a bed with him, that night or any other night.”

“Good,” Devon said, in a different tone than she had ever heard him use before. He had glanced away from her, as if he didn’t want her to see what was in his eyes, but his profile was hard.

“No, it was terrible of me. When I went to Lady Berwick and asked what I should do, she said that a wife must tolerate her husband’s advances even when he’s in his cups, and it’s never pleasant, but that’s the nature of the marriage bargain. A wife exchanges her autonomy in return for her husband’s protection.”

“Shouldn’t the husband protect her from himself, if necessary?”

Kathleen frowned at the soft question. “I don’t know.”

Devon was silent, waiting for her to continue.

“During the next two days,” she said, “all the wedding guests departed. I couldn’t make myself go to Theo’s bed. He was hurt and angry, and he demanded his rights. But he was still drinking a great deal, and I said I would have nothing to do with him until he was sober. We argued terribly. He said that he would never have married me, had he known that I was frigid. On the third morning, he went out to ride Asad, and… you know the rest.”

Devon’s hand slipped beneath the hem of her nightgown, lightly stroking her bare thigh. He studied her, his gaze warm and interested. “Do you want to know what I would have done,” he asked eventually, “had I made the same mistake as Theo?” At her cautious nod, he continued, “I would have begged you for forgiveness, on my knees, and sworn never to let it happen again. I would have understood that you were angry and frightened, with good reason. I would have waited for as long as you needed, until I had earned back your trust… and then I would have taken you to bed and made love to you for days. As for you being frigid… I think we’ve disproved that conclusively.”

Kathleen blushed. “Before I leave… I know that a man has needs. Is there something I should do for you?”

A rueful smile tugged at his lips. “I appreciate your offer. But at the moment, it hurts to take a deep breath. Being pleasured by you would finish me off for good.” He squeezed her thigh. “The next time.”

“But there can’t be a next time,” she said bleakly. “Everything must go back to the way it was.”