Page 82 of To Pleasure a Prince
“Peculiar name.”
“It’s from Shakespeare.” He slanted a glance at her. “I don’t suppose you read many plays.”
“None at all, I’m afraid,” she said ironically. The servants scurried about, unloading luggage to carry inside while she gazed up at the imposing building. “How far are we from the main house?”
“A couple of miles.”
What a vast estate he must have. At least they were close enough to the house that Cicely could summon her back to London if need be. Then again, giving Cicely her direction might not be easy. Regina had planned to bribe an innkeeper’s servant to write and read letters for her wherever they ended up. But bribing one of Marcus’s servants was unacceptable. Oh dear, she’d have to think of something else. But what?
“Father built Illyria as his retreat,” Marcus explained, “so he and Louisa and I would have somewhere to go when…certain guests were in residence.”
“Ah.” She stood marveling at Marcus’s Oriental palace. “It’s amazing. Has the prince ever seen it?”
“No,” he bit out. “Neither he nor my mother was ever allowed here.”
“Are you sure? It looks very much like a renovation design he’s been considering for his house in Brighton.” She shot him a side glance. “And if I remember correctly, that design contains a number of dragons.”
He stiffened. “Father would not have let them within a mile of this place, I promise you.”
Them.The resentment in his voice saddened her. Not that she blamed him, after what he’d told her on their ride.
“In any case,” he went on, “I thought spending our honeymoon here would ease you into life at Castlemaine. When we want to visit the main house and other parts of the estate we can, but if we want to stay here alone, we can do that, too.” He slid his arm around her waist, his voice growing husky. “For myself, I would rather be alone with you for a while.”
He kissed her right in front of the servants, and her heart leaped into her throat.How long is a while?she wanted to ask, but he would misunderstand her reason for the question. She could hardly tell him she was worried about Louisa.
She could only pray that Cicely would succeed in befriending Louisa and holding Simon at bay. Or that Simon didn’t find a way to twist Cicely’s arm, too.
Given Marcus’s dreadful mother, he had good reason for being suspicious of Regina’s own motives for marrying him. But she didn’t know how to reassure him. Telling him about Simon would only make everything worse.
And telling him about the other…No, she couldn’t, not yet. Until they shared a bed, he could conceivably get their marriage annulled. Her damaged mind would give him ample cause, and what a humiliation that would be.
She would wait until after their wedding night. Then if he demanded retribution for her not telling him of her defect until it was too late, she would give him whatever he demanded, no matter what it was.
She would leave the decision about children to him, too. Perhaps he wouldn’t care. He might not mind having an heir who could not read. Who was feebleminded or worse.
Buthewas fine, so perhaps their children would be fine. His sturdy breeding might make up for the weakness in hers.
Yes, that’s what she would pray for. Surely after all that Marcus had suffered in his life, God would not make him suffer with his children, too.
She drew back from Marcus, forcing a bright smile for his benefit. “Why don’t you show me the house? I’m dying to see the inside.”
“Certainly.” With a knowing smile, he slid his arm about her waist. “Shall I show you the bedchamber first?”
“Now?” she asked. “I mean—”
“It’s all right,” he murmured, amusement in his voice. “I won’t rush you. We have the whole night.”
The thought stayed with her as he showed her into a neat foyer sparkling with Oriental greens and golds, and then an adorable sitting room furnished entirely with items of black lacquer and mother-of-pearl. She oohed and aahed on cue, but her mind raced with everything her married friends had told her this week abouttheirwedding nights.
They’d used words like “awkward” and “mortifying.” They’d said that “the first bit is nice, but the end is awful” and had reassured her that it was “over quickly, thank heavens.” And every tale had ended with “But at least he gives you jewels after it’s done, so it’s all right.”
As if that would make up for what sounded like an awful experience. Besides, she couldn’t even imagine Marcus giving her flowers, much less jewels. He wasn’t the flowers and jewels sort.
But he did seem very good at the kissing and fondling part. So perhaps the act itself would not betooawful with him. It wasn’t as if he didn’t have any experience at it, after all. There were all those “beauties” he could buy at any brothel. Perhaps her friends’ husbands just hadn’t been very experienced.
Then again…she stole a glance at Marcus’s broad shoulders and great height. Compared to her friends’ husbands, Marcus was downright brutish in size. And he was lustier, too. She couldn’t imagine a single one of her friends’ husbands dragging his wife onto his lap. Or trying to seduce her in a carriage.
But Marcus would be demanding and forceful and…big. Dear Lord.
