Page 71 of Marry in Haste
Emm winced at the slamming door. She’d thought her lack of virginity wouldn’t matter so much because their marriage had been made for purely practical reasons. And because it had all happened such a long time ago.
How wrong she’d been.
When the accusation had come, she’d been stupidly shocked. She’d been floating on a cloud of... bliss. Exhausted, drowsy and yet somehow... exhilarated. Not thinking of anything.
And then the question, harsh, accusing. For which she had no answer. No acceptable answer.
On reflection, she admitted to herself that she could have handled it better. Handled him better, instead of being stiff-necked and stubborn and refusing to apologize or beg his forgiveness.
His anger had shaken her. As if somehow it was personal, a personal betrayal.
But how could it be when they hardly knew each other?
Her emotions were all over the place. Perhaps she should have made more of an effort to tell him beforehand. But he’d shown no interest in her as a person—apart from that kiss—and the opportunity hadn’t arisen.
She punched her pillow. Why should she expose herself, rip open old wounds and humiliations—and grief—open herself to the judgment of a man she barely knew? If he’d ever asked her anything about herself, ever shown the slightest interest in her life, her past, even her opinions, she would have felt obliged to tell him about Sam. But he hadn’t.
She pulled the covers around her and lay staring into what remained of the fire. The glowing coals were turning to ashes of gray. The room was growing colder.
Life was so unfair. He’d obviously lain with oh, probably dozens of women, and she’d lain with one man and that only three times almost ten years ago. But she was the sinner and he was the righteously wronged.
Male pride and possessiveness.
She turned over in the bed again, unable to get comfortable, because despite her attempts to justify her actions to herself, the strongest emotion she felt was regret, because until then it had been so lovely between them. So unexpectedly sweet. Tender. She’d had no idea it could be like that...
Until tonight, her—admittedly limited—experience of congress between a man and woman was that it was hasty, rough and uncomfortable. But wildly exciting.
Lord Ashendon had shown her it could also be glorious... transcendent.
She’d felt cherished...
And then... the moment had shattered, like a delicate rainbow glass bauble crushed beneath the heel of a boot. Leaving her dazed among the shards.
She would not cry, not over this, not over anything shecould not change. Spilled milk. Story of her life. There was nothing for it but to mop it up and go on.
But how to mop this mess up?
She closed her eyes, burrowed a nest into her bedclothes as she had when she was a child and tried to sleep.
***
“His lordship sent me to wake you, miss—I mean, my lady.” Milly threw the curtains back, letting sunshine stream through. “Such a lovely day it is, I expect he doesn’t want to waste it.” She brought a tray over to Emm. “I got you sweet rolls and some hot chocolate, miss, but if you want anything else—”
“No, that will do nicely, thank you, Milly.” Emm blinked at the bright sunshine. She went to sit up, then recalled she was naked. She pulled the covers around her. “What time is it?”
“After ten, but then, nobody expects you to get up early after your wedding night.” Milly blushed as she picked up the silk nightgown from the floor and folded it. “It’s ever such a grand house, miss—I mean, my lady.” She fetched a dressing gown and handed it to Emm.
Emm slipped it on gratefully, then reached for her breakfast tray. She was famished. She poured the chocolate. “Are they treating you all right, Milly?”
“Oh, yes, m’lady. As your personal maid I’m at the top end of the servants’ table. At the Duck’s I was right down the other end with only the scullery maid below me.” She tossed Emm a quick grin. “Of course they’re all thrilled that the young master’s come home after all these years, and they’re beside themselves that he’s married. Everyone here adores him. The previous lord, his older brother, they weren’t that keen on him, but Master Cal—that’s what they call him when they forget he’s the earl now—he’s always been their favorite, so I reckon you being his bride, you can do no wrong in their eyes.”
Emm sipped her chocolate. That remained to be seen.
“Oh, and I forgot to say, the master said to tell you when you’re dressed he wants to speak to you in the library.”
Emm’s appetite vanished. She put her breakfast tray aside.“Draw me a bath, please, Milly.” Best to beard her dragon in his den and get it over with.
“Very good, m’lady.”
