“Perhaps, but I prefer to use your title. And you are not truly my husband.”
He didn’t argue the point, merely offered a different sort of rationale. “Lamentably, your ravishment will have to wait. I am not in the best condition to make love just now.”
“That is a vast relief,” she said honestly.
“You sound happy that I am in dire pain.”
Dire pain? He was clearly exaggerating the extent of his suffering.
“I think,” Traherne added when she was silent, “I deserve more sympathy from you. You said yourself, I was wounded while trying to shield you.”
“Yes, and I am profoundly sorry for that.”
“Your remorse warms my heart.”
The laughter in his tone made her aware how he was playing on her guilt.
“It is small wonder that someone wants to hurt you,” Venetia observed. “You are positively aggravating.”
“How can you be so heartless after I was shot in your defense?”
Opening her eyes, Venetia almost rolled them at the dark ceiling. “Must you remind me at every turn? You enjoy making me grovel, don’t you?”
; “What I enjoy is changing your poor opinion of me.”
“That would be impossible.”
“You were frightened for me yesterday, admit it.”
“It was the stress of the moment.”
“Is that all?”
“Of course I felt compassion for you, as I would for any wounded creature, but I should never have given in to your extortion.”
“Extortion? That is a case of the teapot calling the kettle black. You initiated the tactic at Tavistock’s, if I recall.”
Just then Traherne reached out his hand and drew his fingers gently down her spine. Venetia shivered with unexpected longing. “I’ll thank you to keep your hands to yourself, my lord.”
“As you wish.”
His hand fell away, and Venetia was conscious of an infuriating feeling of disappointment. At the same time, she felt the strangest sense of regret. This was nothing like the wedding night she had once imagined. She had expected to love her husband and give herself joyously. She’d hoped for sweet words and whispered secrets and expressions of undying affection and devotion. Not this sparring exchange.
She closed her eyes and willed sleep to come, but failed utterly. There was something too intimate about sleeping while Traherne was awake. It made her too vulnerable. She was excruciatingly aware of her own body and the heat building inside her.
Apparently he was having as much trouble sleeping, for although she listened for the sound of his even breathing, it never came.
When she shifted her position restlessly for the fourth time, he sighed softly. Then he started to speak gently.
“Venetia, love, I have promised to keep you safe. That means from myself as well. I am not the sort of man to attack virgins, in any case. And I have never in my life hurt a woman or taken one against her will.”
Venetia felt the tension ease inside her fractionally. She knew enough about Traherne to believe his claim. Whatever his vices, he would never hurt her, at least not physically.
Despite his reassurance, however, it was a long, long while before she fell asleep.
—