Sailing to Love Read online

  Venetia was glad to see that her aunt had taken her advice and neither she nor her uncle came to the vestry with them.

  As the bridegroom gave the priest an envelope which Venetia knew contained the money for the wedding and she hoped a large donation for the church, she moved towards the door, which the priest opened for her.

  To her relief the carriage was waiting there, just as it should be.

  Lord Mountwood helped her into the carriage and sat beside her. As they began to move out of the churchyard, Lord Anthony stood there, beaming with happiness for his friend, eagerly waving them off.

  It was done.

  CHAPTER THREE

  As the carriage turned onto the road that led to the railway station, Venetia looked about her, as if puzzled, remembering that she was not supposed to know of the change of plan.

  “You may wonder why we’re taking this road,” the Earl said.

  It was the first time he had spoken to her since they had been married.

  “Just a little,” she said softly.

  “I am afraid this will come as rather a shock to you, but the letter Anthony brought me contained orders from Her Majesty to proceed straight to the ship and not to the wedding reception. It seems she’s had some information from India which has told her we are needed there as quickly as possible.”

  Venetia smiled to herself as she thought how carefully she had written those words. Then she replied,

  “But of course we have to do what Her Majesty requires however difficult it may be.”

  She spoke in a soft, low voice which she felt he would not question. She had obviously been successful because he merely said,

  “You are quite right and the sooner we get to India the better. It’s only a short trip to the railway station and then we catch the train for Portsmouth. And now that we are man and wife, don’t you think you could remove your veil?”

  For a dreadful moment Venetia felt her mind go blank. Then a gust of wind saved her. Clutching her veil against the wind she said,

  “Not in this wind. I must protect my complexion.”

  He gave a grin that, to her eyes, looked wolfish and said,

  “Very well, madam. I’ll wait until we are safely locked in the railway carriage.”

  And there was something about the way he said it that filled her with alarm.

  At the railway station footmen hurried to take down their bags and load them onto the train. The first class carriage was ready for them. The Earl assisted her aboard, the whistle blew, and they were on their way.

  For the first ten minutes they travelled in silence. Venetia was nervous in case the Earl should demand that she remove her veil, but he seemed absorbed in looking out of the window at the scenery.

  ‘Almost as if I wasn’t here,’ she thought. ‘If I was really his wife, I’d probably find that insulting.’

  Then she remembered that she was his wife.

  At last he said,

  “It isn’t a long journey to Portsmouth. We should be there in half an hour. Her Majesty’s letter said that the Captain of the ship has been alerted to leave as soon as we board, and of course her word is law, which is why we are here and not at the reception.”

  Venetia inclined her head. “Naturally Her Majesty must be obeyed,” she said.

  “I hope you’re not too disappointed at missing the reception?” he continued.

  “We have more important business to pursue,” she said dutifully.

  “Indeed we have,” he replied in a suddenly altered tone that sent a frisson down her spine. “A newly married couple always has important things on their minds. Is that not so?”

  “I – yes – but –”

  “But?” he echoed in a soft voice. “How can there be a but? What can matter more than – each other?”

  “Nothing. But may I point out to you, sir, that we have barely met?”

  “Are we any the less married for that? You knew the terms when you agreed to this marriage and you’re just as much a stranger to me as I am to you.”

  “And we must both work to get to know each other –”

  “Indeed we must. It would help if I could see your face. Come, this is excessive modesty. A new husband should at least be allowed to kiss his bride.”

  He had been in the seat facing her, but suddenly he moved swiftly so that he was sitting beside her, seizing her hands in his. Venetia gasped.

  “You do agree that I may reasonably ask for that much?” he asked.

  “I – yes, but –”

  “Very good. Then we are in perfect agreement.”

  Before she could think of a reply, he drew her into his arms so that her head rested on his shoulder. For a moment he looked down into what he could see of her face behind the thin white silk of the veil, but he did not, as she had feared, try to remove it. Instead he lowered his mouth onto hers.

  For a moment she was too astonished to react. The sensation of being kissed through her veil was unlike anything she had ever experienced before. It was mysterious and tantalising. She could not touch his mouth but she could feel its shape and sense how firm and mobile it was, how urgent and persuasive.

  She was unable to do anything but cling onto him while unfamiliar sensations possessed her. She could feel his hot breath on her skin through the silk, and see his face looming over her in a way that was almost menacing, yet mysteriously exciting.

  Whatever that excitement was she knew that it affected him too. His heart was beating hard enough for her to feel it against her own chest and his breath came swiftly. And, although she could not be sure, she had a feeling that his eyes were closed.

  The next moment he muttered, “Damn this veil!” and swiftly pulled it aside. She was too overwrought to be alarmed. His lips touched hers with nothing between them. Now she had what she wanted, the touch of his lips directly on hers. She could feel their warmth and their firmness, but she sensed that behind them was an urgency and determination she had never met before.

  She gasped at the fierce sensations that were coursing through her and pressed tentatively against him, seeking a respite. But there was none. He merely drew her more closely against him and intensified his assault on her mouth.

  “Sweet,” he murmured, “sweetness and honey – mine – all mine –”

  “Wait,” she gasped, becoming alarmed, “let me go.”

  He gave a soft laugh.

  “I shall never let you go. You belong to me now – or at least, you will soon. In the darkness I shall make you mine so completely that your own self will become a stranger to you –”

  Even through her inflamed senses she could feel a flicker of indignation. She did not want to lose her own self to any man. And he had no right to take such a thing for granted.

  “I think I’d rather keep myself in my own possession,” she managed to say, although it was hard to speak.

  His reply was a laugh that vibrated through her, almost destroying her strength.

  “That’s what you think now,” he whispered, “but when the darkness comes and I clasp your naked body against mine so that we become one, then you will be mine, completely mine. And I shall brook no argument.”

  He kissed her again before she could reply and for a while the sensuous pleasure that swamped her left no room for thought. How could she want anything, ever again, but to be drowned in such feelings?

  But her true self would not be denied. She was an intelligent, thinking being and she could never give herself to a man who denied that.

  “No,” she gasped, beginning to struggle. “Let me go.”

  “I shall never let you go.”

  “Yes, you will!”

  Exerting all her strength she managed to free herself from him just long enough to jump up and hurl herself into the opposite seat. He made to come after her, but stopped, his eyes fixed on her face with an expression of shock.

  With horror she realised what had happened. He had ripped her veil away in a moment of passion so intense that he had be
en oblivious to her face. He had seen only her lips, covering them too quickly to be aware of anything else.

  But it was different now. He could see her clearly and her deception was exposed to his angry gaze, long before she had meant it to happen.

  “What the devil are you doing here?” he demanded in a voice of thunder.

  Her mind went blank. What, after all, was there to say?

  “Did you hear me madam? What are you doing here, dressed as my bride? And where is my bride? What have you done with her? Answer me.”

  Venetia glared back at him, trying to look braver than she felt.

  “If you mean Miss Wenmore –”

  “Certainly I mean Miss Wenmore. I don’t have any other bride, do I?”

  “Well – actually, yes, you do,” she said cautiously. “You have me.”

  “Stop talking in riddles. Where is the woman I married today?”

  “Sitting right in front of you,” she said, recovering some of her spirit. “I was that woman, in the carriage, at the church, at the altar.”

  “And where is Miss Wenmore?”

  “I have no idea,” she said truthfully. “She slipped out of the house as soon as I had left it. By now I hope she is married to the man she loves.”

  He stared at her as though unable to believe his ears. Then he said sharply,

  “Start at the beginning and tell me exactly what has happened.”

  “Mary has been in love with someone for a long time, but her father would not have thought him grand enough to be his son-in-law.

  “Out of the blue she was told that she had to marry you and she was desperate to escape. So she came to me.”

  “I suppose it never occurred to her or to you to consult me.”

  “How could we? You had your orders from the Queen and I doubt if you are brave enough to defy her. Mary even threatened to kill herself if she had to marry you.”

  “Then why the hell did no one tell me?” the Earl asked angrily.

  “Because if she had done so no one would have listened. And you may as well know that she is having a baby by the man she loves. She couldn’t possibly have married you.”

  “Evidently,” he said curtly. “But I still say you should have got a message to me. I would have helped her to escape and talked my way out of it with the Queen.”

  “And risked her wrath?”

  The Earl scowled at her.

  “I’m not quite the milksop you seem to imagine, madam. I would simply have told Her Majesty that I arrived too late to prevent my bride eloping with another man. Even a Queen-Empress could have done nothing about that.

  “Instead, the two of you invented this incredible farrago which might have been designed to make a fool of me. It’s intolerable.”

  “I’m very sorry,” she said. “But Mary was desperate to avoid you at all costs.”

  “Thank you!”

  He was clearly in a terrible temper.

  ‘I expect it is the first time, – Venetia thought to herself, ‘that he’s ever met a woman who wasn’t flattered at the thought of becoming his wife. It’ll do him a lot of good.’

  “You realise what you’ve done?” he snapped. “We are now married. Tied to each other for ever.”

  “Perhaps not,” she said, also becoming angry. She was rapidly deciding that the sooner this ‘marriage’ was ended the better. “After all, I used a false name.”

  “It makes no difference.”

  “We could ask to have the marriage declared null and void –”

  “If you think I am going to let you make me a laughing stock over two continents, you are very much mistaken.”

  “You’ll be that anyway when the facts are known,” she was rash enough to say.

  “But they are not going to be known. In a few minutes we’ll be pulling into Portsmouth, where we will embark for India.”

  “And suppose I don’t want to go to India?”

  “You’ve left it a little late to decide that. You are now my wife and you will do exactly as I say.”

  “I most certainly will not.”

  He gave her a sardonic smile.

  “May I remind you that only a few hours ago you vowed to love, honour and obey me? I may not have known who you were, but you knew exactly who I was when you made that vow, so I shall have no compunction about holding you to it.”

  “You can’t want to be married to me,” she said wildly.

  “I don’t. But I’m damned if I’ll be laughed at. Do you understand? What did you think was going to happen when I discovered the truth? When were you going to tell me, by the way?”

  “When the ship had set sail.”

  “So you meant to go through with it? Then why are you trying to get out of it now?”

  “Because I had no idea what you were like. I thought you’d be – more reasonable.”

  He laughed aloud at that.

  “You imagined you could play such a trick on me, expose me to derision and I’d just shrug and put up with it? Were you mad when you thought of that?”

  “I think I must have been,” she admitted. “But we still have time to put it right –”

  “I’ve told you, you’re going through with it. We are married and we are going to India. By the time we return nobody will remember that you were anything but the Countess of Mountwood, a title you will do your best not to disgrace.”

  “How dare you!”

  “I dare because your behaviour so far has given me serious misgivings about your rearing. No young woman of my acquaintance would indulge in such a mad romp, putting herself in the hands of a man she knew nothing about. But it can’t be helped. You are now Lady Mountwood and must remain so to the bitter end.”

  “The bitter end,” she repeated in a hollow voice. “I wonder just how bitter that end will be.”

  “That depends on you. Learn to behave yourself as a docile, obedient wife and you won’t find me too difficult to live with. But there must be no more such pranks. I won’t tolerate that.”

  “You talk as though I was a slave, not a wife,” she cried.

  He shrugged.

  “There’s very little difference in the eyes of the law. You have made yourself my property, to do with as I please. If you don’t like that prospect, you shouldn’t have done it. You chose this situation, but from now on the choices will be mine.”

  She stared at him in horror as the full import of these words sunk in. What he said was true. A wife belonged to her husband. She had no rights, save those he granted her, which could be withdrawn at any time.

  Why had she not thought of all this before? When she had envisaged her plan, Lord Mountwood had been as insubstantial as a phantom. Now she found herself confronted by reality and she knew that she simply must escape.

  It was just a question of being firm.

  “You are mistaken, my Lord,” she said emphatically.

  “There’s no need for you to call me ‘my Lord’,” he replied. “It’s very flattering, of course, and implies a submissive attitude that is very proper in a wife. But since we are married I shall permit you to call me Ivan.”

  “Since we are not married I shall call you ‘my Lord’. And even if we were married I should not be submissive.”

  “Oh, but you will be. I shall insist upon it.”

  “You will not get the chance.”

  “You think so, do you? I can see that this is going to be a battle royal between us, but I shall win, because I shall tolerate nothing else. And while we’re on the subject I may as well make it clear here and now that in future you will not contradict me. That’s what submissiveness means, by the way. I thought I had better explain that, since I have a feeling you didn’t know.”

  Unwisely Venetia allowed her temper to get the better of her.

  “Oh, I know what it means. I’ve seen women treating their foolish husbands like deities, never having any opinions of their own –”

  “Excellent!” he said cheerfully. “You do understand, after all. I see w
e’re going to get on famously together.”

  “We are not going to get on together in any way,” she told him sharply. “Since I am not going to India with you.”

  “Indeed?”

  “I shall leave when we reach Portsmouth. I am sure an annulment can be managed discreetly.”

  “But there isn’t going to be an annulment,” he said calmly. “And you are coming to India with me.”

  Venetia’s eyes glinted.

  “And how do you intend to get me on board, my Lord?”

  “Oh, I shall drag you by the hair if I have to,” he said brightly. “Or toss you over my shoulder, like a sack of meal. I really don’t mind which.”

  “And I thought you didn’t want to be laughed at! Just think of the scandal that will cause.”

  He seemed to consider this seriously.

  “Do you know,” he said at last, “I think you’re right. Dragging you by the hair is out of the question.”

  “Good, and so –”

  “And so I shall have to employ other methods.”

  He spoke so calmly that she did not realise what he meant to do. Moving too quickly for her to react, he came to sit beside her, seized her in his arms and drew her hard against him, looking down into her face with an expression that she could not read.

  She just managed to whisper a wild, “No!” before his mouth descended on hers, silencing her protest, although inwardly she continued to protest vehemently.

  But she knew now that he cared nothing for her inner thoughts. Mentally she might refuse him, but as long as he held her body in his arms, her mouth beneath his, he had all the consent he wanted.

  She was his property. He had said so. And now it was clear that he intended to treat her as such.

  Her thoughts whirled furiously, but already she knew that the real threat came from her own senses, which insisted on responding to this terrible man, despite the outrage he was inflicting on her.

  The feel of his lips on hers was a wicked delight, teasing and inciting her to respond. She wanted to experience that touch, wanted it desperately and with increasing fervour, so that she could not stop herself from moving her mouth against his, even while she was bitterly ashamed of herself for doing so.

  She must resist him, she must! But how could she resist him when her senses yearned towards him, aching for him to claim her more deeply.