A Rakehell's Heart Read online

  He said it lightly, as a jest, but the words settled into Cassandra’s heart with surprising resonance. Now that she was married, she belonged to her husband, and her cold, controlling father couldn’t threaten her, or drag her into dark forests to make her scared.

  She looked at her prince, blinking, understanding that things would be different. This time, for the first time, she touched his hand. Their eyes locked, and promises passed between them, silent as secret wishes. Her husband—still a stranger in so many ways—quirked a half-smile, and she felt it in her heart.

  “How are we to manage?” he murmured, cupping her cheek.

  Did he mean the dancing? She thought he meant more than that, but maybe not.

  Goodness, she hadn’t the first idea how to do such an exotic thing as dancing, and in front of so many people. Gideon leaned toward her, and she thought he meant to kiss her in front of everyone. That would be too much, especially if it was the passionate sort of kissing he’d done to her last night.

  Gideon’s father interrupted the moment, urging his son to escort his bride to the center of the ballroom to begin the dancing. The musicians watched expectantly, and the guests cheered and applauded, making a din that rose to the rafters. Indeed, the flames on the candles shook, until she thought they would spill wax from the chandeliers.

  The noise woke her father, who sat up with a stern expression as Gideon led her down from the dais. He held her elbow, a firm, steady guidance that enabled her to walk without tripping or fainting. Oh, God, to faint now as everyone watched and cheered!

  “You mustn’t feel shy,” he said with another half-smile. “You’re beautiful as a summer day, and they’re all here to see you.”

  “To see me stumble about?” She looked at her prince with wide eyes.

  “You’ll do fine.” As he said this, he raised his golden brows, full of that manly confidence that was so intimidating and pleasing at once. One of his arms came around her waist, while the other trapped her hand. They faced each other. He stood so close. Yes, she thought. Oh, he is handsome.

  The musicians pitched into a sprightly melody, not too fast, but not as slow as she’d hoped.

  “This is the traditional Hastings wedding dance,” Gideon explained. “I’ll lead you. Just follow along.”

  She tried to follow, clinging to his shoulder and pressing a sweaty palm to his. Her heavy wedding gown hampered her, but also masked some of her stumbles. In a short amount of time, with his guidance, she learned the sway of the dance, and how to follow the music. When she grew flustered, Gideon would say, “Look at me,” and he’d hold her gaze until she found the steps again.

  In those moments, she studied his pale eyes, so different from her dark ones, and saw so many things. She saw that he had gray flecks just as she had green ones, and that humor danced in his gaze almost all the time, even when he was busy trying to rescue her from making a spectacle of herself in front of hundreds of guests.

  But she was a spectacle. Gideon encouraged the other guests to join them, and she was grateful, because their dancing distracted from her lack of coordination. Did they know she’d spent the last dozen years in a convent, where dancing wasn’t permitted? Did they understand that her father had frowned on any gaiety or flirtation by the female sex?

  His opinions hold no consequence for you anymore.

  Other couples danced around them as the bright song repeated, smiling at them and crowding close. It didn’t bother her as much as she thought. In fact, she barely noticed them, because her husband held her gaze until the music ended. He gave her a playful twirl, and a great cheer went up.

  “May we sit down again?” she asked over the shouting.

  “For a short while,” he said.

  He led her back to the table and pressed more wine upon her. They watched the dancing, sitting a bit closer now than they’d sat before. Every so often his knee touched hers, or his hand, and fleeting as it was, it affected her a great deal. She was his wife. He was her husband. Still to come: this nuptial night they were to spend together, when he might or might not hurt her in his masculine debauchery. It couldn’t be worse than the dancing, she thought.

  Time passed as couples whirled and twirled, bright colors and brighter smiles. The musicians played more loudly, or maybe she was growing tired. She wondered what time it was. Gideon touched her arm and leaned close.

  “My mother is gathering the ladies,” he said. “It’s time for you to retire.”

  “Won’t you come with me?” She was confused. “Where will you sleep?”

  “With you, silly goose. But for courtesy, the ladies take you upstairs early to get ready. It’s a traditional thing.” For the first time Cassandra could remember, she saw a blush upon his cheeks. “Go prepare for bed, and don’t be nervous, darling. Ignore whatever nonsense the ladies tell you.”

  “Yes, Your Highness.” She watched his blush with fascination. It made him even handsomer, somehow.

  “And for God’s sake, stop calling me Your Highness,” he said, even though, in his fine wedding regalia, he seemed very much a Highness. “We’re married now, Cassandra. Gideon will do just fine.”

  “Yes, Sir. I mean, Gideon.” As she spoke, the women came to fetch her, making a great show of surrounding her and urging her from her chair. Another cheer went up from the assembled guests, this time of a much more ribald sort.

  *** ***

  Gideon left the ballroom soon after his bride. He knew Bertram would be waiting to spruce him up for his wedding night duties, but instead of turning right at the top of the stairs to go to his new bedroom, he turned left and took the other set of stairs, drifting down a quiet hallway to a room just past his mother’s. There was someone he’d missed at the wedding, someone he needed to see. He knocked softly and opened the door.

  Adele looked up from an elaborate work of embroidery, already dressed for bed.

  “Are you lost, Your Highness?” she asked. “Your new residence is in the east wing.”

  He entered and closed the door behind him. “I need a moment. A moment to breathe.”

  She put down her embroidery and came to him, and touched his forehead in a gesture she’d used since he was a young boy, as if she were testing his level of calmness. He did not feel very calm.

  “You have to help me,” he said, stepping back from her. “I’m supposed to go to the princess now.”

  “Well, then, you ought to go. You aren’t worried, are you? You know what to do.”

  He gave her a look. “I’ve known what to do since I was a fourteen-year-old miscreant. It’s not that.” He struggled to find the words he needed, the words to express his dread of doing the wrong thing.

  “You’ve never slept with a virgin. Is that it?” she asked.

  “Yes, that’s part of it. And she’s not just a virgin.” He paused and cleared his throat. “Things frighten her, Adele. She hasn’t had a peaceful childhood. At the wedding dinner, she didn’t know how to dance. She was so afraid.”

  “But you helped her.”

  “I had to. I didn’t want her to feel anxious. I wanted to protect her. And the thing is...” He laced his fingers together, trying to explain the maelstrom of his thoughts. “The thing is, I’ve never felt that way before, that this was very, very important, and that I mustn’t allow her to be frightened or hurt. I felt it in my chest and shoulders, in my spine. It was a tightness, a heaviness of purpose that I can’t describe. Is that what marriage does to a person?”

  “Your Highness,” said Adele, hiding a smile, “that’s what love does to a person.”

  He waved a hand, dismissing such romanticisms. “I can’t be in love. I only met her two days ago.”

  “Explain to me, then, why you fret about her welfare? Not only that, but you’ve been in my room for nearly five minutes and haven’t attempted so much as a tweak of my nipple. Good sir, are you turning into a devoted husband before you’ve even consummated your vows?”

  The consummation. That was what weighed
heaviest upon him. His bride would be in the nuptial chamber with the ladies now, freshly bathed, having flower petals drawn about her hair to scent and relax her.

  And here he was, in his secret lover’s room. But she spoke true: he hadn’t come for sex.

  “You have to help me,” he said. “I don’t want to hurt her when I join with her. She’s already been hurt in so many ways. Not in that way, but she’s fearful of men and has a head full of claptrap from those nuns at her convent.”

  Adele frowned. “That’s a shame.”

  He started pacing, aware of time passing, and the press of responsibility. By law, he had to accomplish this tonight, before the sun rose. “We’re little more than strangers,” he fretted. “It’s a bloody lot of nonsense.”

  “Are you attracted to your princess, at least? Or are you afraid you won’t be able to—”

  “I’ll be able to,” he said, coming to a stop by the window. “She arouses me beyond bearing. But what if she can’t? What if she won’t? What if I hurt her and she despises me forever?”

  “Dear boy, take a breath.” Adele rose and crossed to him, taking his hand and patting his fingers. The two of them looked out at the back gardens in the moonlight. “I know from experience that you’re a masterful lover,” she said. “You’re renowned for your bedroom prowess.”

  “Yes, as well as the dimensions of my ‘prowess,’ which won’t be a benefit tonight.”

  “Shh. Don’t speak ill of a wonderful thing.” She smiled. “You have all the skills you need to make her happy. You’ve studied well on the art of lovemaking, as many bonny wantons in the Kingdom of Hastings can attest. So any fears you’re feeling now are born of love.” She tilted her head. “Goodness, I never thought I’d see the day you’d fall in love. And with your own wife, no less.”

  “If this is love, I don’t enjoy it.”

  But he didn’t deny her words. He was possibly in love. He wanted to fly to his wife’s side as much as he wanted to die of apprehension.

  “What do I say to her?” he demanded impatiently. “Help me. What will make her relax? What will make her—” Love me back. He wanted the princess to want him, and to look at him with pleasure, not terror, when tonight’s duty was done.

  “I don’t know, Giddy,” Adele replied, so much calmer than him. “My advice would be to go slowly, to speak softly, and look in her eyes. Make her feel exquisite, then explain what is to happen when she’s aroused enough not to lose her nerve. Tell her that nothing between you is sinful. You must emphasize that, since she’s been taught otherwise. You must give her permission to let go, if she’s to find her own pleasure.”

  “Her own pleasure?” He threw up his hands. “Must I have that pressure on top of everything else? I only hope to take her virginity without injuring her.”

  Adele tsked. “I’m certain both of you can avoid bodily injury, although virgins sometimes bleed. Be prepared for that, so you don’t have to run for the smelling salts.”

  He tsked back at her, but she only smiled.

  “I’m glad you were my governess,” he said after a moment. “You taught me well.”

  “And you were an excellent student.”

  There was a sense of finality in her words, and a finality in this meeting that they both felt. “I’m not sure...” He paused and took a breath. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to visit you anymore, at least in the near future. It might be better if I don’t.”

  “I agree it might be better, dear Gideon. I’m most happy to return to being your ex-governess, with all the rights and privileges that entails. And, of course, I’ll always stand your friend should you need a sympathetic ear, or some womanly advice from someone who is not your mother.”

  She spoke so tenderly, he found he couldn’t reply for a moment because of the tightness in his throat.

  “I think it’s time for you to go to your bride,” Adele prompted. “Just remember: proceed slowly, and bring her along with you. Give her so much pleasure that she can’t feel discomfort even if it comes. I know that’s very much within your abilities, Your Highness.” She nudged him toward the doorway. “Your princess awaits.”

  Chapter Four

  The women accompanied Cassandra into a vast, dark-hued bedroom, the royal heir’s nuptial chamber. Her husband’s bedchamber. It reminded her of him because of the manly decor and solidity of the furniture. She had a suite next door, where the ladies had bathed and dressed her. There was a pathway between the rooms, not unlike the pathway he’d used to visit her in the other wing.

  He’d be visiting her tonight, and she tried to feel all right about that. This was womanhood and marriage. He’d kiss her and touch her, and then...what?

  Something that hurt, perhaps, so babies might come. The sisters had told her this was her duty, so her husband could have sons and daughters to carry on the family line. But the specifics of the act remained a mystery, referred to by the sisters in such vague terms as “joining,” “bedding,” or “marital congress.”

  Once the ladies had tucked her under the covers, they waited in a gossiping, giggling cluster beside the door for the groom to arrive. Cassandra rested, pretending to sleep, although she’d never be able to sleep.

  When the door opened with a faint click, she sat up straighter. The prince came in as the ladies filed out with words of blessing and congratulations. She could see more people outside the door, men and women, including the prince’s parents and her own father.

  She stiffened as they stared in at her. Would they enter? No, thank God. Gideon bid them good evening and shut the door. He stood a moment facing away from her, staring at the doorjamb before he turned. Cassandra realized she was holding her breath. This broad-shouldered stranger was her husband, so suddenly and unchangeably.

  He moved from the door and crossed toward her, wearing a faint smile. That smile allowed her to breathe again, and to study him with a sort of wonder.

  In place of his formal wedding clothes, he wore a velvet dressing gown of medium blue with embroidery in a pattern of vines, taken from the Hastings royal seal. She’d changed into nightclothes also, although her ivory shift was not as grand, nor as substantial as his princely attire.

  “I hope I haven’t kept you waiting too long.” He reached for her hand as he sat on the bed. He looked so different in his nightclothes, so much more male, that she had to steel herself not to shy away.

  They stared at each other. She wanted to cry out, please do it now, whatever you will do to me, so I won’t have to dread it anymore. But such histrionics would embarrass both of them. Instead she gave him a wobbly smile and said, “So, we are married now.”

  “Indeed. It was a lovely wedding. Everyone had a good time. My family seems to like you very much.”

  She nodded. “All of Hastings has been exceedingly kind and welcoming.”

  “But this talk is so polite. Let’s both admit that we’re exhausted, and that these royal receptions go on for six or seven hours too long.”

  She liked the bold, mischievous way he talked sometimes, and the sparkling glint in his eyes. The servants had built up the fire to burn bright this wedding evening, so he had even more of a golden glow. He’d looked that way all night, until she felt plain and dark sitting beside him.

  And standing in front of everyone for the dancing? That had been an excruciating trial.

  “Thank you for helping me to dance tonight,” she said. “It wasn’t nearly as scandalous an activity as the nuns made it sound.”

  “Scandalous? What is it with these nuns? Dancing’s a great deal of fun when you learn it properly, and it’s good exercise. You got the way of it by the end.”

  He drew her from the bed and into his arms before she knew what he was up to, and led her to the center of the room. He hummed the opening bars of their wedding dance, a tune she’d always remember, and guided her through the steps as he had in the ballroom, using the motion of his body and the prompting of his arms.

  But it was not the same, because
she felt undressed in her wispy nightgown, and his bare chest showed at the collar of his dressing gown, just where her eyes rested. He was golden even there, with a smattering of pale bronze fur. How bizarre. How lovely. How different men were.

  “I can tell you’ll grow very good at dancing,” he said, just as she stumbled. Both of them laughed. “It will only take practice, and a few lessons. We don’t outlaw dancing here.”

  He dipped her over his arm and she stared up at him, her neck bared to his gaze. He smiled that strange smile and righted her, and she thought, now he will take me to bed. Her own smile wavered, because she meant to be brave but wasn’t quite managing it. Your body will be his, the sisters had said. Pray to God while it’s happening, and keep your mind pure.

  But instead of the bed, he took her to the window, and pointed out at all the carriages crowded into the courtyard. “No one has left yet,” he said, and indeed, the sounds of celebration still carried from the lower hall. “Do you know that in olden times in Hastings, generations ago, royal wedding nights were witnessed by the king’s council and other invited guests?”

  “What? Witnessed? What does that mean?”

  “It means that when the royal couple went to bed, they didn’t go alone, as we are now.” He looked around the bedroom, grimacing. “The councilmen and guests stayed until the groom had carnal knowledge of his bride, and took the bloodied sheets away as evidence that the royal marriage had been satisfactorily consummated.”

  She shuddered at the word bloodied, and wondered with growing panic what carnal knowledge meant.

  “I know,” he said in sympathy. “And you thought the dancing was embarrassing. Fortunately for both of us, my great-great-grandmother Queen Violetta and her consort put an end to the tradition after their wedding night. They said it was cruel to invade the privacy of newlywed couples in such a way.” He cupped her chin as she bit her lower lip. “The first time a couple makes love should be special and private, whether it’s a royal alliance or not.”