The Rebel Bride by Catherine Coulter

He’d imagined her screaming at him like a demented fishwife, perhaps cursing him until their French host came scrambling out of his kitchen in alarm. But she didn’t say a word, just sat there, staring at him, her face as pale as her collar, her fingers clutching her butter knife.

She couldn’t look away from him now. He looked completely in control, his power over her limitless. She saw no signs of affection for her, no gentleness, merely a man who had run her to ground as if she were a fox in the hunt. He’d shamed her, lied to her, humiliated her. He probably only insisted upon wedding her because she’d refused him. He wished to own her, to add her as one of his possessions. He was utterly ruthless.

She gathered her scattered remnants of pride together and raised her face to his. She even managed a dollop of contempt. “I’m not a piece of property or a possession to be sold to the highest bidder, my lord. I fear you’ve made a sorry bargain with my father and are now out some guineas. You act as though I were some sort of prized animal, a wretched horse to be sold.”

“Surely not. You’re anything but a horse, but if the simile pleases you, then you must make it accurate. A filly, Kate, a filly.”

He leaned toward her in a conciliatory gesture to take her hand in his, but she snatched her hand away and drew back away from him as far as she could in her chair.

“It was a jest, no more. Come now, at least give me a smile to reward my effort, paltry though you found it.”

She was as silent as her silverware.

“Very well. I have no intention of prostrating myself at your feet. Now, it’s time we got on with your shopping. You wouldn’t wish to be late for your own wedding, now, would you?”

“Damn you to the devil. I won’t go with you, Julien. And you can’t force me, surely you can’t. This is a very public place. Surely if you tried to coerce me, someone would stop you. There are gentlemen in this world, there must be.”

He only sighed. “Very well. Let me outline the alternative for you. If you don’t come willingly with me, I shall take you forcibly to my lodgings, or if you prefer, I shall simply render you unconscious and carry you there. If our host appears at all interested, I shall say that you’ve fallen ill. If you choose to continue in this obstinate manner, I’ll force a certain drug that I now have in my possession down your white throat. It’s very efficacious, I assure you, and will make you very pliant, Katharine, as pliant as a puppet, so pliant and agreeable that you’ll probably take your clothes off in front of me and do a little dance.”

He paused a moment to ensure that she understood his threat.

“Then I’ll dress you myself in your wedding finery and take you unresisting to the embassy.”

“Surely even you wouldn’t do that.”

“Most assuredly I shall, if you force me to. I’ve been remarkably patient, considering what you’ve put me through, but I find now that I’ve had quite enough of your antics.”

Perhaps Hugh and Percy were correct, he thought, I am quite mad. Had someone told him even a month ago that he would force a young lady of quality to marry him, he would have thought it a ludicrous joke. Damn her for forcing him to go to such lengths. Or damn him for wanting her more than he’d ever wanted anyone or anything in his adult life. Why the devil wouldn’t she simply admit she wanted him, even if she had to dredge down to her very being to find that caring, it was quite time she did it.

“Damn you, if I were but a man—”

“That is the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard you say. If you were a man, this conversation would never take place. Now, will you or will you not obey me?”

She felt suddenly very tired. She felt empty and beaten down. Even her fear of marriage to this man, never far away from her thoughts, was now effectively quelled. She raised her eyes to his, perhaps hoping to find some weakness, some uncertainty written there. But there was none. He was implacable and she knew it.