At that moment the chaise lurched violently, throwing them both to the opposite seat. As they sprawled on the cushions, Julien automatically released her. She scrambled away from him, clutching desperately at the door. He grabbed her hand and pulled her upright opposite him. All desire and anger left him as he stared at her white, shocked face.
Julien turned and looked out the chaise window. They were moving at a comfortable pace again. He methodically straightened his clothes and his cravat. He felt rather irritated at her. For God’s sake, she was still fully clothed. If he had his way, she’d be sitting there naked and white and soft and he’d be sweating and heaving with lust just looking at her. Still, he had scared the bloody hell out of her. But she was his wife, she was his and . . . “I apologize for being so enthusiastic. I didn’t mean to scare you.” He was beginning to feel the clumsy fool and thus spoke with a harshness of voice he didn’t intend. He saw her eyes darken with sudden anger. Trust her not to hold to calm and control for very long.
He drew a deep breath and continued in a more controlled voice. “The fact is, we’re man and wife. Can you not doubt that I wish to consummate our marriage, or, for that matter, that I wish you to bear my children? Although you cannot yet bring yourself to admit it, ours is a love match and not a marriage of convenience.”
“I would rather die than let you touch me, do you understand, my lord? Ours is no love match, for I feel none for you, and your treatment of me— well, you speak well, my lord, as fluently as the devil trying to bargain for a new soul. But you cloak your lust with words of love. You disgust me, Julien. Do you hear?”
He curbed his fury. To match her anger would achieve naught. She was overwrought, and his sudden passion for her had made her totally unreasonable. He said with surprising gentleness, “Enough said, Kate. Believe me, though, I will make you my wife, in every way. I love you, and soon you’ll come to trust me.”
“You dream, my lord, you believe your own fantasies. In truth, I would sooner trust any one of the Carlton House set than you, and Harry has told me that group is reprehensible, dissolute and hardened gamesters.”
“Harry doesn’t know the half of it,” he said. “Actually, I’m not at all a hardened gamester.”
She rearranged her bonnet, which was sitting precariously atop her hair, folded her hands primly in her lap, and looked out, unseeing, onto the French countryside.
* * *
They arrived in Geneva late in the afternoon three days later. Kate found she simply couldn’t restrain her appreciation when Lake Geneva came into view. Though it was early September, the mountains surrounding the lake were snowcapped, and the setting sun cast a fairyland glow on the water.
“Oh goodness, how lovely it is.”
“Yes, it is rather beautiful. I’m delighted you’ve changed your opinion.”
She drew back into the chaise and fastened her eyes on the cushions. “Well, perhaps it is passable.”
She couldn’t prevent her eyes from going to his face, and she saw his brows rise in ironic amusement. She flushed, mortified at her own churlishness, and wanted to cosh him at the same time for making her so very much aware of it.
Soon, though, she became absorbed with the endless rows of quaint shops that lined the cobblestone streets, each sporting colorful signs and displays. The Swiss themselves, no less colorfully arrayed than their shop fronts, bustled out onto the walkways, apparently hurrying to their homes for the evening.
The Coeur de Lyon was a two-storied, gabled brick building of some antiquity, which stood back from the street, nearly hidden from view by giant elm trees. The courtyard surged with activity, and no sooner did their chaise pull to a halt than two stable lads appeared to grab the reins.
She allowed Julien to assist her from the chaise and was thankful that she had done so, for her legs were weak from their long-cramped position. She looked up to see a very rotund, quite bald little man emerge from the auberge to greet them.
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