"Somehow it left a different impression this time around. Perhaps it was the circumstances under which I read it. Your maid was sobbing into one of my best linen handkerchiefs at the time. Duckett was hovering about like a mourner at a funeral. Mrs. Hickinbotham was ranting and raving about how I would undoubtedly find you shot dead on the road by a highwayman. Or worse."
Emily was momentarily diverted. "What could have been worse than being shot by a highwayman?"
"I believe Mrs. Hickinbotham had visions of you suffering a fate worse than death," Simon explained blandly.
Emily gave her husband a quick, accusing glance. "Some might say I already suffered that last night, my lord."
Simon surprised her with a faint smile. "Was it really that bad, Emily?"
She heaved a sigh. "Well, no, actually. As I told Celeste, it was a night of near-transcendent bliss."
"Good God," Simon muttered.
"I have been thinking about it a great deal and I have decided it was not entirely your fault that the experience was not what it should have been, my lord. After all, you did tell me you had never done that sort of thing before."
"Did I say that?"
"Yes, you did. So I imagine part of our problem was that we were both a bit inexperienced at creating transcendental unions and such. Bound to be a few problems in the early stages." She gave him a hopeful look. "Do you not agree, my lord?"
"It is very generous of you not to blame me entirely for failing to transport you to a higher plane, my dear."
Emily frowned, detecting sarcasm. "Yes, well, perhaps the problems with the physical portion of our union were not all your fault, but that does not excuse you for what happened later. You were most unkind and I left you that note with the lines from my poem about urns and such because I thought it rather apt."
"Apt? You get yourself embroiled in a potentially dangerous situation, we are miles from home on a wet and exceedingly unpleasant night, we are obliged to put up in a shabby little inn with bad food and worse beds, and all because you chose to indulge yourself in a fit of the sulks. Madam, let me tell you I did not find romantical references to broken hearts and broken urns at all apt."
"My heart was broken," Emily declared passionately. "You broke it this morning when you told me that last night had meant nothing to you."
"I did not say that, Emily."
"Yes, you did. You told me that what I took to be a transcendent union of like souls was nothing more than mere lust." All the resentment welled up inside her once again. "What's more, you were perfectly horrid to me simply because I had gone out into the gardens to say farewell to my father. I know he has his faults, but he is my father and you have no right to forbid me to see him or the twins."
"I did not forbid you to see them, Emily. I merely said you would not see them on your own."
"I cannot allow you to restrict me like that."
"You are my wife," Simon reminded her, his voice growing dangerously soft. "I have every right to restrict you in any way I feel is appropriate. The actions I have taken are for your own good."
"Rubbish." Emily flared. "They are to prevent me from continuing to manage my family's financial affairs. It is another element in your revenge plot and that is all there is to it."
"Your father has taken advantage of your business talents for years."
"What does that signify? You married me for those same talents. You only want to use me, too."
"You were the one who begged me to marry you," Simon said through set teeth. "Or have you forgotten so soon how you bargained with me that day by the stream? You have gotten what you wanted, Emily. You are now my countess. You must abide by the terms of our agreement."
Emily's fingers twisted together as she looked at her husband in defiant anguish. "I did not realize you meant to cut my family off completely from me."
"It is only the financial connections I am severing completely."
"But you allowed my father to think you would not cut him off entirely," she reminded him.
Simon smiled coldly. "Yes, I did dangle that lure for a while. It made everything so much easier, you see."
"You are taking your vengeance too far, my lord."
"You, my sweet, know nothing about vengeance."
"And you do?"
"Oh, yes," Simon said softly. "I have spent twenty-three years dreaming of it. Now, I have had enough of this topic. My notion of revenge need no longer concern you. You are my wife and you will henceforth conduct yourself in a manner befitting your title as Countess of Blade. Is that quite clear, Emily?"
Emily's heart sank. "What if I do not wish to be your countess any longer?"
"That is most unfortunate because it is too late to change your mind. You surrendered to your romantic impulses and excessive passions, my dear, and now you must pay for the experience."
"But, Simon, we shall both be so grossly unhappy if we continue as we are. Surely you must see that."
"Nonsense," Simon said heartlessly. "There is no reason this marriage should not work very well. If I had not reached that conclusion several weeks ago, I would not have gone through with it. You will make me a suitable countess once you have settled down to the business. In any event, there is no going back. An annulment is out of the question and I will certainly not allow you to contemplate a divorce. I know you treasure your scandalous past, but a divorce would be too much even for you to handle. And I, of course, have my title to consider."
"Yes, of course." Emily studied her clenched hands, aware of a guilty sense of relief. A divorce was naturally out of the question. She was bound to Simon for the rest of her life.
The rest of her life. Emily's mood began to lighten. Much could change in a lifetime, she told herself with renewed optimism, including a man's attitude toward his wife.
Simon's gaze grew even more stern. "Now, listen well, Emily, because I do not wish to find myself forced to chase after a runaway wife again. There will be no more haring off for parts unknown whenever you happen to feel unsatisfied with your lot in life. There will be no more miserable little poems left behind with your maid. I am prepared to grant you a fair amount of freedom but you will obey the few rules I do impose, the principal one being that you are not to see any member of your family unless I am present. Do I make myself clear?"
Emily eyed him through lowered lashes. "Very clear, my lord. It all sounds perfectly horrid. Not at all what I had envisioned marriage to you would be like."
Simon's mouth curved faintly. "You must look on the bright side, my dear. You are a creature of excessive passions. Now you are free to indulge those passions. Concentrate on that end of things and the rest will fall nicely into place."
That was too much. Emily was incensed by the condescending words. "Elias Prendergast once offered me the same opportunity. I was not interested then and I am not interested now. I can restrain my excessive passions until such time as they can be indulged with someone who is capable of a truly noble, spiritual, and metaphysical connection."
All signs of complacency vanished from Simon's expression in the blink of an eye. The dragon's golden gaze was suddenly ablaze. "I am well aware that married women of the ton frequently conduct affairs, but you will not even contemplate a liaison with another man. Understand me well, Emily. I do not share what is mine and as of last night you are most definitely mine."
Emily eyed him uneasily. "Celeste said you had picked up strange notions living in the East."
"If it is any consolation, I have always been inclined to guard what is mine. Living in the East only served to teach me various ways of doing so more thoroughly and efficiently."