Sweet Bravado by Alicia Meadowes Page B

Confused and bewildered, Nicole lay motionless, throbbing in every
     nerve.
    “Any complaints this time?” he taunted, then walked away to stare moodily out of the window.
    Nicole stumbled to her feet, seated herself on the divan, and unconsciously began to smooth her tumbled hair and wrinkled
     clothing. She had surrendered, and all he could do was mock her. “I despise you,” she cried in humiliation.
    “You don’t mean that,” he taunted again.
    “Oh, but I do! Lord, how I loathe you and all the Har-courts! Why don’t you go away and leave me alone?”
    “Stop this nonsense, Nicole!” Valentin came toward her.
    “When will your insufferable pride accept the fact that I don’t want or need you!” She remained vehement.
    Stunned, the Viscount hesitated, then shrugged his shoulders with resignation. “Very well, if that’s the way you feel, I shall
     oblige you. I have had enough of this temperament.” Without another word he stalked out of the summer house slamming the door
     behind him.
    Some time later Nicole stirred from the cramped position in which she had sat since her husband had walked out on her. Returning
     to the chateau, she saw that the place was a blaze of lights and that the door stood open. Valentin’s curricle was drawn up
     in front of the portico and his valet was strapping a valise to it. Trying to control her chaotic thoughts, she crossed to
     the entrance just as Valentin, dressed for riding, emerged.
    “Val?” she faltered. “Where, where are you going?”
    “As you suggested, away… to Vienna.” He pulled herout of hearing distance of the servants. “That should effectively remove me from your world.”
    Merciful heavens, what was he saying? She had to stop him, but he was still speaking.
    “After all a
marriage of convenience
such as ours doesn’t necessitate our living together. You may journey to London with my mother. And furthermore your self-righteous
     attitude is becoming a bore.”
    Nicole’s lips quivered and her eyes filled with tears. All the things she most feared were falling from his lips, but her
     stiff pride refused to allow her to protest.
    “Damn you, don’t cry about it,” he hissed. “These are your own wishes, aren’t they?” He paused. “Well, aren’t they?”
    “Yes, yes! I can’t wait until you are out of my life for good!” How could she be saying these things? What perversity drove
     her?
    “That can be easily arranged,” he drawled and sprang into the waiting curricle. Wielding his whip to the horses, they leapt
     and plunged ahead spraying stones and gravel as they gathered speed and carried him out of her life.
    She watched thunderstruck until Pierre, who had been hovering nearby, placed an envelope into her hand saying, “From his lordship,
     my lady.”
    In a daze Nicole made her way to her room where she read a list of instructions from the Viscount. The last was the most devastating—he
     would not interfere in her life as long as she remained discreet. Oh God, what had she done? Flinging herself across the bed,
     she cried until she slept as in a nightmare. Visions of Valentin as he scorned her haunted her tortured sleep.
    She awoke to a household buzzing with the fact that his lordship had departed leaving his wife behind. She refused to leave
     her room, hoping against hope for the return of her bridegroom, but he did not come.
    When Nicole finally left her room, it was under the surreptitious surveillance of the servants who watched the girl wander
     aimlessly about the silent chateau.
    In the back rooms of the villa rumors were rife about the departed bridegroom and his forsaken bride. Snatches of past conversation
     were repeated, exaggerated and expanded during the course of the retelling. The Viscount’s sudden departure; Nicole’s weeping
     into the night; her silence for over twenty-four hours; no word from him; no action from her. What could it mean? But the
     bride remained oblivious to their speculations.
    Late