WARNING: This might be the longest review I'll ever write...
I'd be lying if I said this book didn't piss me off. Much as appreciate the standard elements of a historical romance novel, I often find myself annoyed by either the heroine, the hero, or the many, many unnecessary ways they choose to wound each other. Even the best of these books show immaturity by the main characters. The worst demonstrate every stereotypical extreme that exists within the genre.
Taken for what it is, The Rebel Bride isn't a bad book. There's a discernible flavor in the world this author creates, and her characters feel alive. From the beginning, I enjoyed both Katherine and Julien. Though neither were perfect, I thought they complimented one another. Because this is often rare for me in historicals (within the first hundred pages I typically hate either the guy or the girl), I was enthusiastically anticipating their union.
Then their antics began. Katherine doesn't want to marry, for reasons even she doesn't fully understand. She considers Julien a friend, and is disappointed - even hurt - that he wants more. To give Julien his due, he does actually propose in a very charming, forthright manner. He believes himself in love, and cannot understand why this girl - whom he knows cares for him - rejects the idea of marriage.
I won't linger on his high-handed decision to force her to comply with his wishes. At this point, I still wanted them together. I was amused by Katherine's efforts to thwart him, and pleased that Julien took these in stride. He appreciated Katherine for what she was. He didn't want to change her. For the first time in a long time, I believed the notion that this historical hero was really in love.
Unfortunately, it went downhill from here. (Spoilers Ahead)
Katherine has a real fear of intimacy. She struggles with her husband's desire and, though he doesn't force himself on her, the knowledge that their marriage will not forever go unconsummated ruins what is truly a very delightful relationship.
Julien is trying. His bride is afraid of sex. He isn't oblivious to this, and is trying to be understanding that an inexperienced young woman might not be too eager to jump into the sack. From his internal monologue, however, one can almost feel what's about to unfold.
Long story short, Julien dons a mask and abducts his wife. Taking her to a secluded area, he ties her up and blindfolds her, beginning a slow, anonymous seduction. He believes that if he can introduce her to pleasure (by forcing her to experience passion), they can finally begin to have a real marriage.
Are there problems with this idea? Hell yes. Not only is Katherine afraid of sex, generally, she most certainly wouldn't want to respond to some strange dude who just kidnapped her. Even so, I was willing to put logic behind me and go with the flow here. I did want them together, after all, and - if it worked, I'd be on board with that... especially given the care the author took with this questionable approach.
Look, I've read a lot of rape scenes in romance novels. I mean a LOT. It was a staple of 70s romance and I'd devoured hundreds before I was twenty. Anyway, this is the first time I truly bought the good intentions of the hero. He doesn't want to hurt his wife. The reader understands that he wants nothing more than to open her eyes, and fix whatever problems have led to the current state of affairs in their marriage. Julien could have had no idea those problems were much more serious, more permanent, more damaging than a virgin's fear of sex.
See, Katherine isn't a virgin. Because this is a historical and that's a no-no, I'll explain the reasons why in a minute. For now, let's focus on Julien's reaction to that revelation. He put too much stock in his own assumption (which was, to be fair, realistic) that inexperience drove her fears. He'd been patient. He'd tried to be understanding. He'd come up with the perfect (dumbass) idea to free her from preconceived notions, and he'd seduced her with the utmost care. When he realizes that she's not quite so innocent, he loses it. She wasn't what he thought she was, so he stops treating her like a human being.
I stopped liking Julien right here, though I can't say he was beyond redemption for me. He was going to need to grovel. I wouldn't have minded someone beating the shit out of him - preferably Katherine. I wanted him to pay dearly, for a long time. Did I hate him? Well, no. The time period of this novel prevented me from completely detesting him. This is a historical romance, after all, and to embrace the genre readers must also embrace the hard rules enforced therein.
Anyway, Julien is angry and disgusted with both himself and with her. He no longer has any desire to reveal himself to her, and basically drugs her and leaves. Katherine gets herself home. She's devastated, physically wounded, emotionally destroyed. She tries to tell her husband what happened to her and he cuts her off, insisting that she had a fall, riding. Somewhat gratefully, Katherine accepts the story and goes to bed. That night, she wakes in the throes of a nightmare, and her past is revealed to her husband.
Katherine never gave herself to any man. As a young child, she was gang-raped, and her mind blocked the memory of the attack - until her husband's similar attack forced those long-forgotten nightmares to the surface.
To be honest, most of my pleasure in this book was gone at this point. I read with cynical eyes, waiting for the redemption of a hero who does actually begin to hate himself almost as much as I want him to. While I appreciated that the author shows this guilt, and has her characters react with mostly realistic behavior afterwards, it was never quite enough for me.
Yes, Julien becomes a pretty selfless husband working diligently to "heal" his wife. He demands nothing from her, spends every waking moment entertaining her and putting her at ease, while striving to resolve the deeper issues of her past, and his present crimes. He knows, for example, that he will have to admit to what he's done. There are complications that demand explanation, and he can't avoid the truth, but Katherine is suffering from too many traumas already. What further damage could he cause by admitting to what he's done?
This is a difficult situation, requiring a skilled approach from the author. While I think she was on the right track, initially, the ending just didn't work for me. This was a book with many deep, uncomfortable issues woven throughout. I didn't expect, nor did I want, a quick, neat-and-tidy wrap up using an obnoxious plot device that never really belonged.
In my opinion, Julien was on the road to redemption. Circumstances left him with no choice but to confess to his crimes during a less-than-ideal moment, and pray that his wife could forgive him. Was Katherine calm and understanding? No. Should she have been? Hell NO! This heroine had suffered so greatly, was she not entitled to vent? To rage against him? To want to punish him in any way possible? The author, evidently, didn't think so.
Though I struggled with this novel from about the halfway mark, it was the ending that completely ruined it for me - a case of not nearly enough of what I needed to see, and far too much of what I couldn't stand.