Tallie's Knight
Page 19
country, having escaped Madame Guillotine once already! With some
difficulty Magnus managed to drag his boots off. And all the time, he
thought, in spite of his own desires and frustrations, he had treated
her with unfailing politeness and consideration.
But did she show the slightest bit of gratitude for her husband's
generosity and forbearance? No! Not she! Magnus hurled his boots
across the room. She had taken herself off to bed without a murmur,
completely unmoved by the delights he had offered her! Even now she
was disrobing, preparing herself for bed, only too happy to snuggle
into bed alone. She would have removed that dull stuff gown, rolled
her stockings down over those smooth calves and dainty ankles,
discarded her petticoat and chemise and was probably--even now-standing
naked, warm and pink and glowing, preparing to don that hideous
voluminous monstrosity she called a nightgown!
Well, he would not stand for it! She was his wife. A husband had
rights! She had no business making him wait until Paris! He snatched
his dressing gown from the end of the bed, threw it on, and in bare
feet crossed the hall from his chamber to hers, barely remembering to
knock as he flung open her door.
"Oh! Magnus! Is there something wrong?"
"Why is your door not locked?" he snapped, staring at her, outraged.
She was bent over a dish of water, up to her elbows in soap, clad in
that dreadful nightgown and an even worse dressing gown. With not an
inch of skin to be seen.
"Oh, I must have forgotten it."
"See you do not forget it in future. Anyone could have just walked
in."
She looked at him for a long moment and a tiny smile appeared on her
face.
"Someone just did."
"Who the devil was it?" he thundered, glaring round the room.
Tallie giggled and bit her lip.
"You, my lord."
Magnus stared at her for a moment. The tips of his ears turned faintly
pink.
"Ah, yes... well... hrmph he said, and strolled around her chamber,
glaring at the neat, untouched bed, her clothes hanging tidily on the
hooks behind the door.
Tallie resumed her washing. The motion drew his attention.
"What are you doing?"
She blushed.
"Just rinsing out a few things."
He strode over and stared at the basin.
"What the deuce are
Curse the woman! What was the matter with her? Magnus watched her go,
watched the sway of her hips under the dreary gown she wore. She was
dressed like the veriest drab and he had promised her the finest gowns
money could buy. So why could she not offer him at least a smile? Any
one of the mistresses he had kept in the past would have shrieked with
delight and flung her arms around his neck at such an offer. She--his
wife--had responded with a dutiful murmur of obedience!
Damn it! He would never understand women! Here he was, allowing
himself to be dragged off to foreign parts for her benefit, enduring
bad roads, poor accommodation and hard- mouthed horses for her benefit,
opening his purse for her benefit and--not least of all--restraining
his desires for her benefit!
And was she grateful? Not in the least! Swearing, Magnus took himself
off to his cold, empty chamber and his cold, empty bed. He brooded on
his wife's unnatural behaviour as he disrobed. He'd wanted a plain,
convenient, grateful wife! Hah! He shrugged himself out of his tight
coat and tossed it on the bed. She was none of those.
Plain! Even the dowdy gowns she wore hadn't been able to disguise her
attractions--not since his so-called wedding night, when he'd put her
to bed. He ripped off his cravat and shirt and flung them on a
chair.
And as for convenient--why, that was sheer bloody fustian! He sat down
on the bed. She was putting him to a vast deal of blasted
inconvenience, he thought, tugging furiously at his long boots. He'd
even had to do without his valet because of her passion to go to
France--the fool had been too frightened to return to his native
country, having escaped Madame Guillotine once already! With some
difficulty Magnus managed to drag his boots off. And all the time, he
thought, in spite of his own desires and frustrations, he had treated
her with unfailing politeness and consideration.
But did she show the slightest bit of gratitude for her husband's
generosity and forbearance? No! Not she! Magnus hurled his boots
across the room. She had taken herself off to bed without a murmur,
completely unmoved by the delights he had offered her! Even now she
was disrobing, preparing herself for bed, only too happy to snuggle
into bed alone. She would have removed that dull stuff gown, rolled
her stockings down over those smooth calves and dainty ankles,
discarded her petticoat and chemise and was probably--even now-standing
naked, warm and pink and glowing, preparing to don that hideous
voluminous monstrosity she called a nightgown!
Well, he would not stand for it! She was his wife. A husband had
rights! She had no business making him wait until Paris! He snatched
his dressing gown from the end of the bed, threw it on, and in bare
feet crossed the hall from his chamber to hers, barely remembering to
knock as he flung open her door.
"Oh! Magnus! Is there something wrong?"
"Why is your door not locked?" he snapped, staring at her, outraged.
She was bent over a dish of water, up to her elbows in soap, clad in
that dreadful nightgown and an even worse dressing gown. With not an
inch of skin to be seen.
"Oh, I must have forgotten it."
"See you do not forget it in future. Anyone could have just walked
in."
She looked at him for a long moment and a tiny smile appeared on her
face.
"Someone just did."
"Who the devil was it?" he thundered, glaring round the room.
Tallie giggled and bit her lip.
"You, my lord."
Magnus stared at her for a moment. The tips of his ears turned faintly
pink.
"Ah, yes... well... hr mph he said, and strolled around her chamber,
glaring at the neat, untouched bed, her clothes hanging tidily on the
hooks behind the door.
Tallie resumed her washing. The motion drew his attention.
"What are you doing?"
She blushed.
"Just rinsing out a few things."
He strode over and stared at the basin.
"What the deuce are
Curse the woman! What was the matter with her? Magnus watched her go,
watched the sway of her hips under the dreary gown she wore. She was
dressed like the veri est drab and he had promised her the finest gowns
money could buy. So why could she not offer him at least a smile? Any
one of the mistresses he had kept in the past would have shrieked with
delight and flung her arms around his neck at such an offer. She--his
wife--had responded with a dutiful murmur of obedience!
Damn it! He would never understand women! Here he was, allowing
himself to be dragged off to foreign par
ts for her benefit, enduring
bad roads, poor accommodation and hard- mouthed horses for her benefit,
opening his purse for her benefit and--not least of all--restraining
his desires for her benefit!
And was she grateful? Not in the least! Swearing, Magnus took himself
off to his cold, empty chamber and his cold, empty bed. He brooded on
his wife's unnatural behaviour as he disrobed. He'd wanted a plain,
convenient, grateful wife! Hah! He shrugged himself out of his tight
coat and tossed it on the bed. She was none of those.
Plain! Even the dowdy gowns she wore hadn't been able to disguise her
attractions--not since his so-called wedding night, when he'd put her
to bed. He ripped off his cravat and shirt and flung them on a
chair.
And as for convenient--why, that was sheer bloody fustian! He sat down
on the bed. She was putting him to a vast deal of blasted
inconvenience, he thought, tugging furiously at his long boots. He'd
even had to do without his valet because of her passion to go to
France--the fool had been too frightened to return to his native
country, having escaped Madame Guillotine once already! With some
difficulty Magnus managed to drag his boots off. And all the time, he
thought, in spite of his own desires and frustrations, he had treated
her with unfailing politeness and consideration.
But did she show the slightest bit of gratitude for her husband's
generosity and forbearance? No! Not she! Magnus hurled his boots
across the room. She had taken herself off to bed without a murmur,
completely unmoved by the delights he had offered her! Even now she
was disrobing, preparing herself for bed, only too happy to snuggle
into bed alone. She would have removed that dull stuff gown, rolled
her stockings down over those smooth calves and dainty ankles,
discarded her petticoat and chemise and was probably--even now-standing
naked, warm and pink and glowing, preparing to don that hideous
voluminous monstrosity she called a nightgown!
Well, he would not stand for it! She was his wife. A husband had
rights! She had no business making him wait until Paris! He snatched
his dressing gown from the end of the bed, threw it on, and in bare
feet crossed the hall from his chamber to hers, barely remembering to
knock as he flung open her door.
"Oh! Magnus! Is there something wrong?"
"Why is your door not locked?" he snapped, staring at her, outraged.
She was bent over a dish of water, up to her elbows in soap, clad in
that dreadful nightgown and an even worse dressing gown. With not an
inch of skin to be seen.
"Oh, I must have forgotten it."
"See you do not forget it in future. Anyone could have just walked
in."
She looked at him for a long moment and a tiny smile appeared on her
face.
"Someone just did."
"Who the devil was it?" he thundered, glaring round the room.
Tallie giggled and bit her lip.
"You, my lord."
Magnus stared at her for a moment. The tips of his ears turned faintly
pink.
"Ah, yes... well... hr mph he said, and strolled around her chamber,
glaring at the neat, untouched bed, her clothes hanging tidily on the
hooks behind the door.
Tallie resumed her washing. The motion drew his attention.
"What are you doing?"
She blushed.
"Just rinsing out a few things."
He strode over and stared at the basin.
"What the deuce are you doing that for? There are maids for that sort
of thing. My wife does not wash clothes!"
"It's nothing, just a few bits and pieces," she said, trying
unsuccessfully to hide them from his sight. They were her
underclothes, he realised--he recognised the patches. He had a set
just like them in his valise, with the tapes cut.
"I don't care what they are--get the maid to do it."
"But I don't want the maid to see--' She broke off, her cheeks rosy
with embarrassment.
"See what?" he said, puzzled. A thought occurred to him.
"You're not ... is it your time of month?"
Tallie's face flamed.
"No!" she gasped, horrified. She had not known men even knew of such
things.
Magnus indulgently observed her flaming cheeks. His innocent little
wife was easily flustered. He rather enjoyed it, found it surprisingly
arousing, though he did not intend she should realise it. He shrugged.
"Then what do you not wish the maid to see?"
Tallie was infuriated by the cool enquiry.
"It is nothing to do with you. I will do as I like in my own
bedchamber. There is no one to see me--you need not worry about what
people will think!"
'You will do as I tell--' "I am your wife, not a slave--' " Exactly!
And I will not have my countess washing clothes! " Magnus stared at
her, baffled by her intransigence over such a trivial matter. What the
devil was wrong with the wench? Most women who'd had a life like hers
would lap up the luxury of having unpleasant little tasks done by a
servant. Why would she want to wash her own underclothes? And what
did she not wish the maids to see? As if the maids had not seen
underclothes before--and a damned sight better- The truth suddenly hit
him with the force of a blow to the midriff. She was embarrassed. Not
because her unmentionables needed washing, but because they were in
such appalling condition--patched and darned and ill-fitting. She had
pride, his little wife, too much pride to have a maid pity her for her
lack of adequate clothing. Again he called down silent curses on his
cousin's head for her lack of care for Tallie. He vowed his wife would
never again have cause to be embarrassed by her clothing. The moment
they arrived in Paris he would procure her the finest garments that
money could buy. From the skin out.
He shrugged nonchalantly.
"Very well, then, I will tolerate it this time. But once we reach
Paris, mind, you shall leave all tasks of that nature to the servants."
He strolled over and sat on the bed.
Tallie stared at him a moment, stunned by his abrupt volte face. Then
a fresh thought hit her. He had come to her bedchamber. He was
sitting on her bed. In his dressing gown.
He was going to lie with her again.
With shaking hands she hurriedly finished rinsing out her petticoat and
chemise, anticipation and excitement rising within her. She darted
quick little glances at him as she worked. His large, strong hands
fiddled with items on the bedside table. Tallie shivered with
pleasure, imagining the way those hands would soon move across her
skin, knowing her, possessing her.
He wanted her again. The thought thrilled her. Quickly she wrung out
the clothes and laid them over the back of a wooden chair, out of his
sight, then moved shyly towards the bed.
Blushing, she slipped out of her dressing gown and climbed into the
high bed beside him.
"M... Magnus..." she whispered.
He turned towards her, cupped her chin in his hand and gazed deep into
her eye
s.
"It is not too soon? You do not mind?" His breath caressed her skin.
His voice was low and deep and resonated through her bones like music.
She blushed, shook her head, and raised her face for his kiss.
Tallie learnt two new things about the marriage act that night. First,
that it didn't hurt the second time--not one little bit. And, second,
that it was very much more difficult for her to remain still and
dignified while her husband's ministrations evoked all sorts of
wondrous and thrilling feelings. It took all her will-power, every bit
of concentration and determination she possessed, to lie passively
under him, making no sound or movement, as her cousin had warned her
to.
But she managed it.
The very most she allowed herself was to press several soft, moist
kisses on his chest and jaw--and that was only after he had fallen
asleep. He could not be disgusted by what he did not know she did. And
he could not know the intense pleasure she gained from snuggling up to
his warm, relaxed, naked body while he slept.
She was very proud of her efforts, too. She wanted so much to be a