by Cheryl Holt
“Are you a closet drinker, Mrs. Harlow?” he asked.
She whipped around. “No, but the occasion seems to demand it.”
She hesitated, not sure if she should continue or set the decanter down.
“Don’t stop on my account,” he said.
“All right, I won’t.”
“And pour a tall one for me, would you?”
She filled two glasses as he came over and stood next to her. She gave him one, and they stared, the air swirling with so many unvoiced comments that she was dizzy.
She was grateful to note that he was still clothed. From Edwina’s vague remarks, Clarissa had half-expected him to walk in naked. If he had, she’d have expired from mortification.
He’d shed his coat though and was dressed in casual attire, his shirt open at the front and showing too much bare chest. On seeing all that exposed male flesh, butterflies swarmed in her stomach.
“It was a long day,” he said. “I’m exhausted.”
“So am I.”
“Are you nervous?”
“A little.”
“Would you believe me if I admitted I was nervous too?”
“No. I doubt you’ve ever been nervous about anything in your life.”
“You could be correct.”
He grinned that grin of his, the one that made him look like the worst rogue in the kingdom. How did a woman deflect that grin? How did she avoid its force and charm?
She started to gulp her whiskey, and he stilled her hand.
“How many have you had?” he asked.
“Two so far.”
“Well, slow down, would you? I don’t want you comatose. It would wound my manly pride. I might never recover.”
“It would require more than my intoxication to wound your enormous pride.”
“Yes, but I’d hate to tell the fellows later on that my bride slept through our wedding night.”
She gaped with horror. “You’d tell people about it?”
He laughed, then quieted. “No, Clarissa, I wouldn’t tell anyone. I was joking. Give me some credit.”
He was standing so close, and his proximity flustered her. She felt hot all over, but cold too. She was anxious and wary, and she yearned to grab him and demand he get on with it. She wanted him to never get on with it.
Oh, but wasn’t she a fine mess!
“I wish you’d have let me stay in my old room,” she said. “Just for tonight. I’d have been more comfortable.”
“I realize that, but I learned ages ago that you have to don the trappings of authority—if you ever intend to exert any. Which I do. This house has always been owned by the Merricks, and the servants are used to following orders from Roland and Angela. Not you and me. We have to demonstrate that things have changed.”
“Yes, I suppose.”
“If I’d let you remain in your old suite, the staff would never listen to you. The first time you told the cook what to serve for supper, she’d have run to Angela to find out if she should.”
“Heaven forbid. Angela creates awful menus.”
“The food here has been atrocious. Is it her fault?”
“Yes.”
“Then I expect—if nothing else—I’ll be fed a little better from now on.”
“I’ll try my best.”
“Of course you will. If I’d suspected any differently, I’d never have asked you to marry me.”
“You didn’t ask,” she reminded him.
“I did too. We were at the back door, and I’d ridden to the village and returned with your wedding gown. I definitely asked. I vividly remember it.”
His grin widened, and she nodded. “So you did. How could I forget?”
She smiled then too. She liked him like this, when he was jesting and teasing and so pleased with himself.
“You were very pretty today,” he said.
She blushed, her cheeks heating. “Thank you.”
“I’m glad you wore the gown I bought.”
“It’s not as if I had a lot of other choices.”
“You’re so stubborn—”
She interrupted, huffing, “I’m not stubborn.”
“You are! You’re so stubborn. I thought you might refuse just on general principles.”
“What principles would those be?”
“To show me that I couldn’t boss you.”
“I considered it, but you and I will have many chances to butt heads in the future. I didn’t imagine our first fight should be about whether or not I’d wear a beautiful dress.”
“Is it that easy to gain your compliance?” he asked.
“Not usually, but it seemed silly to fuss over it.” She didn’t mean to pester him, but the question was out and she couldn’t hold it in. “Where have you been? I’d about given up on you.”
“I was writing to my solicitors.”
“About what?”
“About my marriage. I changed my will and updated some of my fiscal records.”
Those sorts of issues hadn’t occurred to her, and he was such a hardened soldier. She didn’t view him as a man who’d have heightened business acumen, but then again he’d claimed to be rich, so he must have some skill with his finances.
“You changed your will?” she inquired.
“Or I am changing it. It will take a few weeks to get everything arranged, but you’ll be protected before I go back.”
“Go back where?” she stupidly said.
“To the army. I’m on furlough.”
She was trying to wrap her mind around the announcement, trying to figure out what it portended. She’d been struggling to envision what her life would be like with him. In those visions, he’d been at home and underfoot and driving her mad with his pretentious arrogance.
In none of those scenarios had she pictured him not being at home. She should have been delighted, but oddly, she was let down and a bit sad. He was trotting off to Europe? When would he leave? In a day or two? Was she that inconsequential?
“You’re going back to the army?”
“Yes.” He studied her, then chuckled. “You’re surprised. Didn’t you realize I’m still an officer? I’ve strutted about in my uniform enough times.”
“I guess I hadn’t really pondered what you’d do.”
“It’s one of the reasons I married you.”
“What is?”
“Because I knew you’d be a good steward while I was away.”
“I will be a good steward?”
“Yes. You’ll be grand, and you’ll keep Roland and Angela at bay for me.”
“At bay, how?”
“They’ll constantly work to ingratiate themselves, to hold on to what used to be theirs. You and I, we’ll be a team that can thwart them.”
“I don’t wish to thwart them. I simply wish they’d find a way to be content over what’s happened.”
“They’ll never be content, and they’ll harass you outrageously.”
“I’m sure they will.”
“But you won’t let them, because—the longer you’re in charge—the more you’ll recognize how nice it is to have them not be in charge.”
The notion sounded so disloyal. “Maybe.”
“They never treated you very well.”
“No, they didn’t,” she admitted.
“And now, with your elevated status, they can treat you with the respect you deserve or they can jump off a cliff.”
“If they’re rude, can I shove them off it?”
“Yes, or you can come to me, and I’ll do it for you.”
She chuckled and shook her head. “I shouldn’t speak badly about them. It makes me feel horrid, and I’m suffering from plenty of guilt already.”
“Don’t feel guilty. Everything will be fine.”
“Yes, I’m certain it will be.”
A tender wave of affection suddenly swirled. For once, his arrogance was carefully masked, and he gazed at her as if he liked her, as if he was glad he’d picked her. Could it be? He’d cl
aimed as much on several occasions, but she hadn’t believed him. Should she have?
They were starting a new life together, and a flicker of optimism ignited. Perhaps it would turn out to be splendid and all her worrying had been for naught.
He finished his whiskey, then took hers and downed the last dregs of it as well. He linked their fingers as if they were adolescent sweethearts.
“Let’s get this over with,” he said. “After it’s out of the way, you won’t be so frightened, and things won’t be so awkward between us.”
“I’m not frightened.”
“You’re not?” He scrutinized her and laughed. “Liar.”
“Maybe a little—about what I don’t know.”
“It’s the bride’s lot, the not knowing.”
“Do you…ah…know what has to occur?”
“Oh, yes.”
“Are you a libertine, Captain?”
“I have that reputation,” he baldly stated, “and since I’m about to remove some of my clothes—and yours too—could you call me Matthew?”
“I can try.”
He led her to her bedroom, and for the briefest second she couldn’t force her feet to budge. But he gave a light tug, and she stumbled after him. The alcohol had numbed her a bit, but not nearly enough. Her pulse was galloping again at full speed.
He stopped by the bed, and he placed his palms on her cheeks, bestowing a very sweet, very dear kiss.
“You look so afraid,” he murmured. “Please don’t be. It’ll be quick and painless. I promise.”
“Painless!” She gasped with dismay. “Will it hurt?”
“No, no,” he hastily said. “That was probably not the best choice of words.”
“Can you tell me what’s about to transpire?”
“Have you any idea? Has anyone explained it?”
“Well, Edwina heard some schoolroom gossip, but she’s only eighteen, so I didn’t necessarily believe her.”
“We’ll lie down, and we’ll kiss and touch each other until you’re not quite so nervous.”
She nodded. “I can do that.”
“Then we’ll gradually take off our clothes.”
“Must we?”
“We don’t have to, but it’s much more enjoyable—particularly for the man. It can be more of a chore for the woman.”
“But it’s not difficult to accomplish?”
“No. It’s simply physical conduct, and I’ll try to make it as pleasurable for you as I can.”
“Pleasurable? It can be? Really?” In all her frantic worrying, she hadn’t considered it might bring her pleasure.
“Yes. In fact, I’m betting that once you get the hang of it you’ll like it very much. You’ll constantly beg me to sneak up here with you.”
“You are so vain to think so.”
“Of course I’m vain, but I’m also proficient at this sort of behavior. I’m predicting you’ll turn out to be a slattern at heart.”
“A slattern!” She knew he was teasing her, and she laughed. “You’re such a flatterer.”
“There’s nothing wrong with a wife having a few loose tendencies. It keeps a husband happy.”
“Do you suppose I’ll keep you happy?”
“I’m planning on it—or I wouldn’t have picked you.”
That sense of affection was back, and he smiled at her again, as if he truly meant it. He thought she could make him happy. He thought they’d be happy together.
The prospect had her practically giddy with joy. Perhaps theirs could become a union where there was trust and esteem and blatant fondness. She decided to stop fretting and expecting the worst. From this point on, she would expect the best. If she worked very hard, maybe he would grow to love her. Why not hope for it?
He grabbed the belt on her robe and untied it, then pushed the garment off so it slid to the floor. She was still wearing her nightgown, but with the robe gone, she felt as if she’d shed her armor. She shivered and couldn’t hide it.
He nodded to the bed. “Lie down for me.”
It was the most horrid moment yet, the moment when the marriage finally seemed real. She hesitated, and he put a hand on her bottom and urged her toward the mattress.
“It’ll be all right, Clarissa. I swear it.”
“I know. I believe you.”
She laid down as he’d instructed, watching silently as he kicked off his boots and tossed them in the corner, as he tugged off his shirt and tossed that away too. The sight of his chest was actually very thrilling, and she was suffering from the strongest desire to stroke her palms across his skin to learn how soft and warm it would be.
His body was bronzed from the sun, his shoulders broad, his waist narrow, his arms sculpted with muscle. He looked hale and fit and…wonderful. There! She’d admitted it. He was dashing and remarkable, and he was her very own. He’d chosen her over every girl in the world, and she let a bit of her own vanity sweep in. She’d won him. She belonged to him, and he belonged to her.
He climbed onto the bed too, and he stretched out on top of her, and his grin was back so he appeared naughty and full of mischief.
“I’ve been waiting to do this all day,” he said.
“You have?”
“It’s the most anticipated portion of the groom’s wedding day.”
“Technically, it’s the wedding night.”
“Precisely. It’s the groom’s favorite part of the whole blasted thing.”
“What about the bride? What’s her favorite part?”
“Not the wedding night, I’m thinking.” He studied her. “You’re not upset, are you, that we had such a small ceremony?”
“No.”
“I could have invited the neighbors, but I wasn’t sure you’d approve.”
“You guessed my opinion exactly. I was fine with what you arranged.”
“If you change your mind later on and would like to repeat our vows with a hundred guests in attendance, we can.”
“I wouldn’t like that.”
“Anything you want, anything that’s in my power to bestow, you shall have it.”
“Thank you, but I haven’t ever wanted very much. Just a roof over my head and enough food to eat. With how erratic my childhood was, that’s plenty for me.”
“You will be easy to please, my dear little wife. Your list of needs is so limited that you won’t ever pester me for gifts and baubles.”
“Probably not.”
“So I’ll get to surprise you all the time—when you least expect it.”
It was such a sweet comment. Hers had been a life with few gifts or surprises, and he was chasing away her feelings of dread and onerous duty. Her role as his bride might be fun.
He started kissing her, and she eagerly joined in, deeming it the perfect chance to hide the swell of emotion he’d generated. His remarks had been so enchanting that she was afraid she’d burst into tears, which she’d hate to do. She’d seem like a sentimental ninny, and he already viewed her as being incredibly silly. There was no reason to confirm his vain, male attitude.
He’d kissed her previously, so it wasn’t odd or scary. She liked kissing him. She enjoyed it very much.
He rolled onto his back, rolling her with him so suddenly she was on top and he was beneath her. He broke off their kiss and drew her onto her haunches so she was straddling his lap, her thighs on either side of his. Her nightgown was bunched up, her private areas pressed to his, the fabric of his trousers the only barrier between them.
“Whatever happens in this room,” he said, “it’s all right.”
“I understand.”
“You never have to be embarrassed or shy.”
“I won’t be then.”
“Good.”
He took her hands and laid them on his chest, and she gasped with amazement.
“Your skin is so warm,” she said.
“You can touch me all over. I like it.”
“I can?”
“Yes. When you’re with me like this, you ca
n be as wanton and wild as you like.”
“I’ve never wanted to be wanton or wild.”
“We’ll see how you turn out. After I’ve taught you some tricks, I’m guessing you’ll shock us both.”
She hoped that was so. He’d admitted to being a libertine, which meant he was vastly experienced with women in a carnal manner. She was determined to learn what he showed her, to practice until she was skilled at it. Should he ever consider straying—husbands often did—it would never be because she hadn’t poured her heart and soul into their marital conduct.
She traced over his chest and arms, his shoulders and face. He was a mix of soft and rough, of smooth and coarse. He was ticklish too, and there were numerous spots that were very sensitive. She reveled in all of them.
He began kissing her again, his tongue in her mouth, his hands in her hair. Down below, their loins rocked together in a satisfying rhythm. Gradually he was lifting the hem of her nightgown, pulling it up and up until it was past her legs, at her waist.
He dipped under the fabric to her breasts, and the agitation produced was so riveting that she felt electrified, as if she could point with her fingers and sparks would fly off the tips.
He clasped her nipples, pinched and played with them, and the rocking of their hips increased.
This is desire! I desire my husband!
The notion delighted her. She’d been so afraid she wouldn’t, but she wasn’t scared anymore. Somewhere along the way, her fears had been vanquished. He had vanquished them, and she’d always adore him for that.
Almost without her realizing it, he had her nightgown up and over her head so she was naked. It occurred so rapidly and seemed so natural that she didn’t attempt to cover herself or cower away.
He bent down and latched on to a nipple, and he sucked at it very hard, making it ache, making her womb shift and stir. Between her legs, her womanly sheath was relaxed and wet.
He kept on, swinging from one breast to the other until the taut nubs were tender and raw. But she didn’t want him to desist and wouldn’t have suggested it in a thousand years.
He rolled over again, so she was on the bottom and he was on top. Stunning her, he slid his fingers down her belly where he found an unusual nub that was swollen and inflamed. He flicked his thumb across it once, twice, and the strangest wave of pleasure radiated through her.