by Rose Gordon
A hot drop of moisture hit his knee, followed swiftly by another. All ardor and excitement previously coursing through him seemed to vanish in that moment and he tipped her head up to face him.
Her red, glistening eyes were a perfect match to her scarlet cheeks and her lips trembled right in time with the rest of her body.
At first, he'd thought he'd embarrassed her with his inappropriate outburst; but now that he could fully see her, he knew instantly that wasn't what it was. There was something wrong; and for as inappropriate and forward as his remark had been, he was glad he'd made it before she'd done something she'd have regretted or, worse, would make her hold him in disdain.
He encircled both of her wrists with his fingers and eased her to her former kneeling position in order for her to rest her tearstained face against his chest. He closed his eyes and tried to think of what to say and how to ask what he wanted to know, but no words would come as her body trembled against his. Henry tightened his hold on her. He'd heard of women—prostitutes and courtesans—who'd used their mouths to pleasure men but had never imagined... And for good reason, he'd never imagined it; she didn't seem too excited about doing it if her tears were any indication.
Henry lifted his hand up to her face and ran his knuckles against her damp cheek. “Do you miss him?” It wasn't his place to ask that, and he hadn't intended to; but for a reason he couldn't name, he needed to know.
“No.”
He released the breath he didn't even know he'd been holding and his body relaxed. Then tensed. He didn't doubt the sincerity in her simple, quiet answer, which only meant one other thing. “Were certain aspects of marriage to him not enjoyable for you?” he ventured.
“Yes.”
He closed his eyes and let out a deep breath. How could he possibly make this right? He certainly had no intention of giving up on initiating intimacies with her so soon; but neither did he want her to fear him, because undeniably something terrible had happened previously.
“Would you like to tell me what happened?” he asked around the lump in his throat.
Warm tears pooled on his shirt, dampening his skin underneath. “No.”
Of course not. He sighed. How ironic he'd teased his brother about having difficulties in this aspect of his marriage only weeks before. But that was different. Amelia's reservations weren't nearly the same as Laura's; and unlike his brother, he had no intention of letting those reservations build into something larger and more crippling than they already were.
She'd responded very well to his kisses before. It might not lead where he'd hoped the night would, but it never hurt to try. Besides, as his father had told him so many times, a man's word meant nothing if his actions didn't prove it. This was certainly one of those situations. Laura seemed reluctant to speak about her former experience, which was probably for the best since he had no idea what to say to ease her mind. Instead, perhaps the best way to approach this was to move slow and pray that by some miracle he didn't bungle this up.
Pushing such a daunting task out of his mind, he placed the fingers of his left hand under her chin and dipped his head to take her lips in a gentle kiss.
~Chapter Twenty-Two~
Laura froze. This night was swiftly turning into a disaster. She never should have attempted that. Not that she ever had before, she only knew the results: a quicker encounter. Unfortunately, when it came time, she just couldn't and ended up making a total fool of herself for staring at his pole and then being caught crying.
And now he was kissing her again.
She pulled back. “Henry,” she said, unable to meet his eyes.
“Yes?”
“I—I—I'm ready.”
“Ready?”
“Yes, I'm ready for you to continue. You don't need to do this.” It was the least she owed him for her earlier display.
“Do what? Kiss my wife?” He lowered his head and tilted her face to force her to see his face, which only mortified her more. How could she ever look at him again? “I think I do need to kiss my wife. It's something I've been looking forward to since before we climbed into the carriage in Bath. Was I incorrect in my assumption that you enjoyed kissing me that night?”
“No,” she said before she could think better of it.
“Then I shall continue,” he murmured, bringing his lips back to hers. Soft and gentle, his kiss excited something inside of her. He parted his lips and ran his tongue across the seam of her mouth.
She gasped, allowing him the perfect entrance. Though he'd kissed her this way only a few short days ago, it was just as exciting as the first time, as he took his time to explore her mouth with his tongue; his hands now up framing her face.
He withdrew his tongue and slowly ended their kiss, rolling her down to the bed and onto her back. His blue eyes were the color of the Atlantic. She wanted so much to look at them longer, to study them and get lost in their depths; but she didn't dare and moved her eyes away just as quickly as she'd seen his. She knew she wouldn't see any hint of mockery in them but didn't know what she might find instead; pity, perhaps. The thought made her stomach lurch.
“Henry, please.”
“Please what?” he murmured, climbing onto the bed and positioning one of his strong legs on either side of her. He supported his upper body on his left forearm and reached his right hand up toward her hair, where he began removing her hairpins. “Do you not want me to take down your hair?”
“No, it's not that.” Though why he was removing the pins from her hair was a mystery to her. Robbie had never shown any interest in seeing it down, unless Henry was just trying to draw this out. “Please, just be about your business.”
He chuckled and removed another pin. “You seem rather impatient.” He shifted to support his weight on his right forearm now, a courtesy she'd never experienced before but was thankful for, considering his size. Henry reached up with his left hand and began removing the pins from the other side of her hair. “We have all night.”
And for that, she was truly regretting not drinking more wine.
“Stop thinking about him,” Henry whispered; then kissed the shell of her ear; then behind it; then the far edge of her jaw.
Laura closed her eyes to keep in the tears. “It's hard not to. He...he...”
“Was a brute,” Henry finished for her, kissing her neck.
Laura nodded. “That's an accurate description.”
“And undeserving,” Henry continued between kisses. “Have I done something of the kind?”
“No,” she gasped, thinking of how gentle and delicious his kisses had been—not sloppy and suffocating; as was his touch: gentle and undemanding. He might come off a bit brash in his speech from time to time, but he'd always been gentle with her. She couldn't deny that. “You've been very gentle with me,” she admitted.
“Then put him from your mind and think only of me,” he murmured, moving his mouth down to her collarbone, where he continued to kiss her with his soft lips. Henry came up on his knees and reached for the buttons that went down the front of her gown. She'd undone a few while he'd left her alone, but it would seem he wanted to see more of her. “Trust me. I have no intention of hurting you. Ever.”
She squeezed her eyes shut. So desperately, she wanted to believe him; but the war between her heart, that wanted to crumble and believe him, versus her mind, full of mortifying and painful memories, refused to allow her to give in so easily.
Henry unbuttoned her bodice all the way to her waist, then spread the fabric open. “Beautiful,” he said; his voice rough and barely recognizable.
Laura instinctively fisted her hands into the blankets. He was her husband; he had every right to look at her thus.
“Look at me.” His command, though not sharp or forceful, wasn't said in a tone she was certain she wanted to disobey and she uneasily opened her eyes.
“I'm sorry.”
He pressed his lips together. “Don't be sorry. You have no reason to be. I just want you to see me, the man wh
o is here with you, touching you; not the one who hurt you in the past.” He bent forward until his forehead was resting against hers and brought both hands to the sides of her face. “If I do something you don't like, for pity's sake, Laura, tell me.” Keeping his forehead against hers and his gaze holding hers, he slid his hands down to her shoulders.
Laura moistened her lips. “The candles.”
He pressed a kiss to her lips and continued to let his large hands travel down to the top of her chest. “What about the candles?”
“Snuff them,” she choked.
Henry's hands stilled and he gave her another kiss. “I'll snuff all but one. Is that fair?”
“One?”
He dropped another kiss on her lips. “I want you to still be able to see who is in the room with you.” He kissed her once more, then stood and snuffed all but one candle, creating a very low glow in the room. He padded back toward the bed and began removing his clothing. “Skirts are not for men,” he mumbled by way of explanation.
Despite the tension in the room, a small burble of laughter passed her lips. “But you looked so fetching in it.”
“Not half as fetching as you.” He finished undressing and climbed back into the bed. “This doesn't mean I intend to force you,” he whispered in her ear.
Laura's heart slammed against her chest. “I never thought you would. I didn't mean to imply such.”
“You didn't. I just wanted to make sure you knew.” He moved next to her and propped his head up on his right palm, digging his elbow into the pillow. He lifted his hand to her chest and trailed his fingertips down the valley between her breasts then to her naval. Then he came back up. “Is this all right?”
“Yes,” she whispered, her skin tingling beneath his searing touch.
His fingers made it all the way up to the bottom of her throat and he lowered his whole hand to her skin. She shivered and a thick tension built between them as he moved his hand back down her chest, grazing the subtle slope of both breasts. He stopped just beneath her naval and moved his hand toward her right side then began his slow journey up, this time skimming her ribs as he went and running his hand over a larger portion of her breast, just barely missing her nipple. Holding his palm there, he used his fingers and thumb to gently caress the softness of her breast.
Her breath hitched and her body responded to him immediately. “Henry,” she breathed.
“Hmmm?” His voice fell over her like a satin caress; then he slid his hand across her chest to gently shape her other breast. “Was that a good Henry or do you want me to stop?”
Unable to speak or even think past what he was doing, she bit her lip and shook her head once. “No,” she choked.
And he didn't. With a gentle slowness she'd never imagined, he shaped both of her breasts; his lips moved back to her neck, where he kissed a hot path down to her chest.
Her skin flushed. Would he kiss her there? Indeed, he did; and the second his warm lips closed around the crest of her breast, every particle of oxygen in her lungs was expelled in a quick whoosh.
He drew the hardened peak of her breast into his mouth, sending a wave of heat crashing over her body as an unusual tension began pooling in her stomach. He trailed a path of openmouthed kisses to her other breast and repeated his earlier ministrations on it. Abandoning all logic, reason, and manners, Laura arched her back, offering him more of her breast, which he greedily took; his mouth covering one and now his hand shaping the other.
Tentatively, she reached for his head, sinking her fingers into his silky blond hair. She'd never given his hair much thought before, but now that she was touching—or tightly gripping—it, she was glad it was so thick.
Without taking his mouth from her flushed skin, Henry reached both hands to the top of her gown and took hold of the fabric at her shoulders, then began lowering it. Were the candles still lit, Laura might have stiffened in response; but there was no way that anyone could see her with the room so dark, not to mention Henry's body was now covering her like a blanket.
She arched her back and allowed him to lower her gown to her waist. He stilled his hands and pulled his lips away from her breast, only to drop kisses down toward her naval, where he dipped his tongue inside. Laura jerked in response, leading him to do it again before moving lower and taking her gown with him. He rolled back to his side and slid her gown the rest of the way down her body, leaving her clad in nothing but the warm night's air and his steely gaze.
His warm hand found her calf and then moved up to her knee and to her thigh. Excitement warred with a sudden dose of anxiety as he ran his fingertips through the small patch of hair between her thighs. As if noticing her body's reaction, Henry moved his hand away to mindlessly roam her body.
“Does the thought of me touching you worry you?” His broken voice sent a chill over her.
“N—no.”
He pressed his lips to her shoulder. “Don't lie to me,” he murmured, dragging his lips across her shoulder, then down to her sternum, then back to her swollen breast. “Do you remember who's in the bed with you?”
“Yes, Henry,” she said on a gasp, not sure if she was answering his question or offering him encouragement to continue what he was doing with that wicked mouth of his that made her body flush and tension coil in her stomach.
Which he did, not leaving a fraction of an inch of skin above her waist untouched by his lips.
He moved on top of her, positioning his wide body between her parted legs. He propped himself up on his left arm and brushed the fingertips of his right hand across her cheeks. “Laura,” he began, his voice rough, “if you want me to stop now, I will—”
“No,” she said with a swallow. She reached up and brushed back the hair that had fallen in his face. It was very sweet of him to offer, but he didn't deserve that. He'd treated her very well, paying attention to what she'd liked and treating her body with the highest level of respect. There was no reason to deny him. “I'm ready now.”
“Are you certain?”
The concern lacing his voice made her wish all the more that she hadn't had such a bad experience before, thus ruining their first time in such a way. “Yes, quite.”
Capturing her lips with his, he shifted and moved his erection into position at her opening. Without thinking, she grasped onto his shoulders. It had been a long time, but she remembered this part quite well and the pain that ensued. Though memory might fail her at times, it hadn't escaped her notice that Henry was larger than her previous husband in every way; and if she didn't cling tight to him, she might react in an unpleasant manner.
But how strange, there wasn't any pain—only pressure. A pressure that seemed to mount the more he pushed inside.
“Am I hurting you?” he whispered.
“No,” she whispered back, giving his shoulders an affectionate squeeze and still trying to understand why he wasn't hurting her.
She wasn't given long to ponder, however, when Henry began moving again. The friction of him moving back and forth stirred those same sensations in her stomach that his earlier kisses had, except this time they were stronger and grew twice as strong when the end of him pushed against something unnameable inside of her. She clutched his shoulders tighter and bit her lip as his steady movements built a tension and tightening in her abdomen she couldn't comprehend.
Just then, Henry locked eyes with her and a savage grunt rent the air as his body stiffened on top of hers.
Breathing heavily, he pressed a quick kiss to her lips and then separated their bodies, leaving Laura with an odd sense of loss she'd never experienced or expected.
~Chapter Twenty-Three~
“Are you cold?”
Laura froze. “Just a little.”
Henry reached for her.
Reluctantly, she released her hold on the coverlet and allowed him to roll her against him. He was still as naked as she. “Do you not wish to get under the blankets, too?” she hedged.
“No.” He wrapped his arms around her and broug
ht her head down to his chest, then leaned down and dropped a kiss on the crown of her head. “I'm perfectly warm—and have enough to keep you warm, too, I'd wager.”
As strange as it would have been to imagine this a few days ago, or even just an hour ago, lying here wrapped in Henry's arms felt safe.
“Thank you,” she whispered against his chest, doubting he'd even heard her.
He gave her a light squeeze. “For what?”
“For being gentle,” she said, ignoring the way her cheeks burned. “You didn't have to, but I appreciate it.”
Henry took a deep inhale, causing his chest to rise higher than it had been with each breath before. “Is it safe to assume that was your only painless experience?”
She bit her lip. She couldn't lie to him. Not now, and not about this. “No,” she admitted. “There was once when it didn't hurt, but it wasn't the same.”
“How so?”
Laura closed her eyes. What would he say when she told him? Would he think less of her or would he even care? She'd been married before, so it wasn't as if he'd expected her to come to bed tonight chaste anyway. “Once, before I married Robbie, I...er...” Heat flooded her and she fixed her eyes on what she could see of the small patch of hair in the center of Henry's chest.
“It's all right. You don't have to tell me, if you don't wish.”
“No,” she argued. “You have a right to know the sins of your wife.” Where that had come from, she'd never know. She idly twirled her finger in the coarse hair on his chest. “My father had wanted me to marry well; that's why he took me to New York. He had a friend who'd told him there were some very wealthy bankers and businessmen there who had sons in want of a wife. When we arrived at my father's friend's house, his son did everything he could to capture my attention—which he did. I was completely captivated by him.” She twisted her lips and idly combed down the hair she'd just twisted.
“My father was a bit skeptical and thought I needed to meet some of the other gentlemen. For the first time, Lucinda tried to help me convince him that such a thing wasn't necessary; that I could marry Robbie. But it mattered naught, when Robbie came up to my room one night after everyone had gone to bed.”