by Rose Gordon
“I see.”
She frowned. “No, you don't. I didn't actually give him my virtue before marriage.
“And did you want to?”
“Not at first,” she admitted quietly. “At first, I was nervous but excited. He'd been so charming the entire time we'd been there. I thought he was genuinely interested in me. While his kisses had been a little less than desirable, he'd used humor and a touch of guilt to get me to allow him liberties I shouldn't have.” Her face burned as if it had just caught on fire. “It was—It was—I don't know how to describe it. It was very pleasant, perhaps so much that I didn't hear his parents and my mother approaching.” She gulped down her unease. “Then, when the door opened, it was too late. One of the women cried how wonderful it was that we were now officially betrothed.”
“It was a trap, wasn't it?”
“Yes,” she choked.
Henry's slight jerk at her admission was like a balm to the still smarting wound that had led to her marriage. “He was punishing you.”
“Pardon?”
“For your inadvertent role in trapping him; he decided to punish you by being unnecessarily rough.” Irritation, and perhaps anger, dripped from his voice.
“I don't think so. He'd been in on the trap. He wanted my father's land. Besides, I'm not sure that the problem wasn't with me. None of his lovers ever had complaints.”
Henry coughed. “You spoke to his former lovers?”
Laura smiled at his question and the disbelieving tone it had been spoken in. “Yes and no. I'm sure I spoke to many of his lovers without knowing they'd been intimate with him. But what I meant was, from time to time, I'd be in the presence of one of his paramours and she'd make a thinly veiled comment about his prowess in her bedchamber. I wondered if perhaps the problem was me.”
“No,” he barked, his voice hoarse, raw with emotion. “There is nothing wrong with you; his actions were deliberate.”
She'd wondered if that was possible from time to time, and even more so, in those quiet moments after Henry had separated their bodies. She couldn't make sense of why everything had been so different, when she'd expected it to be so much worse.
“Is that why you didn't wish for me to touch you down there?”
His question caught her unaware. “I—I don't know. I know I shouldn't compare you to him, for you've done nothing to make me believe you'd hurt me, even when the opportunity was there. But I guess that I feared if you touched me there and brought about the same satisfaction he had that night, perhaps you wouldn't have a reason to continue being gentle.” Her voice clogged with emotion. “Henry, I am so, so sorry,” she rushed to say. “I know it is wrong of me to—”
He cut her off with a warm kiss. “Don't apologize. We all have our own fears and worries. Yours are certainly not without warrant, nor are they your fault.” He turned on his side to face her and wrapped his large hand around hers then brought it to his lips. “May I ask what the reason is that you don't want me to see you without your clothes?”
She forced a thin smile. “How did you know?”
“You wanted all the candles out; your eyes strayed to the window more times than I can count—and don't deny it, I saw them—you once asked a question about how I feel in the presence of my twin's lovers; and as soon as we were finished, you tried to get under the covers, even though your skin was still warm. Do you need for me to list any other examples?”
She dropped her eyes to his chest. He had her there. She'd done all the things he'd mentioned. “I just don't like people seeing me naked.”
“And how many people have seen you naked?”
***
The tightness in his gut told him he wasn't going to like the answer to the question, but the crumbling of his heart knew she'd tell him the truth.
“I—I don't know,” she said with a stiff shrug.
“More than you wanted to,” he ventured, bringing her hand back to his lips. He'd had an idea of how much of a filthy bastard her former husband had been while staying at his house. The maids had stories—countless stories—of what sort of debauchery Robbie engaged in; he'd just never imagined he'd made his wife participate. “Did you—” He didn't know exactly what he wanted to say or how to word it, but Laura did.
“No,” she said brokenly. “He always said I was too plain and dull for his friends' tastes and didn't wish to embarrass himself by presenting them with a cold fish. Instead, he just allowed them to hide in the servant's stairs to watch.” A shiver and sob simultaneously wracked her body. “Foolish me, I had no idea anyone was even there until just a few weeks before he left. Had he not been drunk and grown angry with me for not producing a child yet, thus making it necessary for him to keep visiting my bed, I'd have never known I had an audience to see him shame me.” She pulled her knees up in front of herself.
“Is this where you learned the action you were contemplating earlier?”
“No,” she said on a sob. “One of the girls who frequently entertained the gentlemen guests at the boarding house where I worked after Robbie's death told me that. I've never—”
Henry could resist no longer and pulled her into his arms. “Shhh,” he crooned in her ear. “Forget him. He doesn't matter now. Neither does that wench's advice. I will take care of you now, Laura. I swear it; that is my vow to you. I will never purposely hurt you—I can't.” You're too valuable to me to even think of doing that.
“Y—you don't think less of me for...for...”
“No.”
“And what about working at the boarding house?”
His heart ached for her. He didn't know why she'd been reduced to working there, but he could give a close guess. “No. I don't think differently of you because you had to work for your keep. I find it very admirable.” And the perfect explanation of why she didn't have any other belongings with her, other than the handful of gowns she'd worn since arriving. “You need a wardrobe, don't you?” He hadn't meant that to sound unkind and hoped she wouldn't take it that way.
Fortunately for him, she was a sensible sort and whispered, “Yes. But I shan't ask for much.”
“You can have whatever you want.” He meant that promise, not just in regards to her wardrobe, but for everything; he just hoped she realized that.
~Chapter Twenty-Four~
A faint murmuring pulled Laura from her sleep. She blinked her eyes to get used to the small amount of sunlight coming in from the little window above the door, then looked down to where Henry lay and smiled. It would seem he was a bit of a chatterer in his sleep.
Still smiling at the oddity that was her husband, she lowered her head back to his chest and mindlessly ran her fingertips over its hard planes. Last night, she'd been so concerned he'd hurt her that she had only been fearful when she'd glimpsed his body, but now he didn't seem so imposing.
His chest was firm and broad, with a light patch of curling hair in the center that ran down his stomach and disappeared below the sheets that were pooled around his waist. Her portion of the sheet, however, was pulled comfortably up to her neck. While she doubted anyone other than her husband would be looking at her thus, there was still a measure of comfort in being covered. She ran her finger down the line of hair that bisected his torso, noting the way his muscles contracted at her touch. A small measure of pride built inside her. She had no idea she could have such a strong effect on him.
She bit her lip; should she move lower or stop? Her mind shouted to stop, but her curiosity and her blood pumping in excitement screamed to continue. She did. She moved her hand down to the patch of thick hair that surrounded his male parts and instantly Henry's barely audible speech came to an abrupt end. She stilled. This was almost as uncomfortable as last night.
“Pray, continue,” he said softly, combing his finger through her hair. He moved the sheet away.
“I was just...” She wet her lips, not sure how to explain.
“You don't have to explain anything. It's only natural to be curious about your spouse's body
.”
“Are you?” She hadn't meant for her voice to squeak, but it had.
“Of course.” He rolled onto his side to face her and brought his fingers up to the top of the crisp white sheet around her neck. He then lowered it just enough to expose her shoulder. “I'm very curious,” he murmured against her skin as he began kissing her again.
She rolled onto her back and held the sheet up for him to move underneath, slightly relieved that he didn't just rip it away from her but, instead, disappeared underneath. Perhaps relieved wasn't the right word; excited fit better, she amended in her mind, as her blood raced following his disappearance, only to have his mouth close around her left breast—then her right.
Her breath hitched. “Henry,” she choked; her skin flushing and her stomach contracting.
“Hmm.” His humming against her swollen breast made her body hum all the more. His strong hands were suddenly on her thighs, spreading them. He ran his large palms back up to her hips, holding her still as his mouth began its decent down her midsection and to her waist, where he kissed a line from the point of her left hip to the same spot on her right; the same pulling and contracting in her stomach that she'd felt last night increasing with each kiss.
He moved his hands just above her knees and lifted her legs slightly, leading her to bend her knees. He pressed his mouth to the inside of her thigh, searing her skin. “Henry.” His name was a mere whisper as he moved his mouth along her thigh.
Once he reached her knee, he turned and kissed his way back up the inside of her other thigh, her body heating with every kiss. He straightened and moved back up her body and propped himself up on one arm. His broad chest pressed against her chest, but not in a suffocating, smothering way; no, it was comfortable, natural.
He glided his hand down her side, and this time, it was her turn for the muscles below the skin he touched to contract and leap. He met her eyes; his filled with a silent question. She pushed away all of her reservations and fears and lowered her lashes.
He brushed a kiss across her lips and moved his free hand between her thighs. She spread her legs a little more to allow him better access—which he showed no reluctance in accepting. Although he'd touched her there last night with his counterpart, it felt different—almost more intimate—to allow him to explore her this way.
Moving slow and seeming to have no other care in the world, Henry's strong fingers moved all over her delicate places. With each touch and pass, she craved more and boldly moved herself more firmly against his hand. A slight smile bent his lips, but she didn't care; the feelings he was stirring in her just then were too demanding to set aside for the sake of pride.
As if sensing her urgency and excitement, Henry pushed two fingers inside of her, filling her. She jerked in response, her mind full of questions, none of which she could put voice to; not that she wanted to anyway. Covering her lips with his, he kissed her passionately, mirroring the movements he was currently doing below.
Her hands flew to his shoulders as her body twisted and bucked under him; with each thrust and kiss, her skin flushed more and inner tension mounted. Shamelessly, she moved to match his movements. He took his lips from hers and his face grew taut as he focused more on his thrusts, increasing both speed and intensity.
And then, as if he'd just hit some hidden spot at just the right angle and pressure, fire consumed her. Starting in the pit of her stomach and going out to every extremity, wave after wave of fire ran through her veins; her eyes closed and her mind went blank.
As her pleasure ebbed, so did Henry's thrusts until he came to a slow stop and withdrew. He shifted and positioned himself where he was supporting himself on both arms with his chest barely touching hers now. He reached up and swept his fingers through her hair.
She opened her eyes and met his: dark and intense, full of certainty and confidence; but most of all, they were full of sincerity—something she'd never glimpsed in the eyes of anyone she'd ever lived with, and most certainly not in the eyes of anyone who'd ever known her so intimately.
Laura reached up and ran her index finger along the edge of his jaw. “I do believe I'm in your debt again,” she said softly.
“Debt?”
Despite the embarrassment she felt, she nodded. “I've never— That never happened before.”
“No?” He lifted his brow. “I thought you said—”
“I said it was pleasant, I never said it was extraordinary,” she cut in to save a little of her pride. Henry didn't do it intentionally, but sometimes his frankness embarrassed her. “We were interrupted before that happened. Though, I doubt even if it had, that it would have been as enjoyable as it was now.”
Henry squeezed her. “I'm glad I could be your first, in that regard then.”
“Indeed you were.” She sent him a weak smile and laid down. Was it a point of pride for him to know that while he hadn't been able to have her true innocence that he was able to have her innocence in this form? She wasn't sure how she felt about that—
“And I'm glad you were my first, too,” Henry murmured near her ear as if he'd read her mind.
She cast him a doubtful look. “Please, don't lie to me. I know men aren't as protective of their virtue as ladies have to be. I certainly don't hold it against you that you've been with other ladies—” though she'd be crushed the day she learned he'd been with another since they'd married, but that was something she'd face when the day came, not now— “but please don't lie to me about it.”
“I didn't,” he said, his cheeks coloring a touch. “Believe it or not, some men are able to make all of their decisions with the head that resides above their waist.”
She stared at him, unsure what to say in response, her blood racing. “There are?” She immediately felt like a simpleton for her response.
“Yes,” he said, nodding. “They're very rare, but not only are they able to keep their tallywags in their trousers before they marry, they keep it in there afterwards, too.” He winked at her. “Unless, they're in the presence of their wives, that is. Then, they think up all sorts of reasons to take off their blasted trousers.”
Laura was frozen in place, staring at him. Though his words weren't very eloquent or anything she could ever repeat aloud, they were sincere. He'd not only exposed a part of himself to her that made her feel special knowing she was the only one he'd ever been intimate with, not one of many, but he'd also just promised her fidelity; and that was a promise she had no reason to doubt. Tears of joy welled in her eyes. “As I said, earlier I find myself in your debt.” A shadow crossed his face and he opened his mouth to say something, but she pressed her fingers to his lips to stop him, then replaced her finger with her lips and murmured, “But it is a debt I look forward to repaying.”
~Chapter Twenty-Five~
“It feels good to wear a pair of trousers again,” Henry stated, as soon as the carriage door closed.
“Oh, don't be such a killjoy. I know you enjoyed the kilt,” Laura teased. “I know I did.”
Henry's eyes shot to hers. “Really?”
A light blush stained her cheeks. “Perhaps a little.”
Henry arched a brow at her. “Oh?”
“You have very handsome legs,” she said, fiddling with the lace on her sleeve.
“Indeed? I had no idea you were admiring them.”
She sighed. “Well, when they're on display like that, it's hard not to take notice. Besides, they're so bright it's hard not to be tempted to stare.”
Shaking his head, Henry reached for her hand. “There's no shame in wanting to see your husband without his clothes on. In fact—” he let out an exaggerated yawn— “that can be arranged shortly. I'm sure the horses are getting tired. It wouldn't do to not let them rest.”
Laura swatted playfully at his arm. “You rascal, I know what you're about.”
Henry mentally calculated how much money he had with him and how many nights at an inn he could afford before arriving back at Watson Estate. Not that he was short on fu
nds; no not at all, quite the opposite. He just wanted to make sure the horses were well rested, and if that meant traveling only four hours a day before stopping for the night, well then, that's just what they'd have to do... “It would be a real shame to let the horses get tired, Laura; don't forget about them.”
“I haven't,” she said with a laugh. “But if you think for one minute that I'll believe there are no horses to rent at any of the inns we stop at, you're addled.”
“You never know.” He grinned and pulled her onto his lap. “How about a compromise?”
“Every other inn we encounter?”
“That wasn't what I was going to suggest, but I'll accept.”
She shook her head and buried her face against his chest. He loved the way she felt when she leaned against him that way. Henry tightened his arms around her. He might never know the extent of what had happened to her in the past or what it might mean for their future; but one thing was for certain: no matter what obstacles life might have for them both, there was nobody he'd rather overcome them with than her. She was far stronger than he'd first imagined. Of course, when they'd first met, he'd thought she was a beauty and had an interest in her he'd rather not have had, but he'd also thought she was a self-important, harpy. And perhaps she'd appeared that way as a measure of her inner strength; the strength that made her erect walls and seem icy. He hoped beyond all hope that one day he'd be able to fully knock down those walls and melt away the last icicle. For as much as he'd scoffed about his brothers “falling in love”, he was now realizing love wasn't such a bad thing if fallen into with the right lady. And as strange as she was at times, Laura was the right lady.
***
“How many more days do you think it'll be until we're back to your home?” Laura asked as the carriage pulled out of the yard of the inn.