by Dayna Quince
“I can’t do…I’m not ready to…” She brought her hands to her face.
Oh, thank God. He was probably the only man in the world who wished to postpone his wedding night. But what were her reasons?
“It’s perfectly fine,” he assured her. He stood and didn’t have any idea what to do next. Should he leave? No. He should comfort her. She looked more than a bit upset. He moved closer to the bed and reached out to take her hand. She was so red that he was almost concerned she had a fever.
“Are you ill?”
She shook her head. “No, I’m simply dying of mortification.”
He laughed again. “I had no idea you were so dramatic.”
She glared at him. He was glad to see some fire in her eyes. “Surely you see the humor in the situation.”
“I cannot. First today and now tonight. I’ve ruined everything.”
He sighed and sat on the edge of the bed. “It’s not that bad.”
“The whole of society bore witness to my fainting in the church, and now I feel as though we are still on display.”
“It does feel that way. Coming to your room, I thought I might hear applause.”
Her eyes went as wide as saucers. “Guests saw you?”
“No! I was jesting. I’m sorry.” He squeezed her hand. She was not enjoying his humor one bit.
“Garrett. I can’t have my wedding night in my parent’s home. I simply can’t stop thinking about everyone knowing. I won’t be able to face them tomorrow.”
He liked the way she said his name. So casually, as if she’d said it for years. He enveloped her hand in his. “It’s fine. I’d prefer to wait for that very same reason. We can begin our marriage the proper way. In our marriage bed.
She turned to him. “But what do we do tonight? Regardless, everyone will be thinking—”
“No one will truly be that interested in our nightly activities. They certainly won’t say so if they are.”
Hazel thought of Mrs. Danford. The women seemed to have a distinct interest and the bollocks to ask, albeit privately. “I want to run away,” she said abruptly.
Garrett was taken aback. “From… me?”
“No!” She covered his hands with hers and came up on her knees. “From here. I want to be away from all these people.”
“Most of them are your family,” he reminded her.
“That isn’t an argument in their favor. Anabelle will ask questions, Draven will poke fun, and my mother will stare at me in that motherly way that drives me mad.” She didn’t mention Mrs. Danford. She wasn’t sure how he would take that opinion.
“We can’t leave tonight, Hazel. The roads are not safe. I don’t want the first night of our marriage spent in an Inn.”
Hazel slumped back against the pillows.
He chuckled. “We can leave at first light and reach Bainbridge Hall by evening. It’s what my aunt prefers, anyhow.”
Hazel inwardly shuddered. “Are we to ride in the same carriage?” All day? She wanted to emphasize, but it seemed childish.
“I may ride for some time. You’re welcome to join me.”
Hazel considered this. She’d rather ride than spend hours on end sequestered with Mrs. Danford—she’d rather pull her hair out one at a time than spend hours with Mrs. Danford.
“You look displeased. Would you like to stay here longer? Spend more time saying goodbye to your family?”
Did she? It wasn’t about saying goodbye to her family. It was about… being alone with him. They were married now. Why couldn’t they just be alone? This whole situation felt tainted by Mrs. Danford’s words. Hazel would never forgive her for it. She folded her arms over her chest in defeat.
Garrett was getting frustrated. Hazel was unhappy—that was obvious, but what was he supposed to do? How could he salvage this? If they could safely leave and reach Bainbridge Hall overnight, he would agree to it, but there were risks. The roads were preyed upon by highwaymen at night. That is why his aunt always insisted on only traveling by day.
Christ. He wasn’t good at this. He didn’t have this sort of experience with women. He needed perspective. He needed a man’s opinion, someone who charmed women with the ease of breathing. But where would he find Draven at this hour? Most likely in the arms of his wife enjoying marital bliss. As he should be.
But she was upset, and it was unfathomable to him that she be upset on their wedding night. They may not be consummating their marriage, but he’d be damned if he let her be unhappy.
“Summon your maid.”
She looked up at him and blinked. He stood and put his hands on his hips. “If you want to leave, then we shall leave. How soon can you be ready?”
“Mary has already done most of the packing.”
“Good, so has my valet. I will return to my chamber to change and have Smith summon my carriage. I suggest you do the same. I can’t promise you will be comfortable spending the night in a carriage.”
“I’ll manage.”
She sat up. He might even say she was excited.
“I’ll pen a note for my sister.” She slipped from the bed and yanked on the bell pull.
He watched her, amused by her sudden energy. Her nightgown was not the stuff of fantasy. It looked more suitable for a grandmother.
She turned to look at him, a smile touching her lips. He smiled back. Their first foray into marriage would start with a midnight escape.
“Don’t bring that nightgown,” he blurted.
“I beg your pardon?” Her cheeks pinked again.
“My wife…” He slowly strolled forward until he stood in front of her. He reached out a gently tugged on the wealth of fabric abundant enough to make a tent. “My wife has no need for such a grandmotherly garment. That is if I let you wear anything to bed at all.”
Her eyes widened and sparkled. Her tongue flicked out to lick her lips. This is how she was meant to look on their wedding night. Not upset and frightened, but wondrous, excited. He could see the look inquisitive desire forming in her eyes. He bent close, pausing just before his lips touched hers.
“By morning, we will find ourselves at Bainbridge…alone, and in our bed.”
She nodded.
He sealed the promise with a kiss. Lightly brushing his lips against hers at first, and then claiming them fully. He pulled away and slipped out the door without another word. It was only their second kiss, and he swore to himself it wouldn’t be the last tonight. He would not take his wife in a carriage, but he would enjoy her resting against him and taste her lips as much as he wanted.
Chapter 4
Hazel woke as rays of light permeated the gritty seal of her lids. She blinked her eyes open, her vision blurry with sleep. Her cheek rested against the soft velvet of Garrett’s jacket. She was tempted to smile. She looked up, and he had his head tossed back against the squabs, his mouth open a little. His chest lifted and fell with slumberous breaths. She did smile. Her body ached, her hip felt numb, but they were alone and far away from the prying eyes of family.
She slipped out from under his arm and stretched. The tingly numbness stretched all the way down to her toes. She winced as she angled her head side to side to stretch her neck. The carriage was taking a narrow turn. She was caught off guard and flung her arms out to catch her balance. One hand landed on his thigh. She quickly snatched it away as his eyes popped open.
She watched as he blinked and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. He looked adorable, not stoically handsome as he usually looked, but more inviting, more real.
“Where are we?”
She shrugged. “I have no idea.” She was smiling. She couldn’t help it.
He looked out the window. “Were home.”
As he said the words, the carriage turned in a half circle and came to a halt.
Hazel did her best to smooth her hair before the door was opened.
“Good morning, Cobb. Thank you for accommodating our sudden departure. Please take the rest of today and tomorrow off to rest.”
“Thank you,
sir.” The driver bowed.
Hazel smiled her thanks as Garrett helped her down. The door opened and a butler appeared. Garrett pulled her up the portico steps.
“Hazel, may I present Quinn. Quinn, I am honored to introduce our new lady of the hall.
“We have joyously awaited your arrival, ma’am.”
“Thank you, Quinn.”
“Breakfast is not yet ready, but I can have tea momentarily.”
“That would be lovely,” Hazel answered.
“We will take breakfast in the master suite, Quinn, and perform introductions later today.”
“Yes, sir.”
Garrett escorted Hazel inside. They climbed the stairs to the master suite, and he held the door while she entered. She liked the way he referred to them as ‘we.’ She entered the room and looked around in awe. It was luxuriously outfitted in silks and velvets of cream and brown.
“If you want a bath, it will take time to heat the water.”
Hazel would have loved a bath, but her stomach demanded food first. “I think I shall eat first.”
She did a circle around the room, examining the table for private dining near terrace doors, a bookcase filled with books, a writing desk, the large fireplace and back around to the door. She completed her circle at the bed. The largest bed she’d ever seen. Cream velvet draped each post. Pillows stacked against each other almost to the middle. She raised an eyebrow. She was aware he had watched her entire inspection.
“The pillows are a nuisance. I always tell Smith to be rid of all but two, but they always find their way back. Would you like to see the Countesses suite?
“Oh…I had thought.”
“We will share a bed every night,” he said as he took her hand, “but you do have your own room if you choose to use it.” He opened a door that was disguised as a wall panel.
This room was entirely feminine, the furniture delicate in its carving and size. The primary color was deep purple, which Hazel liked, but not in such abundance. She would have thought the room had not been in use for years, but the writing desk and vanity looked as if someone frequently used both though they were impeccably neat.
“You may redecorate it as you wish. My aunt wanted it redone after my mother’s passing, but I wouldn’t have it. I spent many hours here reading with my mother or watching her maid as she did her hair.”
“Those are sweet memories,” Hazel murmured. She looked around, gently stroking the silk hangings on the bed post. “I should like to keep the furniture, but choose lighter drapery’s and bed hangings. If that is all right.” She turned to him. She didn’t want to take away from his mother’s memory.
“Of course. This room is yours now. She would want you to make it your own,” he assured.
Hazel nodded. There was a knock from the other room. They returned to the master suite and two footmen wheeled in a trolley of dishes and set the table.
“I eat in here often. I usually work late and eat late.”
Hazel took her seat at the table. A plate of eggs, bacon, toast, and fruit was set before her.
“This looks wonderful.”
Quinn poured her a cup of tea. “Will that be all, ma’am.”
“Her Lady wishes for a bath. Please warm the water while we dine.”
“Yes, sir.”
Hazel took a bite of her eggs as the staff departed.
Garrett hesitated. “I promise to give you all the privacy you need.”
Hazel smiled. “Thank you.” Though she hoped one day, they would have the intimacy of not needing such privacy from each other. Perhaps one day they would share the bath together.
“Is it a large tub?” she asked curiously.
He frowned in thought as he chewed and swallowed a bite of bacon. “It does the job, I suppose.”
“Would it fit…two people?” She couldn’t believe the words that left her tongue.
His hand paused as it was bringing his teacup to his mouth. He cleared his throat. “Two people? I’ve never wondered,” he said casually. However, his mind was rapidly busy creating fantasies of Hazel naked and soapy in the bath and inviting him in. The tub would not fit two comfortably, it barely fit him comfortably. But he was willing to try. Hell, he’d buy a bigger tub right this moment if she wished it.
“A woman of your stature will have no trouble taking a leisurely soak.”
“Oh. Good.”
He watched her take a sip of tea and another bite of her toast. They were quiet as they finished their breakfast. Footmen arrived with the tub, lit a fire for more warmth, and filled it with buckets of steaming water before leaving again. Garrett removed the plates to the trolley and pushed it outside the room. Hazel was still in her chair when he returned and looking out the terrace doors. The curtains were pulled back to let in the morning sun. He liked rooms filled with light. She looked lovely in the white hazy morning sunlit room. The sky was thick with clouds, the sun glowing behind them. The effect was a soft layering of sun rays over everything. It made her skin look impossibly soft and inviting. Her hair shined with golds and butter. He removed his jacket and tossed it on the floor.
It startled her. She turned to look at him, and then looked at the jacket on the floor. Her cheeks bloomed with pink.
His hands moved to his waistcoat and quickly undid the button. He’d forgone with a cravat for their midnight escape. The waistcoat joined the coat on the floor. Then he started with his cuffs.
Hazel stood. She swallowed the nervous lump in her throat. Her dress felt exceedingly tight. She wasn’t sure of her part so she began with her hair. He was looking down at his cuffs when she started to pull pins from her hair but looked up as it started to fall around her shoulders.
“Wait.” He froze.
Hazel stopped. Her hands still caught in her hair.
“I want to do it.”
She licked her dry lips. He finished rolling up his shirt sleeves and moved closer to her. Hazel let her arms fall to her sides. His fingers slid into her hair. She was afraid to meet his eyes, so she focused on his mouth. He removed the last of her pins and finger combed her hair, draping it over her shoulders.
“You don’t have a maid to tend your bath.”
Hazel nodded. Her mouth had gone dry.
“It would be my honor.”
He looked down at her. She could feel his eyes on her. She tentatively looked up at him.
“The water will be hot enough. I promise you won’t be cold. May I?”
She nodded again. She wasn’t sure what she agreed to. Her brain had ceased to function, her heart fluttered inside her like a hummingbird. His eyes beheld her with such clear intent it awed her. This man was her husband, and he fully intended to undress her, bathe her, and make love to her. She was certain she wanted those things, but it didn’t make the fear of the unknown any less. She was standing on a metaphorical cliff—the ledge her last virtues of innocence, the drop an abyss of her unknowable future.
He bent closer to her. They had kissed in the carriage. Sweet kisses, clinging kisses, until sleep had claimed them. She welcomed more kisses. They were familiar now. She closed her eyes as his lips touched hers. She was blocking out all else except the feel and scent of him. His lips tasted of bacon. Delicious.
She brought her hands around his neck as he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. This was also a new adventure, being physically close. She liked it. His body was hard against hers, angled where she was rounded. His hands massaged her back, pulling at the buttons of her dress until they slipped their moors and he could slide his hands inside. Her dress became loose. He pulled the halves down over her shoulders.
She kissed him back fervently, liking the fissures of excitement his touch brought and the satisfying way her breasts pushed against his chest. She lowered her arms so her dress would fall to her waist and pulled her arms free. She was scared. She’d never bared herself to anyone before. There was also excitement humming in her veins. She tried to remember what Anabelle had said, but he
r thoughts were scattered. She felt the insistence of his mouth, his tongue making little licks as he angled his head. She opened her mouth, listening to her body, her perception of his growing. His tongue was not invading her mouth like a conquering king. Lucy had shared that secret with her their first season. Kisses involving tongues sounded unpleasant.
But this was far from unpleasant. It was a slow and intimate joining. His tongue reverently sought hers, slowly, softly, touching with gentle strokes. She couldn’t help but respond. His tongue was warm and velvety against hers. She answered each glide of his with her own, learning and discovering as she went. She brought her arms up around his neck again, pressing her mouth and chest to his.
Her body felt different. Her skin was sensitive to everything. It sparked emotions inside her of wanting, heated yearning. Was this desire? Lust?
He pushed her dress over her hips to the floor. She stepped out of it. They broke the kiss, and she couldn’t look away from him as he led her to the bath.
Hazel imagined them both sitting in the tub, presumably naked. A hot flush swept her.
“I can tell when you’re thinking naughty things.”
“What?” She turned to him in dismay.
“You always blush and your breathing becomes shallow and fast. Your eyes light up with excitement.”
Hazel stared at him. He could read her like a book.
“Don’t be embarrassed. I find it beautiful and encouraging.”
“Encouraging?”
“We are married now, Hazel. Our bodies belong to each other. Your arousal and passion fuel mine. There is nothing to be ashamed of now. You don’t have to hide your sensuality from me.”
She didn’t know what to say. She was only just discovering these feelings for herself. An errant thought entered her mind. Mrs. Danford’s words from the night before. She looked at Garrett.
Her husband.
She pushed that awful memory away. She wasn’t going to let anything come between them right now.
She pulled at the string cinching the neck of her chemise. Loosening the neck, she grabbed the hem and pulled it over her head. She looked up and caught his eyes as she let the fabric slip from her fingers to the floor. In his eyes, she could see some heady emotion. They dropped down, exploring over her body. Hazel had to look away. It was overwhelming to be the object of someone’s desire. She had no doubt he wanted her.