An Ideal Husband?

by Michelle Styles

  ‘As long as that?’

  ‘He plans to visit his mother’s grave. My stepmother has undertaken to be his guide as he is now family.’ Sophie tapped her finger to her chin. She should have remembered what Lady Parthenope had said on the first night about visiting her mother’s grave. It provided the perfect explanation as to why Lord Hallington was uncomfortable in Newcastle. ‘That must be the reason he never visits here. The memory is far too painful for him.’

  ‘I am thankful that he had enough sense to realise that he would not be a welcome addition to our rooms.’ Richard wrapped his arms about her and pulled her close. ‘I am postponing the wedding trip on his account. I’m not postponing anything else.’

  ‘You shall have to take me to your grandmother’s grave so I can pay my respects.’

  He loosened his arms and a surprised expression crossed his face. ‘I will find out from my father where it is.’

  ‘Don’t you know?’ Sophie asked in dismay.

  ‘Until my aunt said something the other day, I had forgotten—if I had ever known. My grandmother died before I was born. I know its general location.’

  ‘It would be a good thing for me to visit it.’ Sophie forced a smile. ‘Something to discuss with your aunt when I next meet her.’

  ‘I do refuse to discuss the dead, departed and most particularly my aunts on my wedding day, Sophie.’

  The tiny hard knot returned with a vengeance. Her husband was a stranger. She had thought she’d known, but could she count on him in a crisis?

  She reached up and brushed her lips against his. ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘That’s better.’ He gathered her to him again and returned the kiss, nibbling her bottom lip. ‘I have wanted to do this all day.’

  ‘Do you think it is too early? The sun hasn’t set. What will the servants think?’

  He put his hands on either side of her face. ‘Promise me never to be shy with me, Sophie. You are beautiful and I want to unwrap all the layers of your clothes and feast on your magnificent body.’

  ‘My stepmother sent Jane on ahead, so that she’d be there with my things, waiting to help me get ready. We have everything planned.’

  ‘Your stepmother and your maid have no place in our marriage bed.’ He put his forehead against hers. ‘It is well that I told Myers that the entire staff were to have the afternoon and the evening off. He will ensure your things have been safely put away, but no one remains. You will have to allow me to be your maid for tonight.’

  Sophie gulped. ‘We will be entirely alone.’

  ‘What passes between us, Sophie, is strictly private. No audience needed.’

  Rather than glancing at his face, Sophie toyed with the beaded portion of her glove. She wasn’t sure if she should feel pleased or distinctly shocked. He made it seem as though it was an everyday occurrence. And for him perhaps it was. She didn’t want to think about all the other women he must have known. She had to wonder if Myers was used to disappearing when Richard brought his new mistress back to his rooms. Not mistress, she corrected her thoughts. She was his wife. ‘Is it normal for married people to behave this way?’

  ‘Normal people be damned! It is how I want to behave.’

  Sophie folded her hands together primly. ‘I merely asked. I didn’t want to provoke comment. I know how servants talk and gossip. I was brought up to respect convention.’

  ‘There won’t be, not about that.’ He took her hand and slowly removed her glove, finger by finger. The gold band gleamed against her naked flesh. ‘People do not pry into the bedroom of married people, Sophie. Our marriage will be on everyone’s lips for a few weeks. Can your conventional soul withstand that?’

  ‘Yes.’ She put her hand on Richard’s cheek and felt the soft bristles against her palm. ‘I have never done this before.’

  ‘We are both new at marriage.’ He turned his face to her palm and kissed it. ‘We shall grow in it together.’

  His words sent a soothing balm over her jangled nerves. He might be infinitely more experienced in the ways of love than she, but he had never been married before, either. This was the start of a new life for the both of them. It was something they could share together.

  ‘It is a good thought.’

  Sophie started to lean towards him. The carriage jolted to a halt and the coachman opened the door. Instantly she sat bolt upright. Richard got out first and turned back to her with his hands outstretched.

  ‘Are you ready?’

  ‘Ready?’

  ‘I intend to carry you over the threshold.’

  ‘You don’t have to. I must weigh a ton. I ate far too much of the seed cake.’

  ‘You will be as light as a feather. I want this to be perfect.’

  ‘Very well. You may carry me.’

  He put his arms about her and she looped her hands about his neck. Sophie noticed the servants filed out after the door had been opened. Richard had arranged everything to perfection.

  Richard carried Sophie into the bedroom. Myers and Jane had done their work well. The severe masculinity of the room had been transformed with vases of flowers, flickering candles and Sophie’s nightdress, prettily arranged with ribbons. A cold repast of cheese, apples and bread sat on a small table beside the small coal fire. Everything ripe for seduction.

  He could not have planned it better.

  ‘Shall I put you on the bed?’ he whispered in Sophie’s ear.

  ‘I’d prefer to stand.’

  ‘Would you mind telling me why?’ he asked, slowly lowering her to the floor. He had to hope that Sophie’s stepmother hadn’t filled her head with silly notions about propriety. When Sophie had insisted on changing and her stepmother followed her up, Richard had known what was coming—the talk about doing your duty and allowing a man to take his pleasure. Always have the light off and other nonsensical rules. It was little wonder she had seemed distant in the carriage, bringing up all manner of topics for discussion. Her stepmother had probably scared her half to death.

  ‘Why, Sophie, is it necessary for you to stand?’ he enquired softly when she bowed her head.

  ‘You have to be careful when you sit in a crinoline. They have tendency to fly up and expose everything.’ Sophie gave a feeble laugh. ‘It took me ages of practising before my stepmother would allow me out of the house. And you have to know where your skirts are. Fanny Hubert suffered terrible burns to her legs when her skirt caught fire. Luckily, I remembered to shout roll like Henri had taught me or it could have been far worse.’

  ‘Why wear it if it is so dangerous?’

  ‘Because it weighs so much less than six petticoats.’ She laughed and placed her finger against his lips. ‘And here I thought you were more than adequate as a maid.’

  ‘I’m obviously out of practise.’

  ‘Then we must hope you do a good job of it tonight.’ Her hands went to her tiny hat. ‘I expect you to be neat and tidy or Jane will grumble.’

  ‘I will be what I am,’ Richard growled, reaching for her. ‘And your maid will mind her manners about you or she will have to find another situation. But since you asked so prettily, I will do my best to keep your clothes neat.’

  Sophie’s heart gave a little leap as he quickly divested her of the jacket and undid the back buttons of the dress. The cool air licked her shoulders as she stood in the centre of the room dressed only in her crinoline, corset and combination.

  He walked all around her.

  ‘It is a cage.’

  ‘It hooks at the back.’ Somehow the knowledge he had not encountered a crinoline before made everything easier. The enormity of what was about to happen hit her as he carried her into the bedroom. She wanted to please him and all she could think about was that awful night four years ago.

  The last thing she wanted was Richard getting angry with her. She wanted to be perfection and drive all thoughts of other women out of his mind. She wanted to match the picture he had painted in her mind yesterday, but she’d never done anything like this b
efore.

  ‘Step,’ he commanded, releasing the crinoline and pushing it down over her hips. His hands caressed her hips, sending tiny licks of fire throughout her body, driving all thoughts of the other time away. This was different. This was Richard and she desired his touch.

  He undid the hooks of her corset and sent that tumbling to the ground as well. Without giving her time to think, he lifted her up again and gently laid her on the bed.

  ‘I prefer slippers to boots, Sophie,’ he said, undoing the laces of her half-boots and easing them off. ‘And I don’t care about fashion, I want you to be able to breathe.’

  ‘I like to look fashionable.’ Sophie lifted her hands and removed the pins from her hair, allowing it to tumble about her shoulders.

  ‘You look utterly delectable.’ He moved her hair and kissed her neck. ‘Even better when you are undressed.’

  He undid his neckcloth and quickly took off his shoes, coat and shirt but left on his trousers.

  Sophie realised with a start that he wasn’t wearing anything underneath. His skin gleamed golden in the candlelight.

  The bed sagged when he sat down next to her. His hand stroked her hair, sending a tingle down her spine.

  The hard knot of misery had vanished to be replaced by something new and exciting.

  She reached up a hand and stroked his cheek. ‘Hello, husband.’

  Instantly he rolled over on top of her and she felt the full hard length of him.

  He bent his head and kissed her. Their tongues met and parted. The wildfire which had spread through her yesterday, reignited, blazing hotter and more out of control because she knew what was coming. Her nipples tightened and her back arched, demanding more of him.

  His mouth left hers and trailed down her throat, lower and lower until he reached her breasts. Rather than moving the material away, his tongue drew lazy circles, turning it translucent, so that her nipples showed a dusky pink.

  She squirmed and her drawers rubbed against the apex of her thighs, sending a fresh wave of pleasure throughout her body.

  Her head thrashed backwards and forwards on the pillow, but still he continued to suckle through the cloth. Her breasts grew full and ached.

  ‘Please,’ she gasped out, tugging at his shoulders. ‘Please.’

  He lifted his head. ‘Allow me to pleasure you, Sophie. It makes me happy. I have dreamt about this. We are man and wife. Nothing is forbidden.’

  ‘I know,’ she said in a small voice. ‘I want to do it right.’

  ‘Relax.’ He ran his hand down her flank, before placing his fingers at the apex of her thighs. The new sensation sent pulses of warmth through her. Her body bucked and she knew she wanted more. She wanted to feel all of him.

  ‘We are overdressed,’ she whispered.

  He started to undo her combination, but the buttons stuck and he ripped it.

  ‘I will buy you a new one,’ he murmured, nuzzling her ear as his hands slipped off his trousers. ‘You are more beautiful than I dreamt. Allow me to explore you.’

  She gave a nod.

  His hand returned to the apex of her thighs and slipped in between her nest of curls, parting her folds. The action sent fresh waves of pleasure throughout her body.

  His silken warmth covered her. She ran her hand down his hard muscular back, marvelling. She cupped his buttocks and held his against her, lifting her hips to meet his.

  The tip of him nudged her.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he breathed in her ear. ‘This will hurt. There is no way around it.’

  He positioned himself and drove deeply between her thighs.

  The pain and burning instantly blotted out all the earlier pleasure.

  Sophie froze, shocked. She’d expected a pinprick of pain, not this burning sensation. A tiny cry of ‘no’ emerged from her throat. She tried to close her legs and her body bucked upwards, driving him deeper, making it worse. She beat her fists against the mattress in frustration. She had wanted this to be perfect. She wanted it to be like her dreams.

  ‘Shush, it will be fine. Trust me. It was necessary, but now I will make it better.’ His voice came through the pain and the panic subsided.

  She forced her body to lie still and concentrated on the bed hanging and trying to breathe slowly.

  He was deep within her, unmoving. She noticed the small things—how his chest felt against hers, how the candlelight highlighted the planes of his face and the way his fists were clenched as if he was under some nearly overpowering urge. She ran an experimental hand down his back, but he still didn’t move.

  His lips brushed her temple. ‘There, it wasn’t too bad. I had to break your maidenhead.’

  ‘Is that all there is?’

  He raised himself up on his elbows and his mouth curved up in a sensuous smile. ‘Do you want more?’

  She wrinkled her nose, considering. ‘Yes, please. I liked the first bit very much, but not what just happened.’

  He began to slowly move within her. ‘We shall have to see if we can get you to enjoy this bit as well. Relax and open your legs wider.’

  She tried to and he moved his hips slowly, going deeper, then retreating as his mouth returned to hers. The gentle movement reignited the fire within her. Her hips lifted in time with his, matching him.

  The movement became faster and more intense, but she was swept along on a wave of intense pleasure.

  Finally he drove hard and cried out before collapsing on her.

  She put her arms about him and held him, glorying in being one with him, her body alive with new sensations. Richard was right. It would have been foolish to wait any longer. She was pleased he’d insisted on their marriage.

  ‘Thank you,’ he said, placing a kiss on her temple.

  ‘For what?’

  ‘For being you.’

  ‘How can I be anyone else?’

  He rolled off her and started to move away.

  ‘Where are you going?’ She held out her hand. Her entire body seemed to be remade and he wanted to leave her.

  He returned with a damp cloth. ‘We need to clean you up.’

  She looked down and saw the blood on her thighs. Her hands went to hide it. ‘I’m no longer a virgin.’

  ‘You are truly my wife.’ He nipped her chin. ‘And well worth waiting for.’

  He moved her hands and wiped her thighs. The cool cloth contrasted with the burning, soothing her. Her hips moved upwards, seeking the relief. He slowed the movement of the cloth and stroked her gently. The heady longing returned and she knew she wanted his hands on her. She wanted him inside her again.

  When he had finished, he gathered her in his arms and held her. She felt him grow hard and knew he wanted her again. The thought gave her a heady sense of power.

  ‘All gone.’

  ‘Do you intend to do it again?’ She hesitated.

  ‘Please?’

  He gave a brief laugh. ‘Unfortunately you are too sore. We have the rest of our lives and I intend to teach you all the ways it is possible to have pleasure.’

  She wriggled. ‘I believe I shall like that very much.’

  Much later, Richard lay with Sophie in his arms. It had taken more self-control than he thought possible to avoid taking her again.

  He had done the right thing in marrying her. He was not going to become like his father, overly possessive and jealous, driving her away. He wasn’t going to fall in love with her at all. He was going to look after her and protect her. The way he felt about her and having her in his life frightened him.

  Richard stiffened. His father. With mental apologies to Sophie, he released her and rolled away from her warm body.

  He needed to tell his mother about his father’s arrival and plans such as he knew them. It was not something which he could put in a letter. He had to see his mother and suffer the hysterics, but then he’d be done.

  He ran his fingers through Sophie’s hair. It was better to keep Sophie out of any fireworks. She didn’t understand the problems and the way bo
th parents had used him when he was little. The last thing he wanted was for her to be hurt. He’d promised to keep her safe. He could not ask her to take on this burden.

  ‘When we are in the Alps, Sophie, and we know each other better,’ he murmured. ‘Then I will explain. I’m sure you will understand.’

  She murmured softly in her sleep. He took it for a ‘yes’.

  Chapter Twelve

  Sophie awoke, naked and alone in the large bed. The sunlight flooded on to her face. Her only ornaments were her engagement ring and the thin band of gold Richard had placed on her finger yesterday. It took her an instant to think where she was and why. Her body ached with muscles she didn’t know she had. She reached out a hand to touch Richard. Even though she could see the imprint of his head on the pillow, the space beside her was cold.

  She glanced about the bedroom. Someone had cleaned up the candle wax and the uneaten meal. Her dress and underthings no longer lay on the floor and her robe was neatly folded at the foot of the bed. A small fire blazed in the grate. But Richard was nowhere to be seen.

  Something inside her shrivelled. She reached for the robe and slipped it on. What had she expected—that Richard would watch over her while she slept, transfixed by her beauty? That he’d be so enamoured of her charms that he wouldn’t bear being separated from her?

  Her mouth twisted. All of her doubts and fears from yesterday came crowding back in. Had she done the right thing by marrying this quickly? Did she truly know the man she had married? The man who promised passion, but never mentioned his finer feelings?

  Marry in haste, repent at leisure.

  She had certainly married in haste. She hadn’t even given herself time to think. And Richard had never claimed anything more than desiring her. Was desire enough to build a marriage?

  And she was stuck here until Richard returned, unable to dress herself without assistance. Silently she cursed the twenty-four hooks of her corset and the fifteen back buttons of her going-away dress. The other dresses she’d packed were just as bad. Without assistance, she was as helpless as a babe in arms.