Mallory started to have second thoughts.
Perhaps she wasn’t quite ready for such an intimate relationship. She started to roll off the bed, but his hand caught her wrist.
They stared into each other’s eyes for a long, intense moment. Neither moved. Neither spoke…but Mallory knew her thoughts were mirrored on her face—she wanted to stop. Now.
He spoke first. “Don’t let it frighten you.” He inched closer. “I’ll stop if you want me to, but Mallory, please—it’s the way things are supposed to be between a man and woman. Trust me, darling.” He raised her wrist and placed a kiss on the tender pulse point. He nibbled his way up her arm, past the tender flesh in the crook and up her neck.
Her fear ebbed and pleasure returned.
His teeth nibbled on the lobe of her ear and she allowed him to press her back on the bed. His hand still on her wrist, he guided her hand to his erection.
How soft it felt! And hot, but also hard, like iron wrapped in velvet. Except this rod of iron had a life of its own! It quivered beneath her touch…but no longer frightened her. She ran one finger up and down the length of him and marveled at his response. “Can you feel this?”
Above her head, John groaned an answer.
She raised her eyes to his. “Is this like what you did to me? Is that how you feel?”
“And if I say yes?”
She slid a sly glance up at him, and then tightened her hold around his shaft.
“Now I’ve gone and done it,” he said with an unsteady grin, even as his hand covered hers and started teaching her how to pleasure him. He kissed her as he did it, his tongue strokes mimicking the motion of her hand.
Mallory groaned against his lips.
She felt his hand move down her body toward the sensitive spot he’d discovered between her legs. With a shiver of anticipation, she attempted to shield herself, but his knee slid up between her legs and held her in place.
“Don’t be afraid, love,” he said in her ear, and lifting his body, settled himself between her legs.
John pressed against her, testing her. She was slick and ready for him. He looked down at her beneath him. For a fleeting moment, he remembered another time, another place when they had been like this. But that night, she’d been frightened. Had he overcome her fears this time?
Her eyes appeared wide and luminous in the moonlight. “John?”
“Yes, love.”
Her lips curved into a timid smile. “I do trust you.”
He pressed her hands into the mattress on either side of her head. She looked at him with expectancy and yearning.
She was his woman.
His wife.
And after tonight, no other man would have her.
With fierce pride, he kissed her, demanding a response, and then, when he felt her lips move against his, when he felt her open to him, inviting him, he entered her with one smooth, probing thrust, tearing the thin protection of her maiden-head.
Mallory’s body tensed. She strained up off the mattress. Her fingers clenched his. Any cry she might have made he silenced against his mouth.
John went still, giving her a chance to adjust to the sensation of him inside her. She was so damn tight. His body shook with the need to push forward into her. Sweat dampened his brow. He whispered, “It will be all right, Mallory. The rest will be pleasure. Trust me.”
“I trust you.” Her muscles gradually relaxed.
Steadily, carefully, John began to move inside her. “This is the way, Mallory. Ah, you feel so good…you’re so beautiful. Let yourself come with me…”
Her first hesitant movement in response sent his spirit soaring. “Yes, Mallory…come with me…come.” Dear God, he could lose himself in her.
The pain and shock Mallory had felt at his entry subsided. She listened to his words of love and encouragement the way a pupil listens to a favorite teacher. His voice seemed to rumble deep through where they were joined, and it set off little radiating rings of desire.
This was how it was between a man and a woman. This was what she couldn’t remember from her wedding night. His breathing was labored and shallow. She squeezed her legs against his sides and felt him groan as his next thrust took him deeper.
This was not mere animal copulation, as she’d been led to believe years ago. This was an act of joining, of becoming one, of uniting.
Mallory clung to him, finding herself again reaching for that elusive pinnacle that had teased her moments before. Only this time, they flew toward it together. John kept taking her higher and higher—and then she reached it, that place she’d never imagined existed. What she found changed her forever. Her body shuddered with her release and then, wave after unrelenting wave of pure, exquisite pleasure rolled through her. It vibrated outward from where their bodies were joined and carried her she knew not where, she cared not where. Her only thought was holding onto the man in her arms.
John heard her startled cry, felt her muscles contract and the warm rush flow through her. With one deep, hard thrust, he filled her with all he had to offer and found his own sweet oblivion.
Neither moved for what seemed like hours. Slowly, the world righted itself and they were brought back to reality.
John rolled over, bringing Mallory with him to lie on his chest. Her arms hung limply over his shoulder. He kissed the top of her head.
“Is it always like that?” she asked.
He hugged her close. “No, it’s never been like that before,” he answered. He pulled the sheets out from underneath and covered their nakedness.
Mallory started to roll off, but he held her place. He wanted her this close. Her heart beating against his chest matched his own. Running the tips of his fingers down her back, he whispered, “I love you.”
She lifted her head to look into his eyes. “I love you, too.”
In that moment, John knew his life was complete. Sated, loved, and happy, he fell asleep holding his beloved in his arms.
A pounding on the door woke him. He opened one eye, and then the other. The room was filled with the gray light of dawn. The woman next to him sighed and snuggled deeper under the covers.
Mallory.
John came up on one arm and looked down at her. She appeared more beautiful this morning than she had last night in his arms. He traced the pattern of freckles across her nose. Her nose twitched and she waved him away with her hand. She settled herself closer to him. Instantly aroused, John pressed himself against the curve of her bare bottom. He cupped her breast and bit her ear, teasing her awake.
The pounding on the door began again. John frowned. “Whoever you are, go to the devil!” he commanded, and rolled his sleepy wife over, ready to make satisfying love to her.
“Mr. Dawson!” Mrs. Irongate’s voice shouted with authority. “You’ve overslept! It’s almost time for church, and Lord Woodruff is waiting for the coach.”
Mallory’s brown eyes opened. Her movements still lazy, she rubbed the sleep from them and pushed back the thick hair spilling over her shoulder in a wanton mass. Her nipple hardened against his palm.
“Mr. Dawson!”
“Aye, I hear you, Mrs. Irongate,” he answered, his gaze on Mallory, who gave him a sleepy smile. No practiced courtesan had ever seduced him so completely as his wife. “I’ll bring the coach around in less than an hour.” He leaned down and traced the curve of her ear with his tongue. Her heartbeat beneath his hand on her breast quickened.
Mrs. Irongate’s face popped up in the open window. “Less than half an hour,” she corrected him. “You’re already late.”
“Mrs. Irongate, do you think you could give us a bit of privacy?” John snapped, pulling the covers higher.
The housekeeper’s shrewd gaze took in the clothes scattered across the floor. “It appears, Mr. Dawson, that the two of you have had privacy enough. Now, up with you! There’s no more time for Dickie Diddle. You can lie in bed all afternoon long if you wish, but for now, you’d best be getting the coach up to the house or be lo
oking for a new position.”
John made an irritated sound. “It’s only shortly past dawn.”
“It’s halfway through the morning!” she corrected him. “Why else would Lord Woodruff have sent me down here?”
Now she had John’s complete attention. He stared at the sky behind her and realized that what he’d thought was the soft light of early morning was actually leaden, overcast skies.
Convinced he now understood the gravity of the situation, the housekeeper said, “We’ll see you up at the house in half an hour. And you too, Mrs. Dawson. Don’t forget Lord Woodruff likes to see all his servants in church. Terrell usually hitches up the hay wagon for the rest of us.” With those words, she marched off.
Mallory had come fully awake by now. She looked over her shoulder at him.
“Dickie Diddle?” he said, with a lift of an eyebrow.
A soft blush stained her cheeks. She looked so incredibly tempting, John decided to wish Lord Woodruff to the devil and pull her under the covers. After all, what did he care about another steward’s position?
But Mallory stopped him. “John, we dare not make Lord Woodruff angry. We need his approval to host the harvest home. Everyone is expecting it to be here now. In fact, we should talk to him as soon as possible…and hopefully when he’s in a good mood.”
John studied her, weighing his priorities.
She placed a hand on his chest. “We must go.” With a grunt of dissatisfaction, he threw back the covers and bounded out of the bed. He was still fully aroused. Conscious that she was watching him, he gave her a small bow as he picked his breeches up off the floor. “It’s my base nature—and the natural response to having such a lovely bed partner,” he explained.
“Then we both have base natures,” she admitted shyly, and he laughed. She started out of bed, and then grimaced.
“Mallory, did I hurt you?”
“I’m sore in places I didn’t know existed. I didn’t feel this way after our wedding night.”
John climbed into his breeches, a niggling of guilt pulling at his conscience. “I’m sure it’ll go away.”
She took a few steps around the cottage. “The stiffness is already leaving,” she said, but John wasn’t listening.
Instead, he was mesmerized by his first sight of his wife in the light of day. What a beauty he’d married and he silently thanked his father for arranging the match. Her legs were long and incredibly shapely, with slim, muscular thighs and trim calves. The rosy nipples of her breasts peeked out at him from the tangles of her hair.
With the shy expression of an innocent, she smiled at him, and John thought his heart would stop in his chest.
Here was the one woman who loved him for himself. He had no money. The fine houses, horses, and other trappings of power were gone. All that was left was the man.
She stroked his arm lightly. “I love you.”
“You have my heart.” He brought his lips down over hers, sealing his promise with a kiss.
Her surrender was as sweetly complete as it had been the night before. He would have laid her down upon the bed and taken her right then, except for Mrs. Irongate’s sharp voice. “Mr. Dawson, hurry!”
John lifted his head. “Is the damn woman waiting for me outside the door?” he asked rhetorically. He placed a quick kiss on Mallory’s nose. “Later, this afternoon,” he promised. He slipped on his pants, pulled on his boots, and grabbing his shirt up off the floor, let himself out.
Mrs. Irongate was impatiently waiting for him on the path. “It’s about time.”
He waved her on, pulled his shirt over his head, and, whistling, headed to the barn to see if Terrell had thought to harness the coach and wagon.
John looked up at the overcast skies and thought he’d never seen such a beautiful day. With any luck, it would rain and he could spend the afternoon making love to his wife.
Terrell did not have the coach hitched. John got him moving with a low growl and then hurried back to the cottage. He needed to shave and make himself presentable for church.
Rapping once on the door to let Mallory know he was coming in, he entered the cottage. “I’ve been thinking of how we should approach Lord Woodruff on the harvest home—” he started without preamble and stopped when he realized his wife was glaring at him with fire in her eyes. She was dressed and ready to go, her wild hair coaxed and tamed back into its proper braid, but her color was high and her fists were doubled so tight at her sides, she fairly shook with rage.
Alarmed that someone may have tried to hurt her, John rushed to her side. “Mallory, what’s wrong? Has something happened?” He was her protector, her defender. No one would dare harm her while she was guarded by his love.
Words seemed to be choked in her throat. She backed away from him as if she abhorred the sight of him.
“Mallory?” He took a step toward her.
“Stop! Don’t come near me.” Hot, angry tears welled up in her eyes. It broke his heart to see them there.
“What is it? Tell me what’s wrong and I’ll make it right.”
“Make it right?” she repeated, an edge of hysteria in her voice. “I trusted you. You told me you loved me, and I believed you.”
“Mallory, what’s wrong?”
“There, John.” She pointed to the reddish-brown bloodstains on the top of the white coverlet. “There’s what’s wrong. Did you really believe I was so naive that I wouldn’t realize I was a virgin when I saw those stains?”
Chapter 14
Cold blows the wind to my true love.
“Cold Blows the Wind”
John was faced with two choices: lie or admit the truth. There was the devil to pay either way.
So he decided to try and use a bit of each—the truth with a touch of a lie to make it palatable.
“Mallory, it’s not what you think,” he assured her, but she wasn’t interested in being placated.
“I’m right, aren’t I?” She demanded impatiently.
She didn’t wait for his answer, but crossed her arms against her stomach as if she felt a sudden chill and started walking for the door. He stepped in her path. She turned and walked in the opposite direction, putting space between them.
By the hearth, she confronted him. “Did you or did you not consummate our marriage on our wedding night?”
“Let me explain—”
“You can answer yes or no. It’s that simple—”
“No, it’s not that simple,” he ground out.
“You didn’t,” she said, accepting his refusal to answer for what it really was, an admission of guilt. She drew a deep breath, steadying herself, before saying, “But I saw the blood on the sheets myself. There was more blood than there is now. How did you manage that?”
He held up his thumb with the small scar on it. “It was my blood you saw. I cut my thumb with a pen knife.”
She stared in fascinated horror at the scar. “Our marriage was never consummated. For the last seven years that I’ve spent waiting for you, I was never actually married in the eyes of the church or the law. I could have gotten an official annulment and accepted Hal’s proposal with a free and clear conscience. I could have married another man and had children by now!”
He moved toward her. “Mallory, you’re working yourself into hysterics over nothing. After all, the fact remains, we are married.” He reached for her arm, wanting to draw her close and reassure her. “There’s no harm in what happened between us last night.”
“No harm?” She yanked her arm away and moved across the room from him. “You’ve lied to me. All this”—she waved her hand to encompass the cottage—” has fallen on my shoulders because of my marriage to you. I could have walked away from the fear of debtor’s prison and the enormous debt and being chased through the streets of London like a common criminal. I could have had a home and a family—”
“And I’ll give you those things,” he swore, “if you will stay by me.”
“Stay by you? A man who has so completely d
ebased everything I believe in with his lies?”
He was across the room to her in two long strides. She started to turn away, but he captured her arms. She struggled against him, tossing her head and fighting to be free.
He forced her to look at him. “I love you.”
For a second, he saw a softening in her eyes. Then she averted her face from him, the cut going directly to his heart. He struggled with the desire to shake sense into her.
“Do you remember what happened on our wedding night?” he demanded gruffly. “Beyond my walking into the room?”
Staring at the door, she refused to answer. An angry muscle worked in her jaw.
“Stop acting like Joan of Arc,” he said. “I love you, Mallory. But that night and what happened afterward has been between us since we first met in London. Let’s take it out in the open now…and whether you wish to admit it or not, I know the truth.”
“What truth? That our whole marriage has been a deception?”
“All right, if that’s the way you want it put! But who was deceiving whom? You don’t remember anything of our wedding night. The wine you drank was drugged. You passed out in my arms before I could even touch you.”
“Let go of me,” she ordered coldly.
He did as she’d bidden him.
Mallory stepped back, rubbing the places on her arm where his hands had been.
“I didn’t know the wine was drugged,” she said at last.
“Did my father have a hand in it?”
She blinked in surprise. “Your father? No, my mother did it. She hadn’t meant for me to drink so much, but I was nervous and exhausted. Papa’s funeral had taken so much of my time and energy and then planning the wedding on such short notice right afterward—I was not myself, and she was worried about me. Her only purpose in drugging the wine was to relax me. It wasn’t meant as an insult.” She drew a deep breath. “But if you remembered it all, why didn’t you tell me, John? Why have you let me live a lie for so long?”
“Because I believed that was what you wanted.” He put his hands on his hips and stared out the window before saying, “If I had confessed that I hadn’t consummated the marriage, or if that damn wedding sheet hadn’t been stained, Father would have ordered me back from the military. I wasn’t going to give up the only freedom I’d known in my life for a mere slip of a girl who was a complete stranger to me. Furthermore, Father had already threatened to throw you and your mother out of Craige Castle unless I went along with the marriage. He told me it was the only way you could save your home.” He turned toward her. “And think what you will of me, Mallory, I’m not so cold-blooded that I would take a green girl while she’s passed out unconscious!”
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