by Glint, Chloe
Kale's face flushed with pleasure. "You do not think me a coward, then?"
"I would not have you be anyone other than Kale," she said. "Can't you feel how sweaty my palm is? I am anxious myself."
"Then maybe it will be better for both of us if we do this slowly." Kale frowned down at their intertwined hands. "Not all at one time. Then one day it will just happen naturally, the way it was meant to."
A slow smile crossed her face. She nodded. It was hard to imagine that she had succeeded in acquiring a husband like Kale, someone who was slow but kind. Despite how eager she was to be a true wife in all ways, she was anxious about moving quickly. Her heart, she realized, was a strange and fickle thing.
"So where do we begin?" She squeezed his hand. "If I am to be honest, I barely know anything about this process."
"Maybe we should start with something simple." Kale searched her face.
"Like what?"
"Like a kiss." Kale whispered the last word, as if the practice was forbidden.
She did not know whether it was the thought of a kiss or the way that Kale had said the word that sent a chill down her spine, but it didn't matter. If there was a way to begin, a kiss was the best. She nodded, her heart thundering. Nervously, her husband nodded back and then released her hand.
As Kale stared deep into her eyes, her palms became balmy with sweat. He placed his hands gently on her shoulders as if afraid she might break and leaned forward. She shut her eyes, shaking half from nervousness and half from excitement. What if she wasn't any good? She could feel his warm breath on her cheeks and could smell wine on his breath. He pressed his lips so timidly against her own that she barely felt them, then he pulled back and stared at her expectantly.
"Was that alright?" Kale asked.
If anything, it was a little disappointing. She nodded. "It was alright."
"Again?" He said this while staring into her eyes.
"Yes."
This time, her husband leaned in quicker. She just barely closed her eyes when she tasted his breath. He pressed his lips against hers again, gently at first but gaining pressure as he turned his head to the right. With a shiver, she stepped in closer and the pressure increased. He let out a gasp of surprise and his tongue touched her bottom lip. A tingle of pleasure raced down her back, causing her skin to become bubble with goosebumps. Kale broke away at once, his face ashen.
"My apologies." Kale paused. "I didn't mean to do that."
"Don't apologize." Heat filled her face as she looked down. "I liked it."
"You did?" His voice was high-pitched. "Truly?"
"Yes." She still could not manage to look at her husband.
"I did too," Kale whispered.
Kale did not ask whether he could kiss her this time. Instead he grabbed her by her shoulders and drew her closer. She could feel everything—his chest, his hips, even a hard bulge that she had never felt before. Her husband slowly traced the entrance of her lips with his tongue. She, still uncertain of what was improper or not, opened her mouth for him. Slowly, as if he was an eel entering a forbidden cave, he explored her mouth. A groan escaped her lips when his tongue brushed against her own. It was surprising how much she enjoyed the feeling of it.
As her husband grew more courageous, she too gained self-confidence. She tangled her fingers in his hair. Once second the two of them were just leaning against each other, the next her husband had her pressed up against the wall. He forced his tongue in further for a fleeting moment, then he pulled back, panting as he stared into her face.
"Wow." Kale squeezed her shoulders.
"Yes." She shivered.
"Are you alright?" Kale asked. "I can stop, if you want."
The thought appalled her immensely. She was ready to keep going, to keep exploring this new and forbidden world.
"Please don't stop," she whispered, her voice hoarse with want.
"Then…may I touch you?" Kale rubbed his thumb against her shoulder blade.
"Of course." Even the thought of it had strange warmth spreading throughout her pelvis.
A nervous grin crossed Kale's face as he nodded. Slowly, he traced the outline of her jaw, moving toward her chin. He ran his fingers over her nose and forehead. When she shut her eyes because every brush of digits on her flesh had tingles running down her spine, her husband brushed his fingers over her eyelids. He even traced her lips, which were surprisingly sensitive beneath his touch.
He journeyed downward, toward where her dress began. For a fleeting moment he hesitated just above her bosom, then he continued and placed his hands on top of her breasts. Though there were still two layers of clothing between his palms and her skin, she groaned beneath his touch. He tightened his grip on her breasts and began to massage them. Though he was clumsy, she enjoyed his tentativeness.
****
As Kale pressed his palms against Camille's bosoms, he was shocked by how his body reacted. He grew a husband's bulge within moments. He wasn't sure what it was about holding his wife's small breasts that enthralled him so. Perhaps it was the softness of them, or maybe it was just because it was something that he did not have. Either way, he enjoyed running his fingers over her breasts enough that his shaft stiffened in reaction. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead, and his breath left his lips in heady gasps. He was a little embarrassed by his forthright reaction. Like all men, he had enjoyed the pleasure of his own body during his early adolescents, but being sweaty and alone was completely different than this. Yet he was strangely glad that, if there was somebody who was to see him in his carnal state, it was Camille.
If he had married Gabrielle, he would have been so intimidated that he would have had a hard time touching her. Imagining her blue eyes on his body made him more nervous than aroused. The girl was the type beautiful enough that she needed a personality as soft as butter to be approachable, and judging from what he had seen at his wedding party, that was not the case.
But Camille was different. His hands still shook, but he didn't feel intimidated by her presence. It helped that her eyes were closed. He could tell she was enjoying herself too because of that. It wasn't that she wasn't beautiful. Now he found her olive skin, warm to the touch, lovely. He didn't mind the strangeness of her hair and eyes either. She was attractive, but not overwhelming. Smart, but not harsh. Different than Gabrielle.
Perhaps better than her too? The thought caused him to freeze as he looked at Camille. His wife slowly opened her eyes. The light from the lantern caught her irises, making them burn. She nervously bit her bottom lip as pink covered her cheeks. As he looked at his bride, he wondered whether he was fickle. He had jumped from favoring Gabrielle to Camille so quickly. Perhaps it was a bad thing. Perhaps he was like his father, too tempted by flesh.
Yet with Camille, it wasn't her body that drew him the most. He couldn't say the same about Gabrielle.
"Is everything alright?" Camille cocked her head. "I was enjoying what you were doing."
"I…" He took a deep breath. His head was getting twisted. "I enjoyed it too, but I feel that it may be best if we stop for today."
His bride's face fell, which surprised him. She nodded, though, and grinned at him. A stray hair had escaped her bun during their kiss. It made a river down her cheek. He reached out and caught the hair between his fingers, then he tucked it behind her ear. Her blush deepened, but her smile returned.
"Let's go to bed, shall we?" he asked.
"Yes." She placed her hand over his own. "Let's."
Chapter Twelve
The next morning, Camille awoke early. An arm was draped across her chest and an elbow stuck painfully in her back. A deep, nasally snore filled the room, making her wince. It sounded like a wild animal growling. There is no way a small man can make such a loud sound, she thought, gazing down at her husband. He snored again. It was loud and rumbling. She didn't know what was worse, the throbbing pain in her middle back or her pounding head. It was a lot different than sleeping next to Gabrielle who slept as silent a
s the grave and didn't punch her in the night.
As her husband let out another deep snore, she winced and clambered out of bed. She pulled on her plumb-colored robe and tightened the sash around her waist. It was improper to walk around the house in just a robe, but she didn't want Kale to wake up just to tighten a corset. She also wasn't sure she could stand to be in the same room with the deep wheezing without pelting her husband to death with pillows. She had no idea how he didn't wake himself up, let alone the entire household.
After wincing, she opened the door to the hallway and saw that all was still. She hadn't had much time to get acquainted with the house the day before, but she knew that because this was the estate of a gentleman, there had to be a library. It wasn't proper for a woman to read, but she had been sneaking books since she could remember. She wasn't good at reading, but it was better than watching her husband impersonate a hibernating bear.
She stuck her head in several doors but saw they were all bedrooms. Once she had checked on the third floor bedrooms, she headed down to the second floor. She finally managed to find a large library with massive mahogany shelves. A large window overlooked the grounds. A desk laden with quills, ink stones, and pieces of parchment was in the middle of the room. She scanned the leather bound books and was shocked by the many titles she saw there. Kale's book collected was extensive. Books on every imaginable topic lined the shelves. Some were even in French. She'd been forced to learn the language as a child because her aunt was from Paris.
With a grin, she headed toward the shelves and selected a book. It was on politics, not at all her genre. She put it back just as a door opened behind her. She jumped and guiltily tightened her robe around her waist, though her skin was not revealed. Who would come into the library at this hour? she wondered.
"You like to read, Ma'am?" asked Mr. Kent who was still out of sight.
"Mr. Kent." She breathed a sigh of relief. She wasn't sure who she had expected, but she doubted the butler would care whether she read or not. With a smile, she stepped out from beyond the shelves. "You surprised me."
"My apologies." Mr. Kent shrugged. "I saw that the door was ajar and thought it was unusual. The master has never been too fond of reading."
"That's a shame." It would have been nice to share tidbits of information between one another. Not that she'd ever reveal she had been educating herself when it was considered unsuitable for a woman to do so. "I rather like it. When I find the right book, that is."
"Is that the reason you snuck out of your room at such an early hour?" Mr. Kent winked at her. "You were on a journey to get a book? Knowing the master, I doubt he would mind if you went to the library."
She flushed. "If I were to be honest, I was awoken by his snoring."
"Ah." Mr. Kent threw back his head and laughed. "I should have realized that. He's always been that way. Sounds like a yowling cat, doesn't he?"
"Indeed." Her grin widened.
She found herself liking Mr. Kent more and more. It took her a moment to realize why. The man reminded her of her sister.
"I can help you find a book, if you like," Mr. Kent said. "Something more suitable for you. Unless you're excited by the topic of Christianity and politics? I saw the section you were in. That's all you'll find there."
"I wondered." She shook her head. "I'm afraid politics doesn't suit my tastes enough for me to read much about it. I enjoy stories and poetry much more. Does this place have anything of the sort?"
"This library has everything." Mr. Kent's lip quirked in the corner. "I think I know just the book."
"You are awfully familiar with this library, Mr. Kent." She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.
"You are not the only one who has become accustomed to sneaking books out of libraries." Mr. Kent froze. "Though I supposed I am too bold, speaking to you in such a manner."
"I am bold myself, wandering around in a robe." She crossed her arms over her chest as she remembered her situation. "I would like us to be friends, if that is alright with you. I can use friends more than servants. I do not know anyone here."
"I would gladly be your friend." Mr. Kent beamed as if she had made him the happiest man alive. "I feel that we will make a good match, Milady."
Still beaming, Mr. Kent beckoned her over to the bookcase to her right. She followed behind him, looking at all of the titles. The smell of paper and leather filled her nostrils. It was the best scent in the room, better than any perfume. She came to a stop in front of a leather bound book about love poems. It was above her head. She reached out to grab it, lost her footing, and almost crashed into the bookshelf. The butler grabbed her from behind and steadied her. His hands were on her hips. Her heart pounded. Mr. Kent was too close. She was just about to pull away when a figure darkened the door.
"What is going on here?" said a female voice.
It was a blonde-haired maid with big blue eyes. Her hair was mused and her clothes were wrinkled, as if she had gotten dressed in a hurry. She looked down at herself and realized how the situation must have looked.
"It was nothing," she said. "I tripped and Mr. Kent caught me."
The blonde-haired maid eyeballed her suspiciously. She was so embarrassed that she turned away from Mr. Kent and marched out of the room, her head down.
****
Kale opened his eyes and felt the bed in search of his wife, but he couldn't locate her. A slow smile crossed his face. Last night, he'd dreamed about her. The grin quickly disappeared when he realized his dream had caused his body to react. His shaft was stiff, causing a tent to form in the bed. Flushed, he rolled onto his side, wondering if his wife had seen his excitement and had thus chosen to leave the room. He'd have to find her and say he was sorry.
As he sat up and rubbed sleep from his eyes, the door to the bedroom burst opened and Camille came into the room. Her face was ashen and she was shaking. She threw herself onto the bed and groaned into the pillows.
"Is everything alright?" he asked. Fierce protective urges he had never known before made his blood boil. If somebody hurt his bride, he'd fight back.
"I will never, ever wander the estate in just my robe again," she said. "I caused the most awful misunderstanding in regards to Mr. Kent."
"What happened?" Jealousy strong enough to peel the paint from the walls roared in his chest. It surprised him how much he wanted to gather his wife into his arms and defend her from all of the lechers of the world.
"It was my own fault." She pounded her pillow with her fists clenched. "I tripped and fell into Mr. Kent. One of the maids saw him helping me up and misunderstood."
The angry balloon in his chest deflated like a punctured pig's bladder. Images of her being pressed against the torso of a bearded man with a cruel smile left his mind. She was so red after merely tripping into Mr. Kent? He still noted a prickle of jealousy—his butler was considered notoriously attractive by the many maids—but that was all. He knew he had little to worry about. At least, he hoped that he did.
"You don't have to be concerned about that." He patted her arm gingerly. "Everything is quite alright."
She propped herself up on her elbows and glared at him. "You're laughing at me, aren't you? You weren't there. You don't know what it looked like."
He fought to keep the grin off of his face. Poor, virginal bride.
"It isn't humorous." She picked up a pillow and swatted him with it. He barely felt it. "This would not have happened if you could control your own snoring."
He stared at her, blank-faced. He snored? He didn't know that. Then again, the only one who had been in his bed before his bride was his old cat, Nelson, who had died the year before. The cat had never complained. And he couldn't believe his bride had hit him with his pillows. He reached out and pried the soft bedding from her fingers. She looked down at herself as if she wasn't sure she was really there.
"I'm sorry I hit you with the pillow," she said. "I lost my temper. I'm rather cranky today. I didn't get much sleep and—OOF!"
&n
bsp; He threw the pillow at her chest. He'd meant it as a joke, but with how she was staring at the pillow with such horror on her face, he thought his bride just might start weeping. She must have noticed the grin upon his face, though, because the frown slid away. She threw the pillow straight into his face.
It hurt.
Chapter Thirteen
Three weeks went by. The atmosphere at the table where Camille sat with Kale was comfortable. She could scarcely remember her life before her wedded one. It was different, but not bad. The intimacy between her and her husband was different than anything she had experienced with any other person, and the two of them had not even mated yet. In fact, they hadn't even gotten far past the point of kissing one another. Even she, who was as nervous as a fowl in the sights of a weapon, was beginning to grow impatient for her husband's touch.
As she picked at the potato on her plate, her husband must have noted her shift in mood because he reached out and grabbed her hand. Her heart pounded and her skin tingled. She turned her head and stared into the face of her new spouse. He looked back at her with his eyes bright and concerned.
"Is everything alright?" he asked.
"Fine." She paused. "I think I may retire early tonight, though. I've grown tired."
"Really?" He frowned. "Are you sure you're well?"
"I'm fine." She forced a smile on her face. "I will go upstairs now. Will you join me shortly?"
"Naturally." Her husband released her hand. "I'll hurry."
"Thank you."
She stood up and dusted invisible food particles from her clothes. The maids gave her strange looks as she left the dining room. When she entered the hallway, she thought of her husband touching her. The vision changed into him and Gabrielle. She immediately shook her head to clear it. The two of them were just fine. She was not a child. She didn't think that she was in love with Kale yet, but the possibility was there. And she thought that he liked her too, regardless of who he was fond of before. The reason why Kale only kissed her now was because the two of them had vowed to move slowly, not because he was repulsed by her.