by Lucy Monroe
“Irisa?”
She blinked and the crystalline droplets in her eyes spilled over, washing down her temples. “It was wonderful, Lucas. You are wonderful. I had no notion our coupling would be so profound. Thank you.”
He didn’t know how to respond to her words. It had been profound. “I hurt you.”
She shyly looked away from him. “Yes. A little. Not as much as I expected.”
“I’m sorry.”
She shook her head, turning her gaze back to his. “How can you apologize after giving me so much pleasure?”
He had given her pleasure. Her convulsing body and shouting had told him that, but he knew it paled in comparison to the satisfaction he felt at joining his body with hers.
“I love you, my darling, perfect wife.” He lifted himself and gently withdrew from her body.
He reached down and pulled the bedclothes up to cover them and settled next to her.
She snuggled into his side. “I love you too, Lucas, and I vow I will be perfect for you.”
“You already are.”
She did not respond as she slid almost immediately into deep sleep, her body pressed securely against his own.
***
Irisa awoke to dim shadows at the sound of a light tapping on Lucas’s bedchamber door. She reached out to touch him, but her hand encountered an empty bed. Then she heard his voice speaking in low tones and the indistinct replies of one of the upstairs maids.
As she came more fully awake, she realized he had closed the bed curtains and she was cocooned in darkness and privacy. Grateful for his consideration, she sat up, tugging the sheet with her, though no one shared the bed to see her nakedness. She winced at the tenderness between her legs when she moved.
It brought back a rush of memories of what had occurred in this very bed before she fell into an exhausted sleep. Lucas had made love to her with as much ardor as she could ever have hoped for. At times, his excitement had actually overwhelmed her. She blushed at the memory of her mad dash beneath the covers. She could not imagine what she had looked like running naked, all but for her garters and stockings, across his bedchamber.
He had not laughed, though. He had followed her and soothed her and pleasured her until she felt as if she would die from it. Then he had pleasured her some more. She could not believe that all husbands took such care with their wives. According to Mama and Aunt Harriet, they did not.
Lucas must truly love her, at least a little bit. No man would show that level of patience when his passions were aroused to such a pitch otherwise. Even if his love was inspired by perfection, it was worth every effort to keep it.
He was worth every effort and his lovemaking was something altogether amazing, but her reaction may have been more passionate than proper.
She let go of the sheet to cover her hot cheeks with her palms as she remembered how out of control she had been.
She had screamed.
More than once.
Had the servants heard? She knew Lucas had. She did not know if she could face him after her wild abandon. Did perfect wives respond to their husband’s caresses in such a wanton fashion?
The curtains to her left opened allowing light from the bedchamber to spill into the dusky shadows surrounding her. She blinked her eyes, trying to adjust to the light and gathered the sheet closer to her body.
“I’ve had a bath brought up for you. You have time to wash before dinner and don that nightgown you were so intent on wearing earlier.”
“Thank you.”
Now that her eyes had grown accustomed to the light she could see that Lucas was dressed. Sort of. He had a shirt and breeches on, but his feet and neck were bare. He held the curtain aside. Did he expect her to parade naked in front of him to reach her bath?
“Could I please have a nightrobe?”
Lucas chuckled as if her question amused him, but he dropped the curtain. He returned moments later with a black silk dressing gown. His. “Will this do?”
“Yes. Thank you.” She reached for it and waited until he once again left her in shadowed privacy before she put it on.
The sleeves fell past her hands and she rolled the cuffs before belting the robe and slipping out of the bed.
Lucas waited for her by the table against the far wall, his expression unreadable. “I suppose this means you will not allow me to play lady’s maid and help you bathe?”
Was he funning her or was he disappointed? She decided that he had been teasing when she noticed the privacy screens near the fireplace. Her bath was undoubtedly on the other side. “I believe I can see to my own bath, sir.”
He sighed, feigning regret. “I suppose you can.”
She ignored him and walked toward the screen, wanting to get away from his too knowing eyes. Although his robe could wrap around her twice she felt more revealed in it than she would have in her own.
“You’re sore.”
She stopped and nodded. “A little.” There was no use trying to dissemble. He had probably noticed the way she walked like an old woman.
“I want you to soak until the water starts to cool.”
“Will it help?”
He nodded and sat down, his attention immediately going to the papers spread on the table in front of him. She wanted to ask what they were, but craved the hot bath more than she did satisfaction to her curiosity.
***
For once, Lucas found it impossible to lose himself in plans for a new model. The intricate work required to build a ship inside of a bottle usually served to settle his thoughts regardless of the cause of his disquiet. Then again, that cause had never before been the tantalizing, naked body of his wife on the other side of a privacy screen in his own bedchamber.
After the initial splashes indicating Irisa had stepped into the tub, he had not heard another sound for the last fifteen minutes or more. It would seem she had taken his demand to soak seriously. From the way she’d been moving, she needed it.
As much as he hated the thought, she would be better off sleeping in her own bed tonight. He did not think he could keep his hands off her if she shared his and she deserved a chance to heal before he took her again. They would share an intimate dinner and then he would see her to her room.
Having made the self-sacrificing resolution, he still could not banish the image of her water-immersed flesh not ten feet away. He wanted to step behind the screen and do exactly what he had offered earlier...play her maid. He would wash her back and the rest of her body as well. And when his hand dipped under the water to clean the folds of skin behind her feminine curls, she would make the noises that had driven him almost past reason before.
His flesh ached and he swore. He was doing himself no favors allowing his mind to take this particular flight of fancy. He hoped dinner arrived soon and provided a distraction or he would not be able to follow through on his honorable intentions to leave his wife alone.
As if conjured by his thoughts, a discreet knock sounded on the door. He called permission to enter while gathering up his papers and putting them safely away. Pansy accompanied Jenny, one of the upstairs maids, when she brought the food into the room.
Pansy curtsied. She held a brush and ribbon in one hand and a nightrail draped over her other arm. “I thought I would ready milady for bed.”
Lucas nodded his permission and Pansy went behind the privacy screen. The renewed sounds of splashing told him Irisa was finally finishing her bath.
She came around the privacy screen dressed in her nightrail and his dressing gown some minutes later. Her hair, which had been in wild disarray before, had been brushed and pulled back into one long, golden braid. She dismissed her maid and Jenny, who had finished laying out their food. He stood to help her into the chair opposite his own.
“Dinner looks lovely.” She had not met his gaze since reappearing from her bath and now spoke to the plate in front of her.
“Irisa.”
“Yes?”
“Look at me.”
She
raised her head, her expression wary.
He thought he understood the reason for her wariness. She was worried he would expect her to make love again and she was too sore to accommodate him. With the unexpected streak of shyness she had shown earlier, she was too embarrassed to bring the subject up.
He smiled reassuringly at her. “You still look tired. Once we have eaten, you can retire to your bedchamber for the evening.”
Her expression went blank and she nodded. “If that is what you wish, Lucas.”
***
Irisa could not sleep. For one thing, she was not tired. Lucas had spoken that faradiddle about her looking fatigued without blinking an eyelash. She had not argued because she knew why he had made the comment. He had not wanted her to sleep with him and pretending concern for her welfare had been his way of saving her the embarrassment of him asking her to leave the chamber.
Thoughts of why he had wanted her to leave the bedchamber would have kept her awake even if she had been exhausted.
She curled her feet under her on the cushion of the window seat and drew Lucas’s dressing gown more tightly around her. She could smell him on the black silk and it comforted her, but it could not replace the warmth of his arms. Which is where she wanted to be. She looked with chagrin at the pretty pink damask coverlet turned back invitingly on her bed.
She didn’t want to sleep there. She never wanted to sleep in her own bed again. She wanted to sleep with her husband. It wasn’t tonnish; she knew that. Ladies had their own chambers for modesty’s sake.
If Lucas wanted her to be modest then he should not have insisted on looking at her naked person in the afternoon light. How could he expect her to maintain proper decorum after that? He’d seen all there was to see. Not that she would march unclothed through their bedchamber, but surely he could not expect her to return to a cold and lonely bed after what they had experienced together in his.
Only that is exactly what he did expect. The evidence to support such a conclusion was irrefutable. She was in her bedchamber. Alone.
She could only think of one reason for that eventuality. Her behavior during their lovemaking had been too unladylike, too much like his mother and she had failed her first test as his wife.
She wanted so much to be the kind of countess he desired, but he needn’t make it so difficult for her. If he had not wanted her to behave wantonly, then he should not have touched her with such intimate pleasure. Didn’t he know what a siren’s call his body sent out? He probably did know and had expected her not to succumb, to behave like a proper lady. But if that were true, it was hardly fair. He should not tempt her beyond reason and then be disappointed when she could not live up to his expectations for the perfect wife.
Why, that was even worse than her parents. At least they had always consistently wanted the same thing...ladylike and biddable behavior. Lucas acted one minute like he wanted her womanly responses and then once she gave them to him, he rejected her.
She jumped off the window seat, her agitation too overwhelming to remain still, and glared at the door that connected their rooms. He was probably sleeping soundly, not caring at all that she was tormented with doubts and worries that a lady should not be plagued with on her wedding night.
The cad.
Before she realized what she was doing, she’d crossed her bedchamber and thrown open the door to Lucas’s. He wasn’t asleep. For some reason that was even worse than if he had been. He sat at the table they had eaten at with some large pieces of parchment spread out in front of him.
He looked up when she entered. “Are you all right, my dear?”
He’d called her my dear, just like some old maiden aunt and his attention was clearly still on the papers in front of him, though he pretended to look at her. The nerve of the man!
“I won’t tolerate this sort of behavior. I really won’t, Lucas. I’m willing to do everything I can to be the sort of countess you require, but I will not be tormented in such a fashion and you might as well know that right now.”
He stared at her as if she had just spoken in Latin.
She glowered at him. “You needn’t pretend you don’t understand. You and everyone else in the ton believe you to be saint, but I know differently. You’re a... a...” She couldn’t think of what to call him and then it came to her. “You’re a tease! Yes you are. Leading me to behave in a perfectly wanton manner and then rejecting me for succumbing to your charms.”
He stood up, concern and confusion evident in his features. “Irisa, what the hell are you talking about?”
She felt the tears that had refused to fall earlier prick her eyes and knew if she didn’t get out of there, he would be witness to her humiliation. “I’ve said all that I meant to say. I will endeavor to remain more ladylike in future, but you must do your part and refrain from tempting me so thoroughly.”
His mouth opened and nothing came out.
“Goodnight, my lord.” She spun on her bare heel and rushed back into her chamber, slamming the door behind her.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Lucas stared in stupefaction at the door Irisa had just slammed. What in the bloody hell had she been talking about?
One thing was certain. His bride was upset and it had something to do with their making love. What had she said? She thought he had rejected her. She’d called him a tease.
What kind of irrational nonsense did she have going through her head now? The only way to find out was to ask her. He felt no better equipped to deal with her current unpredictable mood than he had in handling her virginal nerves. He must have done a poor job with the latter or she would not be in such an unholy snit.
There had been tears in her eyes when she slammed out of his bedchamber. The thought of comforting his wife in a tearful state sent chills down his spine that none of Boney’s spies had succeeded in doing.
He went to the door and opened it. She was a small black lump in the middle of her bed. She hadn’t bothered to get under the covers, but lay on top curled in a shaking little ball. Damn. She was definitely crying.
“Sweeting.”
“Go away, Lucas,” she replied, the words muffled against the coverlet.
“I can’t, little one. Something has upset you and I want to know what it is. Was I too rough with you this afternoon?”
Her answer to that was to let out one loud, long sob.
He couldn’t stand it anymore. Crossing the room in a few quick strides he sat down on the bed next to her and tugged on her shoulder. “Tell me what has upset you.”
She erupted from the covers and threw herself against his chest. He held her while she cried, wondering what the hell had sent her into such a state. She had called their lovemaking wonderful. He could not believe she now regretted it. He rubbed her back in what he hoped was a soothing motion.
After what seemed an interminable amount of time, her tears finally abated.
“Are you ready to talk about it now?”
She shook her head against the now wet silk of his shirt. “I’ve said all I want to say on the subject, my lord.”
He gritted his teeth. Irisa only called him my lord when she was distressed with him. At least now he could be sure it was something he had done. “Unfortunately for my peace of mind, I didn’t understand much of what you said. Perhaps you would do me the great favor of repeating yourself.”
She pulled away from him and gave him the same glowering stare she had when delivering her incomprehensible lecture in his chamber, although now through tear-washed brown eyes. “You needn’t mock me, my lord. I’m well aware I failed to live up to your expectations this afternoon. However, I only think it fair to point out that it was your own fault. You have more experience in this area than I do and if you wanted me to behave with more decorum, you should have refrained from touching me in such a pleasureful manner.”
“You think I was disappointed?” If he had been any happier with his wife’s response, he would have died on the spot.
“You’ve made yo
ur feelings quite clear on the matter.” Two more tears spilled down her cheeks and seared his gut.
He reached out, meaning to catch them with his thumbs, but she turned her head aside.
Thwarted in his desire to comfort, he asked, “How did I make such feelings known?”
He could only remember telling her how much he enjoyed her. Perhaps he had said something over dinner that she had taken the wrong way.
She sniffed and rubbed her eyes and cheeks dry with the cuffs of his dressing gown. “Please don’t play the simpleton with me, my lord. I’m not up to dealing with it right now.”
“I fear it is the role I am destined to perform this evening because I don’t understand how I gave you the impression I was disappointed when in fact I found our time together imminently satisfying.”
“You sent me back to my own room to sleep in a cold, lonely bed.” She sounded as if she were accusing him of treason.
He stared at her, not comprehending this fit and start at all. “It is customary for wives and husbands to keep separate chambers, and I didn’t send you anywhere. I merely suggested you retire after dinner due to your weariness.”
She glared at him. “I wasn’t tired.”
He had known that. Just as he had known that if she stayed in his room he would bury himself in her soft body again. “Are you saying you want to sleep with me?”
If that was what had caused her tears, he would force his male desires under control and sleep chastely beside her. He would not allow her to cry again.
She turned her head away and shrugged.
He tightened his grip on her arms. “Answer me.”
“Yes.” She turned her head back to glare at him once again. “I want to sleep with you every night, but if that is not ladylike enough for you then I will sleep in my own chamber.”
In her cold, lonely bed, no doubt. “Why would you believe I would think it unladylike for you to want to sleep with me?”