Page 35 of The Icy Duke Claims a Bride

“I don’t know what you mean or what you want me to say! I’m your wife, and you’re my husband. Why don’t you just want me the way other men want women? And why are you staring at me like that?”

Hugh composed himself. He was indeed staring at Catherine. With her face flushed, her green eyes blazing, and her chest rising and falling rapidly, he was entirely transfixed by her.

She was again wearing a very simple dress made of some pale muslin, this time tied with a blue silk sash. Her breasts were sufficiently full that even a respectable neckline could not entirely hide them from view, and her slender waist accentuated her feminine curves.

“Because you are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen in my life, Catherine,” Hugh admitted.

That made her pause.

“What do you mean?” she asked, such wariness in her voice that he half expected her to run out of the room.

“I mean only the words that I say. You’re beautiful, and I want you very, very much. I want to kiss you every time that I see you, and I want you in my bed at night. But I don’t want you to be afraid, and I don’t know what I can do to stop that.”

Again, she seemed stunned but made no move to leave. The two Great Danes seemed to have settled down on the hearthrug for a nap, but the Irish Setter watched them for a few moments longer before joining its companions, deciding at last that Hugh was a friend and not a foe.

Slowly, Hugh closed the study door and approached his wife.

“I’m not afraid of you,” Catherine insisted, her voice trembling slightly despite the determination on her face. “I told you that before.”

As if to prove that fact, she reached up and removed his mask with trembling fingers.

Taking a deep breath to suppress his natural apprehension at being exposed, Hugh took her hand and brought it to his lips. Despite the surge of anxiety he felt at being deprived of his mask, he also felt somehow freer and closer to her.

She made a soft, almost pained sound as his lips touched her skin.

“You might not be afraid of me, but you are afraid of something, Catherine. I can see it in your eyes and hear it in your voice. What is it? Are you afraid that it will hurt when I take you?”

She shook her head, flushed and slightly trembling. “I’m afraid that it will feel good,” she whispered and then hid her face in his chest as he drew her into his arms.

“It will feel good to you,” he confirmed. “To both of us. I promise I will do nothing that does not bring you pleasure. But why should that frighten you?”

“Because I cannot control how I feel when you touch me,” she admitted, raising her eyes to his. “And I do not know if I can trust you. I have never trusted any man.”

Hugh kissed her lips very lightly and cupped her face in his hand. “Then we will go very slowly, and you can stop me whenever it feels too good.” He smiled. “You will see that you can trust me, eventually. Your dogs seem to trust me already, and they’re meant to be great judges of character.”

Despite herself, Catherine laughed at his comment, and he took the opportunity to kiss her full on the mouth, feeling her melt gradually into his embrace.

There was no doubt that his touch brought her pleasure, no doubt that she struggled to accept it. It might take days or even weeks before she could allow herself to fully enjoy any ravishment at his hands.

Hugh therefore kept the touch of his hands and lips light and devoted solely to his wife’s face, neck, hands, and arms, ignoring the lustful fantasy of bending her over his desk and raising her skirts, or at least filing it away for a future occasion.

In lieu of more direct sexual caresses, he deployed words, hoping both to soothe and arouse her.

“It is natural to enjoy your husband’s kisses,” he assured her. “It is meant to feel this way. It will be natural to enjoy it when I kiss your naked body, too. Can you imagine how that will be?”

Catherine moaned again and kissed him passionately, her hands tangling in his hair.

“Think of your breasts in my hands, my tongue running over your skin, my fingers touching your most intimate places… Do you know how soft and wet you will become?”

“Oh, God, Hugh!” she gasped.

“Soft and wet enough to accommodate me without any discomfort. Do you know how we join together, Catherine?”

She nodded but closed her eyes, her hands now tightly gripping his lapels. “I know that you must be inside me, but I cannot imagine how that will be. I have never seen a man’s naked body.”

Hugh was very close to suggesting that he might take her upstairs and show her the object of her curiosity when a loud clanging noise made them cling to one another in surprise rather than desire. The dogs also scrambled up and barked excitedly at the door.

“The dinner gong,” Catherine said, and they both laughed.

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