Page 73 of The Lady Who Said No to the Duke
It was hard to tell in the subdued light, but his eyes seemed to darken.
‘As you wish.’The knot fell open and he shrugged out of the robe.
Thea kept her eyes fixed on Hal’s face.She hadn’t meant…allof him.Not just yet.
His mouth quirked, but it was as though he was laughing at himself, not her.‘Is this better?’he asked as he slid between the sheets.
‘Yes,’ she admitted and found she could smile too.
‘Are you tired?Are you certain you want me to stay?’
‘No.Yes.I wish… I wish you would kiss me, Hal.’
So he did, taking her in his arms, his body hard and hot through the thin silk of her nightgown.As it had when he had kissed her before, her body knew what was happening, even if she was overwhelmed by sensation and strangeness and new feelings that seemed to be taking over.
At some point she realised that her nightgown had gone and that she was naked against Hal’s bare flesh, realised that marble statues of naked Greeks and Romans bore very little resemblance to what appeared to happen to an English duke in bed with his wife, and then she was lost again.
Sometimes—when he took one nipple between his teeth and tugged gently, when his fingers brushed through intimate curls, explored deeper, when she realised with horror that she was wet there where he was creating whirlpools of pleasure—she felt shy, apprehensive, almost fearful, butthen she thought about how much she loved Hal, how wonderful this all felt, and she let herself relax into the moment.
Her body seemed to know what to do too when his weight came over her and she drew him close.There was a moment of panic when it all seemed too much, a second or so of pain, then they were one and she was being rocked up, up into velvet darkness broken by flashes of light, heard him say her name with an urgency that called for a response, if only she knew how to make it and then her world unravelled into a spiral of pleasure and darkness and joy.
* * *
How long was it before she came to herself?Thea had no idea.She blinked her eyes open and the candles were still alight, although the fire had burned lower.
She was lying on her back and there was a heavy weight across her midriff, which she identified after a moment as Hal’s arm.He was sprawled beside her, face down, deeply asleep, his breath slow and even.
Slowly she found herself able to think clearly, to remember some of what had happened.Not all of it, because much was simply a blur of pleasure.Hal, she realised, had been gentle and careful and hadgiven, not just taken, as whispers she had heard had told her so many men did.Mama, in her careful ‘little talk,’ had warned her that the marriage bed was at best a duty for the woman, something to be endured or tolerated, depending on how considerate one’s husband was.
Clearly, it could also be a joy, if one was married to a man one loved and he was kind and thoughtful.
Only she did not want someone who had to be kind to her.She wanted to be loved as she loved him.Why had she thought she could bear this?Thea asked herself.Ithurt.She felt the first hot tear trickle down her cheek and bit her lip.She did not think she could stop the tears, but she must not wake Hal.Not for a moment must he guess that she was hurting, that she loved him.
* * *
Hal woke to a room in darkness.Beside him he could hear Thea’s soft breathing and realised that his arm was lying heavy across her.To extricate himself without waking her, given that he was face down, was not easy, but it seemed that she was deeply unconscious.
When he was free, he stretched out his right hand and pressed the repeater button on the little carriage clock beside the bed.Five faint tinkling notes told him the past hour.Far too early to wake Thea and, besides, whatever his body was telling him it wanted, now was not the time to make love to her again so soon.
Make love.Yes, that was what it had felt like.And she had responded to him with such instinctive passion, with such innocent trust, that he felt humbled.He would tell her today that he loved her, he decided.Have the courage to believe in that trust.Even if she did not feel quite the same, she would be kind.He winced at that thought, then remembered how important trust was for her.He would not deceive her about his feelings.
Cautiously he slid out of bed, then padded across the deep Chinese rug to the window.Just a little light.He wanted to sit and watch her wake up, however long it took.
When he came back to her side of the bed, the thin dawn light sending his shadow in front of him, he did not see it at first.But when he sat by the bed, leaned in closely to look at her sleeping face, he saw the tear tracks down her cheeks, the way a wisp of hair had stuck in them, the shadows under her eyes.
When he laid his hand on the pillow next to her, it wasdamp.His wife had lain there and cried herself silently to sleep.
She had trusted him, she had responded to him, she had given herself utterly—and in the aftermath, when he’d slept and she had felt safe, she had wept.
Why?He could hardly ask her, put another burden on her to find acceptable lies and half-truths.He’d thought she had found happiness in their lovemaking, but it seemed he’d been wrong.
Hal stood up and backed away from the bed.His heel caught in his discarded robe and he stumbled, caught at a chest of drawers, and Thea murmured something, turned her head, then lay still again.He picked up the robe, drew the curtains closed again and walked out, shutting the connecting door behind him with the faintest of clicks.
Or perhaps that was the sound of his heart cracking.
* * *
Thea woke to see light between a thin gap in the curtains.It was early still, she realised, listening.Although she was unfamiliar with the great house, it did not sound as if anyone was about yet, although doubtless, down in the kitchens, a sleepy scullery maid was labouring over the fires.
