Page 26 of The Lord Next Door
“You had a mistress?” she asked. Her sisters had told her that men did not have to wait for the sanctity of marriage, that no one assumed they would. Victoria had always thought that seemed rather unfair.
“Yes, but rest assured, I have one no longer. I would never dishonor our marriage like that.”
She wondered why that didn’t reassure her. Perhaps because it sounded as if he was more worried about how the “marriage” appeared than about hurting her feelings? But he was a man, and she knew men did not think of emotions as women did.
“So you have…” She waved vaguely toward the bed. “…done that before.”
He tilted his head, his eyelids lowered as he studied her. “Yes.”
“Mrs. Wayneflete said that I might enjoy it, though perhaps not the first time.”
“I would make sure you enjoyed it.”
His voice had deepened, roughened, losing some of the civilized, so-in-control sound. It did something to the inside of her, sent a strange, hot feeling shooting down into her stomach, down even lower, where it lingered with a heat that was almost…moist.
How could he make her feel this way?
Lord Thurlow put his glass down, and she gave a little start.
“But I don’t want you to be frightened when I touch you,” he said briskly, “so I have an idea of a way to introduce you to the intimacy of marriage.”
“Besides taking our time?”
He gave a small smile. “Besides that. Being that we don’t know each other as adults, and have not had much time for actual courtship, I propose that each night we go one step further in our intimacy.”
Was he trying to alter their bargain? “My lord, I don’t understand what you want of me.”
“I don’t want much, Victoria, but I’ll be grateful if you learn not to flinch when I touch you.”
“But I don’t—”
“Yes, you do.”
She remained silent then, knowing he was right. He held out his hand, and she stared at it.
“Hold my hand, Victoria. I am a man, not some monster you need fear.”
She bit her lip. Was that how she made him feel? Inside her, something softened. Gingerly, she reached out and put her hand in his.
She had only once felt a man’s bare skin, when he’d kissed her hand several weeks ago. She’d been too flustered to think about anything but his lips. Now she realized that his flesh was warm and dry, rougher than hers across his palm. His hand was so much bigger than hers, making her feel fragile and small.
They sat unmoving before the hearth for several minutes, staring at each other. For the rest of her life, she would be with this man, and she must make the best of it. She must learn to forget her hurt feelings, to focus on the fact that his offer of marriage had saved her. He hadn’t needed to do it; it would have been nothing to him to offer her a little money.
Then he gave a tug and slowly pulled. She leaned forward from her chair; he leaned forward in his.
“A simple kiss,” he whispered, his breath now a warmth on her face, “on our wedding day.”
She should resist. He’d already kissed her cheek just that morning. And he’d promised not to rush intimacy. But as she looked into his eyes, so bright and almost fierce with purpose, her resistance began to melt, though she frantically called it back. He was more handsome than any man who’d ever looked her way, and such beauty could be mesmerizing.
Their lips met softly, and her wide eyes stared into his. She’d never been kissed before. And then it was over before she could think what to do. He leaned back, and the extent of her disappointment shocked her. Lord Thurlow released her hand and rose to his feet. She followed, and they faced each other awkwardly. He took his glass and bottle of wine and walked toward the door to his room.
“Good night, Victoria,” he said, without glancing back at her.
“Good night.” She stopped herself from calling him “my lord,” but could not bring herself to substitute his Christian name.
And then he was gone, and she was alone, not quite sure it was relief she was feeling. She sat down at her desk and opened her personal journal, because writing helped everything make sense.
~oOo~
