Page 16 of A Whisper of Desire
If, as Maitland suggested, they waited until they knew each other better, would the enormity of the event just build up to gargantuan proportions? What would it be like to lie with him? To experience all the fire he hid under the ice? She’d had a taste and it was not unpleasant. She moved restlessly in the water. Her body remembered the feel of his as he had kissed her, stroking his large hands over her skin and igniting need deep inside of her.
Perhaps she should reevaluate her decision to play the coward tonight. She laid her head back on the edge of the bath and closed her eyes. Shewastired, but the knowledge that her husband lay alone in the room next door left her with butterflies in her stomach.
He might be lying there wondering what she was doing. He might be dreaming of her.
“Let me help you out of the tub, Your Grace, before you get too wrinkly. You want to look beautiful for your husband.”
Susan, her lady’s maid, had agreed to come with Marisa into her married life, and Marisa had never been so grateful. Susan had not been there to hear her husband’s considerate and understanding platitude, the offer of allowing her to get to know him better before she came to his bed. How embarrassing that he’d realized she’d been afraid.
She did as Susan said and stood while Susan dried her and helped her into a scandalously sheer red silk night rail that Beatrice had given to her, saying that Maitland would worship her for life once he saw her in it.
“Susan, you’re a widow. Did you know your husband well before you married him?”
Susan kept brushing her hair. “Yes, we courted for almost twelve months before my previous employer gave us permission to marry. Matthew was his Tiger.”
She raised her hand to cover Susan’s where it stroked her hair. “You must miss him.”
“I do. I still talk to him every night. I’m just thankful we had five wonderful years together before consumption got him. I almost made us wait another twelve months before we wed so I could rise to lady’s maid more quickly. I would have missed twelve months of the best years of my life.”
Maitland told her they had all the time in the world, but did they? With a madwoman after him, she might become a widow tomorrow. The idea of someone hurting Maitland upset her. That was a good sign. Already he’d slipped into her heart. He’d proven himself to be considerate, kind, and honorable. And hewashandsome, especially when he shared one of his rare smiles.
Beatrice had given her the talk about the marriage bed. She said with a man as knowledgeable in the art of lovemaking as His Grace, her night would be pleasurable. The amount of time Beatrice and Sebastian stayed closeted in their room spoke of how magical it continued to be for them. But then, they loved each other.
Perhaps sharing his bed was the quickest way to get to know the man she’d married.
She sat at her dressing table, sipping a glass of champagne, while Susan fussed over her appearance. Marisa remembered the kiss in the alcove and the feelings he’d unleashed in her untutored body. The experience was exciting, stimulating, and maybe it was the champagne she sipped, but her courage roared to life.
“There, you’re ready. Pretty as a picture.”
“Thank you.” She dismissed Susan and sat, contemplating what to do.
Marisa didn’t like being afraid. Usually she embraced life and to hell with the consequences. She’d always been the brave one and Helen the quieter, slightly scared shadow.
She hated fear. Her parents’ arguments used to see her cowering, until one day she’d seen the effect on Helen. She’d decided that to help Helen she had to pretend not to be frightened. From that day onward she’d never shown fear.
Until tonight.
“Oh, this is ridiculous,” she said, and stood and moved quickly to the door that joined their rooms. She didn’t bother donning her wrap. She simply knocked quietly and entered his bedchamber.
Chapter 5
She halted just inside the door, surprised to see he was not in bed. He sat before the fire, reading, wearing a claret-colored velvet dressing gown. For a moment she thought him naked beneath the soft material, for she glimpsed a bit of crisp hair at the V, but then she caught a glimpse of his trousers where the gown gapped open over his crossed legs. However, his feet were bare and it made him appear more human and less like a duke. She was surprised at how intimate the scene looked, more so than if he’d been naked in his bed. It was as if they had been married for years.
He half rose from his chair. “Is everything all right, little one?” The “one” came out in a whoosh as she stepped closer to the fire and he glimpsed her attire.
“I’m sorry if I have disturbed you.”Knees, stop shaking.
“Not at all. Come sit.” He beckoned her to a chair as the book snapped shut. He stood up straight and cleared his throat. She thought for a moment that he looked even taller in bare feet. There were not many men who were more than half a foot taller than she. The deep red velvet gaped open, exposing more of his muscled chest, and he looked terribly virile. More virile than any man should look. She wondered what sort of women appealed to him. Did he prefer a certain type? Tall, short, buxom, girlish, dark, fair…perhaps he didn’t find her overly attractive and that’s why he could sit, calmly reading on his wedding night. Was he not consumed with curiosity about her and how they would be together, as she was?
Be brave. This is what you want. He is what you want.She suddenly realized her thoughts were true. As she stood, staring at the display of towering masculinity before her, her body sparked like a flint when it was scraped against stone.
With a convulsive shiver of pleasure, she glided toward him, ignoring the offer to take a seat. She stopped less than a finger’s length from his enticing chest.
“I wanted to come and bid you a proper good night.” At his raised eyebrow, she said in a tone she hoped conveyed her inner desires without her having to ask. She pushed aside his robe and walked her fingers up his bare chest. “Isn’t that what a good wife would do?”
He halted her hand’s progress. “You don’t have to do this.”
A moment of doubt crept in. He didn’t desire her? Her heart squeezed tight in her chest. She moved closer to him, and flagrantly pressed against him and felt the evidence for herself. To her relief, it felt as if he very much desired her, and she’d done nothing more than enter his room. It would have made for a lonely marriage if there was to be no passion.
