Page 73 of Snowbound Surrender
He tucked a thick lock her hair behind her ear and trailed his fingers down her neck to her bare shoulder. “What happened?”
She drew him to the arm chair and pushed him to sit. He tried to protest, but before he could rise, she plopped down in his lap and snuggled into his chest. Then she proceeded to tell him everything. Even details she had kept from her sister because of her shame and embarrassment.
“Your late husband was an ass, but how were you to know that when he was courting you?” he asked with a sympathy and kindness she had not been able to spare for herself.
“My father could only see his gentlemanly mask and station and encouraged the match. I saw glimpses of his true nature, but the banns had been read. It felt too hard to stop the wedding at that point.” For the first time, she didn’t bear the blame shetypically heaped on herself for her naivety and cowardice. “The whorehouse madam told me if I had just sucked my husband’s cock more that perhaps he would not have strayed. Do you think that is true?”
Callum’s mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water fighting for its life. “That is outrageous!”
“The question or the act?” Eleanor had to know if her lack of experience had caused James to visit whores. “Is sucking cock something only whores do?”
“I can’t believe I am having this discussion with you,” he muttered and then let out a big sigh. “As you know, I have never been married, but that particular act is not something only shared with whores. My opinion—and hope—is that the bedroom of a husband and wife is playful and pleasurable.”
“And you find getting your cock sucked pleasurable?” She pushed off his chest enough to see his face. His eyes were closed and his cheeks red. “Are you embarrassed by my questions?”
He opened his eyes and met her gaze. “Yes, I’m embarrassed. This is not something I’ve discussed with a lady. Or anyone for that matter.” He huffed out a laugh.
Eleanor snapped and pointed at him. “That’s the issue, isn’t it? No one discusses such matters. I had no idea what is typical of the marriage bed or what was expected of me.”
“Your mother?—”
“Died at my birth. Charlotte had married, but she told me nothing on my last visit. My stepmother is a dear, but she is very proper. There was no one else.” She would be discussing her sister’s reticence the next time they had a moment alone.
“If your husband was any sort of man, he should have introduced you to the pleasures of the marriage bed. Especially as he was more experienced than you.”
Was that true? Was the deficiency not hers but James’s? “Is there pleasure to be found in bed? That was not my experience.”
His mouth firmed. “What was your experience?”
“I would wait in the dark under the covers. James would come to me late and reeking of the blue ruin. He would push my nightclothes to my waist, unbutton his trousers, and then…” The memory of the pinching pain she would feel as he rammed inside of her was a wound that had scabbed over but not fully healed. “It was uncomfortable, but usually over quickly. Then he would leave me.”
Callum looked aghast. “I would wring his neck if he were still alive. You were ill-used, Eleanor. I’m sorry. A marriage bed—anybed—shared by a man and woman should be filled with pleasure and play.”
Callum talked of pleasure, not duty. It was startling. “Will you remedy my situation?”
The request popped out before she had a chance to consider the implications. But there weren’t any, were there? She was a widow now and could take a lover. Anyway, Warlock was not London. There was no ton to shun her here.
“What exactly is your situation?” There was trepidation in his voice.
“I am free. You are free.” She had a sudden thought that tensed her. “You are free, aren’t you? You are not promised to another?”
“There is no other.” Was that regret or sadness or resignation in his voice?
“Then teach me.”
“Teach you what exactly?” Now his tone was somewhere between shocked and bemused.
“Teach me how to please you. Perhaps if I had known what to do, my husband would not have visited whores.”
He wrapped his hand around her nape, and it felt like a branding. She allowed her head to fall back slightly into his support.
“I’ve met men like your late husband. He was a cad. Nothing you could have done would have kept him solely in your bed.”
He spoke aloud what she had wondered about countless times. At first, she had blamed herself for his transgressions. If she had been prettier or more worldly or more of a lady orlessof a lady, James might not have strayed. Callum helped clear her doubts.
The fact was James had not been a good man, much less a gentleman, no matter his mention in Debrett’s.
With this acceptance came peace, but also another question. Should she be embarrassed she was practically begging Callum to ravish her? She wasn’t. Why not? Because she should be. Yet she could not feel a hint of her usual inhibitions.
