Page 60 of A Gentleman's Wife

The lilting melody from the music room called to her. The tinkling of piano keys sounded in the corridor, drawing her to the large double doors. She cracked them open and caught a glimpse of Thomas as he sat and played at the pianoforte. His body leaned and moved with the rhythm, his hands tracing up and down the notes. The tune he played was agonizing and sweet, the minor keys mingling together, rendering Marianne immovable. The song held such passion, resonating within her, every emotion she’d ever felt wanted to tumble out of her. Every ache, every sadness, every moment of longing or happiness, summoned by Thomas’s hand.

His playing slowed, and the song ended on a questioning note. Marianne sighed, resting her head on the door, that same puzzling within her.

Thomas turned and upon seeing her, smiled brightly. “I hope I did not disturb you.”

“Of course not. It was a beautiful number. I hope you will play more often.”

He held out his hand to her, and she took a steadying breath before lifting her feet and moving toward him. He’d removed his gloves to play, and when he took her hand, his skin meeting with hers stopped her from sitting next to him.

“As long as you play with me.”

A lifetime of doubt washed over Marianne, wave after wave crashed into her with reason and logic. He would surely play better without her. He deserved a life partner who wasn’t a burden. His future would be happier with a wife who was pretty and flawless. Yet none of this had stopped him from championing her, from kissing her, from pulling her close in his bed. Marianne didn’t often allow herself to hope for much, but when it came to Thomas, could she hope?

“What is it?” he asked, gently squeezing her hand. “You have questions in your eyes, like you bear the weight of the world.”

His closeness suddenly became too much, and it pushed her to drop his hand. “At times it feels like the weight of the world.” She swallowed hard against the emotion in her throat, moving to stand before the large mirror on the wall. She struggled to cling to her bravery, desperate for the strength to follow through.

Thomas approached her slowly from behind, not taking his eyes from hers in the reflection. “I hope you will always feel comfortable coming to me, Marianne. With your problems or your questions, or anything that troubles you.”

But why? Do you say such things out of love or obligation?she wanted to cry, but the words weighed down her tongue.

Still, he’d never made her feel like a burden, not once. He’d already told her he did not regret her, did not want the countess. And sometimes, there was a certain look in his eyes that made her hope that maybe one day Thomas could love her. She could trust him with her physical wellbeing, but could she trust him with her heart?

Marianne turned away from the mirror to face him. She looked up into his eyes, the soft, warm familiar brown that was a blanket of darkness like she’d experienced in his arms the night before. Though it didn’t calm the pounding of her heart, she gathered up the courage to speak.

“I remembered my question.”

He nodded.

“Why did you kiss me?”

Thomas froze without blinking or moving for a few moments before he cast his eyes to the floor with a clumsy smile on his lips. “Well, I… which time? I imagine it doesn’t matter…” He cleared his throat, and Marianne noticed a charming pink growing up his neck beneath his cravat.

His hand found hers, and he squeezed it gently as if seeking some forgiveness or release from his own nerves.

“I suppose a kiss is a symbol of affection between a man and a woman, and you are my wife. Though perhaps the second time, I did wish to put that viper in her place.” He paused, his thumb drawing circles on the back of her hand. “But I may have also had selfish intentions.” His eyes immediately shot to hers as if seeking her reaction. “Why do you ask?”

Her stomach filled with butterflies. Selfish intentions? Did he truly desire her?

Eliza’s voice echoed in her mind:He will not refuse you anything.

Sliding her hand from his, Marianne dared to reach up and caress his cheek, which had the briefest of stubbled growth. Its harsh texture beneath her touch was in contrast to his gentle nature, but it did not deter her.

“I’d like to try it again.”

His lips spread into a glorious smile. “By all means.”

Thomas did not immediately close the distance between them. Instead, with the patience of a saint, he waited. He gave Marianne a moment to summon all the courage she possessed before she went up on her tiptoes, where their breaths mingled again. Just when she almost backed away, his hand slid to the side of her neck, brushed his thumb across her bottom lip, and lowered his mouth to hers.

Marianne wanted to cry. His kiss was as sweet as his song. It was gentle and agonizingly perfect. His lips lingered softly before repeating the motion, stirring butterflies to life in her stomach. She wanted to live and die in this moment, anything to continue enjoying his attentions, but she suddenly grew conscious of her hand, fisted by her side. No doubt sensing her tension, and without breaking the kiss, Thomas slid his hand from her neck down her arm, then taking it and placing it up behind his neck. His hands circled around her waist, pulling her closer as he deepened the kiss.

She was swept away into a moment of finally being able to satisfy her curiosities and desires for him, of holding him and having him cling to her in return, of feeling his sturdy muscles beneath her hand. Thomas held her earnestly, urging her to step back until she met with the wall beside the mirror. He let out a sound, a groan in the back of his throat, and Marianne’s heart soared. She was not frightened by this new, unbridled side of him. She only felt encouraged, that she could inspire such passion within him, and now she wanted more. She wanted all of him.

Her mind was lost to anything but Thomas. His hands traveling over her back and holding her against him, just as she’d always wanted to be held. Her fingers spreading through the softness of his hair. His mouth slanting over her own, stealing her breath with every movement. It all pushed her to respond even more, for the way he made her feel so alive and loved and positively on fire. Never had she anticipated such an experience, much less from him. Had she judged him all wrong?

Thomas’s lips left her own, leaving her to gasp as they dragged across her jaw and found the sensitive skin of her neck. Her heart pounded, knowing her face burned from his passions, but she had no desire to stop him. “Marianne,” he mumbled against her skin.

It was only when his hand fisted the cloth of her dress at her side that she stiffened, unable to breathe.

---