Regency High Society Vol 6: The Enigmatic Rake / The Lord And The Mystery Lady / The Wagering Widow / An Unconventional Widow. Anne O'Brien

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      ‘I do not know.’ Still she could not move.

      ‘I will not do that. I promise you.’ She continued to ignore his outstretched hand.

      ‘No. It is a marriage of convenience, after all.’

      ‘You think I do not find you attractive.’

      ‘I do not know that either. But there is no reason that you should. I have looked in my mirror and I am not blind.’

      This would go nowhere. Nothing he could say would persuade her otherwise. So he must show her. But first he must overcome her reserve.

      ‘Come and sit.’ He reached to take hold of her wrist and led her to a chair beside the fireplace where the fire still burned with comforting warmth and pushed her to sit. He took a chair opposite. Far enough away not to intimidate, near enough to get her used to the idea of intimacy. ‘Tell me about your first marriage. Your husband. Your life before I knew you.’ A safe topic, he thought, that would allow her to select and discard at her own discretion, and speak without self-consciousness.

      So Sarah found herself doing exactly as he intended, her nerves gradually dissipating, her voice becoming soft and relaxed. Her hands rested easily against the cream lace of her lap. She was able to smile and meet his eyes as her memories unfolded.

      And he listened. To a picture of youth, inexperience, an escape from a troubled home, a brief but affectionate relationship with a man who was kind and loving. Joshua felt the sharp spur of jealousy as she spoke wistfully of Captain Russell, but this drained away when she told of her sad loss and then loneliness with a child and no security. She told him of her journey to New York, her life with Eleanor and Henry, her return and her first meeting with Theodora and the deep friendship that had grown between her and Judith. But all in a broad sweep. She filled in little detail, made light of much that must have caused her concern and unhappiness, and, most telling of all, made no mention of her brother Edward. As if she had cut him out of her life, out of her very existence, which was by all accounts true. But also out of her mind, which Joshua knew was not so.

      He experienced a surge of pity for the young woman who sat before him, but he would never tell her that. His instinct to protect her and give her all the contentment she had lacked in her life grew stronger than ever.

      ‘Were you happy here as my housekeeper?’ he eventually asked with a smile as her ramblings came to a halt.

      ‘Why, yes.’ She found herself amused by his question and allowed it to show. ‘Except for my employer, a difficult gentleman, who sometimes was arbitrary in his decisions.’

      He laughed. ‘Only sometimes?’ Delicate colour had returned to her cheeks, animation to her face. It pleased him that she could smile without reserve. And made the decision at last.

      ‘Come to bed, my wife. You have talked enough for one night.’ He rose to his feet.

      Sarah mirrored his actions. ‘You have told me nothing of yourself. Whilst I have so little to tell, but have burdened you with all my past history. I feel like Scheherazade and her stories to fill a thousand and one nights.’

      ‘Fortunately you do not have to tell a new tale every night and your life is not at stake, dependent on my enjoyment. Besides, the beautiful Scheherazade enchanted her royal master, did she not?’ He touched her cheek with light fingers, savouring the silken texture of her skin. ‘I shall enjoy you, my own Scheherazade. And I swear that I will do all in my life to make you happy.’ Easy words to say, he realised, easy vows to make, but it was suddenly important that he keep that promise.

      He led her to the bed. Blew out the candles, knowing instinctively that she would want the reassurance of the dark. Ever practical, Sarah drew back the fragrant linen and removed her own lace négligé. A prosaic little action, he thought, a calm acceptance of the situation as she turned to face him. Without a word he stooped to lift her, to place her against the soft pillows. Cushioned by the near dark, illuminated only be the warm glow from the dying fire, he could sense nothing but a composed acquiescence. She had married him and so would come to his bed. No fear, no denial, but neither was there any anticipation. She would give her body to him because it was a legal necessity and therefore he would require it.

      It became for him a matter of some urgency to change that.

      He slid out of his heavy robe and joined her, to do nothing more than put an arm around her and pull her close until her head rested against his shoulder, her body against his side. She did so, willingly enough, turning into him, allowing her hand to rest against the hard expanse of his chest. Of course she was not innocent of intimate relationships between man and woman. Not ignorant of the physical act or the pleasure to be experienced in a marriage bed. Yet Joshua Faringdon was aware of a distinct unease. His lips curled in a gentle self-mockery in the anonymity of the darkness because, for once in his life, he was uncertain how to proceed with this reserved but compliant woman whom he had made his wife. He let the problem drift and unravel in his mind as Sarah softened against him, her hair curling against his skin, the lingering perfume filling his senses.

      They did not know each other well. That was the problem. They had not come together out of love or even lust, but from the binding of a legal document. But why should he feel this sense of disquiet? It was her fragility of spirit, he decided, her willingness to take herself to task when she believed her actions to be wanting, her inability to believe that he should need to possess her, to desire her for herself. So he must persuade her of her desirability, that she was capable of giving him pleasure, just as she was deserving of accepting it from him. So he would give her gentleness. Kindness. A soft awakening to what he could bring her.

      So this was the task he set himself when he turned to her at last, angled his body so that he might look down at her. His kisses were whisper soft, his touch light and undemanding as he began his progress over the contours of her face with his lips. The delicate line of forehead and jaw, the softness of temple and the little hollow beneath her ear. The flutter of her pulse at the base of her throat. And he explored her lips. There had been few kisses between them in their brief association. Now he had the time to claim and explore, his tongue brushing along the edge of her lips, increasing the pressure of his mouth just a little so that hers would part to allow him to seek and enjoy. She sighed, complied, her breath fragrant against his face.

      ‘Tell me if I do anything that you do not like, that you do not wish for,’ he murmured against the delectable curve of her throat where the pulse had begun to beat more strongly. He did not think he had ever said that to any woman, presuming that he could seduce through skill and finesse. But Sarah was different. ‘You have to accept nothing at my hands that does not bring you pleasure.’

      ‘I like your kisses,’ she whispered against his chest. ‘They make me feel warm. As if I had drunk two glasses of champagne.’

      ‘Good.’ A soft laugh against her hair at her artless admission.

      So with this tacit permission, his deft fingers unfastened the ribbons to push the cream confection from her shoulders, absorbing as he did so, his hands brushing over her skin, the fact that she was warm beneath his touch and not as unrelaxed as he had feared. So far so good. Then with hands and lips he set himself to discover more fully this woman whom he had so wilfully taken as his wife, to lure her unquiet mind into tranquil pathways, allowing her to enjoy all that he could bring to her. Delighted by the feminine curves beneath his fingers, he was enticed to touch and caress, following the delicate swell and hollow of breast and waist and thigh, from soft skin to softer yet. Until she shivered against him, and turned in his arms to offer what he might wish to take.

      Of course she СКАЧАТЬ