“I’m fine,” he grunted.
“If you say so.” But he didn’t look fine. There were lines of strain at the corners of his eyes and his mouth was a rigid line of pain. She noted that with each bump or sway of the carriage, he suppressed a wince.
Oh, why must he be so maddeningly stoic? She knew he was in pain. He should have stayed home tonight and rested, not gone to the damn ball. At least they had left relatively early. It was just past midnight, but the ball would go on until the wee hours of the morning.
They had all been tired after the day at Cremorne Gardens yesterday, as evidenced by Elizabeth falling asleep and her noticeable lack of complaint when they had announced it was time to leave.
They made it back to the house without further conversation. He was obviously in a mood and she was too tired to argue. Now in the foyer, they handed their coats and shawls to the sleepy footman posted at the entrance and Elizabeth climbed the stairs sleepily after a muttered good night.
She was about to do the same when she felt the heat of his presence at her back. A frisson of awareness ran through her neck and arms as he leaned close and murmured by her head, so close she could feel his warm breath on her ear.
“I’ll be in your room in a few minutes.”
Her belly tightened and desire drove away her sleepiness. But he was in pain. Surely he didn’t want... She turned, her breath faltering at his nearness. His chest was level with her nose, and he was so close that her breasts nearly brushed against his coat.
“But... I thought you were in pain.”
He smiled without humor, bending stiffly a little closer to her. “Then you will have to do most of the work, won’t you?”
And with that, he turned and started climbing the stairs, leaving her befuddled, staring after him. Why did he want to visit her bed tonight, when he so obviously did not feel well enough? With sudden clarity, it dawned on her. He always visited her after a ball.
Was it out of possessiveness? Or just mere coincidence? She didn’t know, but given his present mood, she didn’t think the reasons were too benign. She climbed the steps slowly with a worried frown.
Yes, that was exactly what he was doing. And it had only gotten worse with each ball they attended. She noted with annoyance how he never danced, barely talked. Preferring to skulk around the edges of the ballrooms watching Elizabeth and herself, like a dog watching over its bone.
What did he want from her? If he wanted to prove he was her man, he had. She never refused him, on the contrary, always received him with warm affection. She did anything he asked of her in the bedroom, all while maintaining proper decorum and modesty. She demanded nothing, never complained. Most men would be content with that. Wouldn’t they? After all, she was saving him the chore of trying to please her. She was giving him permission to find his pleasure without worrying about hers.
But Colin wasn't happy. And the knowledge sat heavy in her heart. Maybe he was regretting his hasty decision to marry her? There was another possibility. Could his ill humor be because of jealousy?
Terror rose from her stomach to her heart like a scalding wave. She grabbed the banister until her knuckles turned white. How could she not have seen it before?
He was so different from her first husband in temperament that she had not seen the similarities in their behavior.
The same churlish demeanor and cutting remarks. The possessive attitude. Did he think she was encouraging other men? She had to be friendly and charming to introduce Elizabeth to society and help her navigate her season. But she would never seek male attention. He knew that. Didn’t he?
He had been so kind, so level-headed, so gentle, that she had thought he didn’t have a capacity for violence. He had disproved that yesterday. He had been ruthless and effective in dealing with their assailants. She should have learned after her disastrous first marriage that all males have it in them.
If he was jealous, how long before he started blaming her for the male attention she received? How long before he started resenting her and hating her? Oh God! She couldn’t deal with this again. Especially not from Colin.
Perhaps the marriage had been a mistake. He certainly seemed to regret it. The warm, kind, protective gentleman she had known had vanished the minute they had arrived in London, and in its place was this brooding, surly,jealousman. Pray to God he didn’t turn violent as well. She shuddered.
Or maybe this was his normal disposition, and the kindness and charm had all been a facade to win her over. No. It couldn’t be. She didn’t know him long, but the display of caring had been frequent and casually delivered, as if it was a commonplace thing to him.
In her dressing room, her maid helped her disrobe and brush her hair. Then, clad only in her nightgown, she entered her dark bedroom.
Not even a candle was lit this time. Lost in her thoughts, she climbed into the bed and yelped in surprise when her fingers touched naked male flesh. She hadn’t seen him because the light from the fire did not reach the inside of the canopied bed. Her husband was merely a dark shadow.
Grasping her waist, he started gathering her nightgown.
“Remove this,” he ordered in a gravelly voice.
She complied immediately because, really, it is what she wanted too. She had noticed he was completely naked, and the knowledge set fire to her veins. Her earlier misgivings dissolved in a wave of heat. This was Colin. He would never hurt her. And she didn’t want to hurt him, either. If he was insecure about her devotion, she wanted to reassure him.
It was the first time he was completely bare in her presence. Well, except the time at the stream, but that didn’t count, for he hadn’t known she was there, and she had not been able to touch.
Now she could. Emboldened by the almost absolute darkness, she climbed on the bed. Kneeling between his spread legs, she ran her hands up his thighs, feeling the corded strength of the muscles. When she reached the juncture of his thighs, she touched his member. Already rock hard and erect. She grasped it with both hands, squeezing softly, and he groaned. But she didn’t linger. Not yet. She had more to explore of his magnificent physique.
Her hands continued to roam eagerly. Up his belly, learning every ridge and valley. Over his chest, sweeping outward to brush against flat male nipples. He gasped, but still made no move to stop her, direct her or take control of this, as he was wont to do. He was lounging, accepting under her hands, his body a sacrifice to her desire, allowing her to play and explore. She smiled, enjoying the feel of having this big, powerful man under her.
