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“It is very unusual that we are just standing here.”
He laughed, and it rippled through her.
“I like that you laugh,” she said softly, then blushed for having said it aloud.
“I like that you are my wife.”
Fanny didn’t know how to reply. The possessiveness stamped in his face had a peculiar disquiet slicing through her. Was it that he only saw her as a coveted prize? Unexpectedly his head dipped, and a fleeting kiss brushed against her lips. His mouth tugged at hers, his teeth lightly grazing her lower lip.
He lifted his head and considered her for several seconds as if he were trying to ascertain what to do with her at this moment. A flash of intuition went through her. The dratted man was thinking of her carnally. She ruthlessly fought the blush, unaccountably not wanting to appear gauche. Fanny stepped around him, trying her best to remain outwardly unaffected. Inside she was burning with heat and uncertainty. This must be desire.
Sebastian proceeded with the tour of her new home. It was a palatial townhouse even more so than her brother's, boasting over a dozen rooms. The ground floor held a large and elegantly appointed drawing room, a smaller parlor stylishly decorated, a library, Sebastian's study, and an impressive ballroom that opened onto small gardens. There was a large room on the lower floors designated as an exercise room where he'd blithely informed her he boxed and fenced with his friends. She'd never heard of any house having such a room, since one could join Gentleman Jackson's boxing academy on Bond Street, but she had not commented. Fanny was so used to conforming to society's standards, she felt a startled rush of pleasure that he was so very different. It hinted at mysteries to unlock and layers of his character to discover.
The upstairs boasted seven bedrooms, and she had been pleased to see she had her private chamber. Though the conn
ecting door had loomed threateningly. But the thing that had given her the most pleasure was the music room with a masterpiece of a grand piano. Though she loved to sing, her skill at the pianoforte was lackluster at best, and she was still glad for it. He had taken her up through the servant stairs, and down to the kitchens where she had met the cook, the housekeeper and another maid and a footman. Disconcertingly they all referred to him as mister.
Now almost an hour later, Sebastian had bid her farewell, and Fanny reclined on her bed, her feelings bewildered. She truly had no notion what marriage to Sebastian Rutledge would be like. But she was now the lady of her own home, which, though beautiful, was understaffed, for she had no intention of opening her own front door whenever she was called upon by whomsoever should come calling. Everything about her marriage was strange and unfamiliar but being a lady of the house was a recognizable role, and one she would delve into as an aid to cope with her new situation. A situation whose greatest trial was just a few hours away. She was not prepared, knew not how to prepare. All Fanny could do was wait for the drumming of her racing heart to slow and for her new husband to show her what he expected of her...
The feel of the piano keys under the tips of his fingers grounded Sebastian. Then his fingers glided over the smooth ivory, and it was as if he saw the music dancing in the air as the keys came alive. Dinner had been over for almost two hours, he had taken a bath and then succumbed to the lure of the music room and a glass of brandy in the hopes of stifling the uncertainty burning through his gut.
It was laughable. He was uncertain. Why in God’s name? All he had to do was mount those damnable stairs, open the connecting door, and take his wife…his sweet, beautiful and utterly charming wife in his arms, kiss her, ravish her, and make her irrevocably his.
Except he had never been with a virgin before, or a woman as delicate as Fanny Dash…Rutledge or was it, viscountess Shaw? With a soft grunt, he sat before the grand piano and played. He allowed the music to be the balm that soothed his soul, to temper his hunger, and to transport him away from the cruel demands pummeling his body.
For two years he had resisted even thinking of her carnally, not wanting to dishonor her with his lurid imaginations, but now that she was his, wicked ideas of how he wanted to love her twisted through his mind.
He pounded away at the keys, losing his finesse, closing his eyes, seeing her as he wanted, naked, splayed wantonly atop pristine white sheets, her golden hair splayed across the pillows, her pale complexion in stark contrast, and her legs parted in welcome.
It was improbable that he should hear any noise above the music he made, but he stilled.
“You play so beautifully,” his wife said, hovering in the doorway. There was an uncertainty in her voice he perceived to be uncommon for her. He couldn’t face her, didn’t want to. Dinner had been such torture, and more tension-filled than he’d expected. There had been a knowing in her gaze, and it had disconcerted him to see fright as well.
And then awareness had settled in his gut. She anticipated their wedding night. It was his duty and his privilege to consummate their vows, yet there was an unexpected hesitation in his heart. His fingers trembled over the keys creating a discordant note. Sebastian quickly caught the note, and he played, pushing away the knowledge of how close she stood, losing himself in the music spilling from his fingertips. A few moments passed, then shock punched through him when the most beautiful voice he’d ever heard filtered on the air. It was then he turned around, unable to believe notes so powerful and pure could come from someone so delicate.
Her song ended abruptly, and her color heightened.
“That was amazing, Fanny.”
She smiled tentatively. “I simply thought I ought to share a bit of me as well.”
He hadn’t the heart to tell her he hadn’t been sharing with her when he played but had been ignoring her. Sebastian supposed one should never tell a wife or a woman they could be ignored, for as he had heard so often, ladies’ vanities should be flattered, and the prettiest of compliments should be paid.
The few lovers he had taken hadn’t required sweet words or praises. They reveled in their sensuality and would have accosted him even before dinner. They would have reached for his cock before sucking him to completion, then moving onto the main course. In his wicked fantasies, his wife always appeared the temptress, seductive, but Fanny glowed with innocence and shyness. And he did not know how to seduce her. What if he couldn’t be gentle enough? If he had any decency, he would send her away this very moment.
“Would you like a drink, Fanny?”
“Oh yes please.” Her smile wobbled, and she glanced around the room, doing her utmost not to meet his gaze.
Sebastian pushed from the bench, and moved over to the mantle, and grabbed the bottle of brandy he had taken in earlier. “Do you drink brandy?”
Her eyes widened. “I’ve never had it.”
“I confess I am uncertain if I will offend you by offering it.”
She smiled. “It relieves my heart you could be unsure about anything, my lord.” Then she lowered herself onto the sofa closest to the warm fire. She was poised on the edge of the chair, her back straight, appearing as delicate as a rose in winter. Suddenly he felt like a hulking brute.
“Fanny—”
