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“I want to give myself to you, but I cannot…” she fought the blush. “I cannot do anything as wicked and improper as you’d done earlier,” she whispered, mortified at the mere memory of where he had placed his mouth. “Darcy never mentioned anything that you did earlier. She said it would be mildly pleasant…and be over quick, and you would be very mindful of my sensibilities. If we…we should remain under the covers and not be wicked, it should be all right.”
There was a long contemplative silence.
“I am gathering that you will never be comfortable with me touching and tasting you so wickedly.”
She gasped. “Of course not, how could you think it?”
Eventually, he let out a ragged breath. “I’m sorry,” he said gruffly. “I knew ladies were not fit for bedroom romps.”
Why did she feel disquiet instead of relief? Fanny hated the confusion twisting through her. His tone indicated other types of women were fashioned for the kind of loving he wanted. Mistresses? She stiffened, her heart pounding. Was this the reason gentlemen took other women to their bed? So as not to distress their delicate wives’ dignity and sensibilities? A fierce denial surged through her heart. It could not be.
“Is there a particular thing you like to do?”
That soft, curious question halted her frantic thoughts. She turned and relaxed into his embrace and rested her hand atop the hand he had encircling her. An unusual warmth filled her chest, and she smiled. “I enjoy riding so very much. To feel the wind on my face, and to feel the power and strength in my mare. Riding is one of the reasons I look forward to retiring to the country at the end of the season. It is not quite the same trotting down Rotten Row.”
“Do you expect to retire to the country?”
She frowned. “Only at the end of the season.”
“I’ve never retired to the country before unless I visit my factories in Manchester, Sheffield, and Leeds.”
She absently traced patterns over his knuckles with her fingertip. He had the hand of a worker, not delicate and soft like her brothers. “You keep the townhouse open during winter?
“Why would it be closed?”
He sounded so flummoxed she laughed lightly. “You are a lord now. When Parliament is closed, and the season has ended, men of your ilk retire to their country homes for a spot of hunting and even attend several house parties. It is more relaxing there, and I daresay we get to recover from the bustle of the season.”
“It is surprising lords, and ladies of society believe they need to rest from the leisure and debauchery of the season.” His tone was caustic. “Men of my ilk work, I have thousands of workers depending on me, I fear I do not have the luxury to retire away for months after indulging in a season of dancing and other nonsense.”
For several long moments, her mind became such a blank. “Of course.” There had been a few rumors he made no allowances for the frivolity of society, finding it nonsensical. The chasm of difference between them suddenly loomed. Their lives had been so different and would perhaps continue to be. Fanny could not envision herself wintering in London. And clearly, he would not be in the country with her. Perhaps with a mistress? She bit her lower lip, frowning. What if he should turn to another for his pleasures because she had been too silly about consummating their wedding vows? It struck her then how impetuous she had been in marrying a man who operated in a world far different from hers. And why? Because he made her tremble? Ache with no idea of how to relieve the tension that simmered in her blood?
“I recently bought a manor in Derbyshire, Selbourne Hall. It boasts over one hundred rooms and sits on over two hundred acres. It is undergoing a few repairs, but it will be ready for occupancy within the next two weeks, I was assured.”
The tight band around her chest eased, and she smiled. “Is it staffed?”
“No.”
“I will begin interviewing a housekeeper and a butler. For here, we will also need more staff.”
“We have a housekeeper and—”
She kissed him, and Fanny could not say who she startled more. It was absurd, but she needed to taste him, needed the feel of pleasure to push away the disquiet worming through her. She needed him to crave her and feel as if only her kiss, her touch, and her bed mattered. The hunger flaming through her was as shocking as it was fierce, and she slanted her lips over his with wanton greed, her breasts pressing hot and soft into his chest. Her husband groaned, and his heart jerked, and at one point, he trembled.
He shifted, once more placing her beneath his wonderful weight, taking control, gentling her aggression, transforming her kiss from marauding to sweet and passion filled. The softest of kisses peppered over the bridge of her nose, her lips, and down to her neck, then back up to her mouth. Oh. A slow heat burned through her, and soon she became lost in the wonder of his kisses. This time when he pushed her chemise to her hips and settled between her legs she did not protest. She welcomed him, feeling safe and cherished in the comfort of the darkness. A tug of longing pierced the heart of her for the illicit kisses he’d bestowed earlier, but she pushed it down, immersing herself in the way he worshiped her with gentle kisses and languid touches of his fingers. His calluses abraded her skin, rasping delightfully over her sensitized body.
His knees parted hers. The kisses went deeper, and then there was a pressure at a point between her legs where she felt empty. He pushed, and she tensed at the pain.
“Sebastian?”
“Yes, my sweet?”
“I…Should there be pain?” Her voice was thin, shaky.
“Only the first time,” he murmured. “I promise it won’t hurt ever again.”
Before she could stubbornly insist that it must not hurt at all, her husband’s hip flexed, and his manhood surged deep inside her. Fanny screamed, her shock was so great. There was an awful burning sensation where they joined, and all the pleasure that had built from his wondrous kisses had melted.
She sobbed. “Please do not move,” she whispered, fearing if he did she would be split open. Fanny could not credit women did this act, and she suspected this was why all gentlemen and society had conspired to hide this from ladies. Surely no one would agree to marriage and intimacies if they knew how painful it was.
