He would take and I would give. He would speak and I would listen. These were the rules of marriage and I understood them. Yet it irked me that he was so immediate about his dictatorship. Already he was ordering me about. “Whatever you wish, husband.” The lastword of my reply was colored with a light note of overdone respect that bordered on mockery. And he noticed.
One of his brows lifted, and he regarded me with cool contemplation. As though entertained by my light disrespect, he seemed to be making a point of regaining control. “WhateverI wish?” he asked softly. “Were that true, wife, you would be naked and weeping with pleasure at this very moment. But I’ll give you time to adjust before I take what’s mine.”
“Wh-what?” I gasped. Oh, God, Agnes’s gossip was indeed true. My mind reeled at the thought but my body had a quite different response to his comment; I felt like our chambers had suddenly become quite warm. “What is your meaning?”
“What is my meaning?” he repeated languidly, as though puzzling over the question himself. He put on his tunic and secured another holster across his chest. He did not look at me. Once he was satisfied that his weapons were in place, he removed the lids from the trays of food. He picked up a piece of salted bacon and took a bite, taking his time to study me as though enjoying my shock. “Imeanthat you’re very clearly terrified of me.” He caught my eye. “And so you should be.” I could hear that twang of amusement in him again, the one that never ceased to not only confuse me but also rile me. Why he found every aspect of our hasty, forced marriage entertaining, I did not know.
“I’m not terrified of you,” I lied.
“Of course you are.” He carried a tray over to the bed, and sat next to where I still lay under the furs. “Yet I have reason to believe that you’re exceptionally responsive to me, and I mean to test that theory now, if you don’t object.” He picked up a small piece of bread and, with his hunting knife, spread some butter onto it. “Allow me.”
Warily, I sat up against the plush pillows and reached for the bread. What did he mean by “responsive”? I didn’t dare ask. He withdrew the offering, shaking his head slowly, his eyes never leaving mine. The light blue blaze of Kade’s irises was startlingly bright, and contrasted somehow with the swarthy features of his face. There was something entrancingly colorful about him, like his health and vigor were so potent they exaggerated the hues of him beyond the expected.
“I will feed you,” he said. Had my sisters been mistaken? Had they misunderstood? I had been told that a wife’s duty might extend to feeding her husband, if he commanded it, yet my husband clearly had other ideas. “Open your mouth.”
Hesitantly, I did as he asked of me. He placed a small piece of warm bread on my tongue. As he fed me, he spoke.
“I understand that you have led a sheltered, pampered life and that you are not used to the company of men. ’Tis not difficult to see that you have little to no idea what to expect from marriage. Being the first of your sisters to marry, perhaps you do not know the way of it.” His expression was softer now, inciting an unfamiliar sense of reassurance. He paused to feed me another small bite of bread. The bread was fresh from the ovenand the butter rich and creamy, melting on my tongue. I had never tasted anything quite so good. “I have thought about how I might ease your fear.”
He used his knife to cut a slice from an overripe pear, reaching slowly to place it in my mouth. A drop of juice from the sweet fruit ran down my chin. I licked my lips to catch the moisture and found that Kade was watching my mouth with an absorbed, almost glazed expression. With his thumb, he wiped the sticky liquid from my chin, and the contact sent a light dart of awareness, oddly, to the tips of my breasts, which tightened beneath my shift. I noticed then that the furs had dropped to my waist and I made a move to pull them up. But my husband had other ideas. He placed his large hand over mine, preempting my bid for modesty; the warmth of it gave me pause, and I slid my hand from his grasp, letting the furs lie as they were.
“In regards to sealing this marriage, I would prefer not to force you. I am therefore proposing that we wait one month, to allow you to acclimatize to your new status as my wife,” Kade said. “I would hope that you might trust me, eventually, and I make this allowance to give you time to come to terms with all that being a wife requires.”
Despite the topic being discussed, I found I was enjoying the taste of the food so much, I felt oddly subdued and compliant. Upon his encouragement, I opened my mouth again, as he fed me another slice of the sweet pear. This slice was bigger than the last, so I had to open my mouth slightly wider. His thumb lingered, brushingagainst my slippery lower lip, sending another twinge of warmth to my nipples, which hardened further against the soft cotton of my shift. A blush warmed my cheeks at the thought that he might detect my unwanted response. His lurking amusement played across his face, calming me further. I ate the fruit slowly, savoring the syrupy flavor, and I felt more relaxed at that moment than I ever had in his presence. “What happens after a month?”
“We will consummate this marriage properly, and with your willing participation. You will give me whatever I ask of you.”
I looked at his face, the roguish bristle of his day-old beard, the dangerous aura of his wicked eyes, rimmed by long, dark lashes.
“I will give you my body, in other words,” I said, “to do with as you please.”
His skewering gaze was, alarmingly, feeding the soft warmth in my breasts, which funneled deeper and lower, settling into the low pit of my stomach. “Aye, and your willingness.”
“My willingness,” I repeated.
“Aye.”
“What would I have to...do?”
“Not a damn thing, lass. I will do everything that needs doing. I ask only that you allow it.”
I watched him as he cut another slice of pear. How strange, that my battle-scarred, muscle-bound husband would make such a concession.I have thought about how I might ease your fear. I would hope that you mighttrust me.These were not at all the words I was expecting. He didn’t, after all, need my permission. He could do with me as he pleased now, and as often as he liked.
“And if I refuse?”
“Then we might attend to the consummation right now, if you prefer. ’Tis my right, after all, as your husband, to take of you anything I want. And mywant,I can assure you, at this very moment, is threatening to overtake my well developed practices of both discipline and control.”
I glared at him, and my brief sense of composure fled, replaced by stirrings of the recurring fear that crept with featherlike stealth up the tiny hairs on my arms.
“I would prefer, however,” he said, “not to force you, which is why I am proposing this month—or more, if absolutely necessary—for you to get used to me. I am confident that I can win your invitation, in time.”
Despite my unease, my body continued with its peculiar reaction.He did unspeakable things.His words, and all he referred to, had a physical, seeping effect.I will do everything that needs doing.Shockingly, my nipples were now painfully beaded and the warm throb in my stomach had spread lower, tingling and aching. My better judgment warred against his controlling, dominating manner, yet an unmistakable excitement glowed deep within me that I neither understood nor wanted there.
“You appear to be warming to the idea,” he said.
The fact that he could clearly detect my body’s reaction to him only frustrated me further. “I am warming to nothing you have to offer,” I said with hesitant defiance.
“Then why is it,” he purred, touching his thumb once again to the stickiness on my lips, the light, gliding touch causing another flare of heat deep inside me, “that your body is unfailingly receptive to me, at even the slightest hint of provocation?”
