Page 134 of The Language of Love

Ten minutes later—less conflicted, although no less unhappy—Henry entered his wife’s room to find her reading in bed.

She was wearing one of the nightgowns he’d ordered for her, a creamy white silk that was almost the same shade as her pale skin.

Henry could see the shadows of her nipples through the lace.

She smiled and set aside her book, welcoming him to her bed even though she loved another man.

Somehow knowing that she made the best of her situation soured, rather than pleased, him.

For once, he didn’t want to look at her while he took her. Instead, he snuffed the candles on his way to the bed, until only the lamp she’d been reading by remained. He reached beneath the glass shade and trimmed the wick, casting the room into darkness.

Once he’d slipped off his robe, he slid beneath the blanket. Rather than remove her nightgown, as he usually did, he lifted the hem until he’d bared her hips. And then he lowered his mouth over her sex and took his fill of her.

Henry adored the taste of her and reveled in the way her body responded to his touches. He made sure she experienced at least two orgasms before he got to his knees, pushed her thighs wide, and entered her slowly, relishing the sweet sensation of stretching her, making her feel every inch of his cock.

He was in no hurry for his pleasure and took his time, making it good for her by angling his hips in such a way that he brought her to climax once more before he increased the power and speed of his thrusts, riding her hard before he surrendered to his need and emptied himself deep inside her.

He allowed himself to rest a moment, to gather his strength, and then withdrew from her body and rolled onto his back.

The only sound in the room was their heavy breathing.

When he finally pushed himself up and swung his feet to the floor, she said, “Where are you going?”

“I’m going to sleep in my chambers.” He felt about for his robe on the floor and slipped it on in the darkness.

“Are you displeased with me, Henry?”

“No,” he lied. “I just haven’t been sleeping well.” That was true enough. “I shall get more rest in my bed.” Yet another lie.

“Oh. I see.” She sounded so small and so… forlorn that he almost relented. But then he remembered she was in love with Avington.

No, this would be best. For both of them.

He could see the faintest outline of her as the moonlight poured over her bed. He leaned over and kissed her temple. “Thank you, Annis. Sleep well.”

Not until Henry was slipping off his robe and getting between the icy sheets did he realize that she’d never responded.