Page 109 of Kathryn

His pulse thudded and his gaze flickered over his bedchamber and the comforting order that Court imposed on it, drawing a sense of calm before he turned his attention to his wife’s disheveled curls. They were the sullen red of a banked fire in the low light of the single candle. Red was the color of passion and indulgence, meant to whet one’s appetite. He had never before considered just how much the color suited her. Everything about her teased his appetite.

She turned to him, her catlike eyes dark and mysterious with the light behind her. “I want to ask you something, but you must promise you will answer me with complete honesty.”

“I would never do otherwise.”

She chuckled wryly. “No, you wouldn’t, would you? Do you like having me here in your bed?”

Gerrit opened his mouth to say no, but thankfully caught himself. Instead, he considered her question. It was undeniable that she felt nice—wonderful, in fact—and he’d begun to harden just sitting beside her.

But—

She started to move away and Gerrit tightened his arm around her, holding her in place easily. “Where are you going?”

“Clearly your answer is no, so I thought I would spare you having to say it,” she said tightly, staring straight ahead rather than at Gerrit.

“Have you ever known me to refrain from speaking my mind, even when it offended you?”

Her lips parted in surprise and then twisted into a wry smile. “No.”

“Look at me, Kathryn.” She turned toward him with grudging slowness. “I am not like you—” He paused when she made a soft scoffing sound. “By that I mean I need time to ponder matters. I was giving your question the consideration it deserves. It does make me uncomfortable to have you in my bed, but most of my discomfort is probably due to the fact that I’ve never had a woman in my bed before.”

“Not—not even your first wife?”

God no! he was tempted to retort.

“No,” he said. “Not even her.”

“What—what about your mistresses?”

Gerrit was amused. “What is this fascination you have about my mistresses?”

“It is not a fascination, I just—well, you said you did not take lovers from the ton nor from your estate. Do you keep a mistress?”

Her voice was scarcely a whisper by the time she reached the last word, and her eyes, which had been fixed on his face, dropped, her blush fiery.

Just what the devil was he supposed to say to that? Well-bred men did not discuss their bits of muslin with their wives, but she had asked. To tell her it was not her concern would, he was certain, bring an end to this delicate détente between them.

“You do not need to tell me,” she said, her expression one of mortification and misery.

“I have always kept a mistress.” Her face fell, and it was like a punch to the chest. Did she really care that much?

Would you care if the situation were reversed? a snide voice asked.

A caustic blend of jealousy and rage boiled up inside him, his hands fisting at the thought of Kathryn so much as looking at another man.

“G-Gerrit?” she asked, her brow pinched with worry.

He forced his hands to unclench. “I have not had a mistress since we married. You are my only lover, Kathryn.”

Something indecipherable flared in her gaze and her lips slowly curved into a shaky smile. “I am—that is a relief.” Almost as quickly as her smile had arrived, it faded.

“What is it?” Gerrit asked.

“It is just that I do not understand how men… do that. Keep a woman just for physical satisfaction with no future objective.”

Gerrit eyed her warily. “Objective?”

She rolled her eyes at him. “Yes, objective. I was raised with the objective of marriage.”