Page 139 of A Most Forgettable Girl

Gunnilde closed her eyes and let herself enjoy the moment and the sentiment. James did not think she was forgettable. He thought she was magnificent. “When you say it started early for you, I was wondering...how early?”

“Our wedding night,” he answered at once, so promptly that Gunnilde caught her breath. “I thought it would take years for me to accustom myself to having a wife,” he carried on. “It was always my plan to send any bride to Wycliffe Hall as soon as I could do so, without causing comment. But it was nothing like that with you. And I was so shocked. Shocked at my own reaction to your lying in my bed.” He huffed out a breath of air. “I had no idea it would affect me so.”

“But you...you did not wish to consummate our marriage at the time,” she reminded him in confused accents.

He snorted. “Oh yes I did. I was in an agony that first night.”

“On our wedding night?” She was incredulous. “I had no notion!”

“I know. You were chattering away, all friendly and sweet, and I was lying there with a cock-stand, feeling guilty and damnably confused.”

“Oh, James!” she chuckled. “You poor thing!”

“I was such a fool,” he said, smoothing her hair back from her face. I knew I found you damnably attractive, but I was still trying to pretend to myself I did not.”

“And so you lay there in the dark suffering,” she tutted.

“Yes.”

“I would have taken pity on you, if you had only told me.”

“Would you?” He caught his breath.

“Oh yes.”

“What would you have done?” he asked.

“Hmm...” She appeared to consider this. “Perhaps found some way to alleviate your suffering. Let you touch me. Perhaps...touched you.”

“Touched me?” he asked, his voice raspy.

“Yes.”

“Where?”

“Wherever you wanted.”

“You did not like me then though,” he reminded her with a frown. “I would not have wanted you to feel...obligated.”

“I started to like you a little at our wedding banquet,” she admitted. “You were so...skittish and awkward that my heart quite went out to you.”

He groaned. “You felt sorry for me, you mean, that is not the same as liking.”

“You also trembled when I flung my arms about you,” she reminded him shyly. “And you were so handsome, and your body was throwing out so much heat it kept me toasty warm beside you. You...well, I did not dislike it. Maybe I did realize a little that your reaction to me was not, well, not of repulsion even from that point.”

“Repulsion? I should say not! You drove me wild.”

“Then, you were always saying things,” she said vaguely.

“What kind of things?”

“Like those times you told me the way I dressed or wore my hair would look ridiculous if I was not so pretty.”

“I thought you would grow angry every time I let something tactless like that slip,” he confessed. “But whenever you laughed or told me you meant to take it for a compliment, I realized how bloody nice you were, and my attraction to you increased tenfold.”

“Really?”

He nodded. “I told Neville the way you dressed was indecent, but it was only because of the nature of my own thoughts toward you.”