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And as for what would happen if he did come to her, she could not imagine. She could not get beyond kisses in her head. Kisses and that confusing, overwhelming feeling that he had created when he had caressed her in the woodland glade.
But first, she had to talk to him, begin the civilised routines of married life. Somehow her training was going to have to help her through, because this marriage that had begun on a battlefield was going to have to survive in a very different world.
Julia told herself that the man she loved could hardly be more difficult to converse with than Great Aunt Penelope. She ran through a mental list of topics. His country estate with the soup, the family home in Hertford shire with the removes. Then perhaps his interest in horse breeding during dessert. Eventually it would become easier, she was sure. She would discover his interests, tell him her own and they could begin to build their own shared reality.
She would go to the other end of the private sitting room and start embroidering her new initials on some hand kerchiefs, leaving him to his port and cheese at the dining table and then perhaps she should ask whether he had bought any lace for the ladies of his family and offer to do so in the few hours they had in Gent before the barge departed.
That all seemed very harmless, with plenty of scope for conversation. Julia fastened the diamond eardrops that Hal had given her, took a deep breath and opened the door to their sitting room.
‘…and so that is lace for your mother and Lady Verity and Lady Stanegate.’ Julia made a careful note. ‘How much may I spend?’
‘Whatever you think appropriate.’ Hal lowered himself into the chair on the other side of the cold fire place and stretched out his long legs slowly. Julia held her breath, waiting for a gasp of pain, but he seemed quite comfortable. ‘What is it?’ Bother, he had seen her watching him.
‘I cannot get used to you out of uniform,’ she said, truthfully. His valet had extricated Hal from his restricting dress uniform, and he was wearing loose trousers with his dark swallow tail coat. The formal severity of black and white showed off his blonde looks but turned him into a stranger, no longer either the rake or the officer, but a remote gentleman.
The evening had gone quite well, she thought. The conversation had not flagged, the topics they had discussed were personal without being intimate. It had all been very pleasant, except for that growing tension as the hour hand moved round the mantle clock towards ten.
Julia felt very aware of Hal and oddly aware of her own body. It was as though her skin was too tight, her breasts had grown heavy. There was an embarrassing and in sis tent pulse beating low down that made her want to shift nervously in her chair, and she was certain that Hal was purposefully averting his eyes from her neckline which felt more indecent every time she thought of it.
What on earth was the matter with her? If this was nerves, she had never felt like it before. The nearest was that long afternoon when Hal had rescued her from Major Fellowes in the forest and the after math of that short, passionate encounter.
The clock struck ten, making her jump. ‘I think I will go to bed,’ she announced, putting away the embroidery that had lain un touched for the past hour, giving Hal time to get to his feet.
She was so intent at looking at what she was doing and not hurrying him if getting up was painful, that it was a shock to find him standing so close when she finally stood up.
‘It seems a very long time since I kissed my bride,’ Hal said, tipping up her chin and smiling at her.
‘Yes,’ she agreed. In the church, with everyone watching them, the pressure of his lips had been the seal on the ceremony, part of the blessing, a sweet thing, not a carnal one.
Now the memory of how overwhelming it had been when she had kissed him as he lay in bed came flooding back. Somehow, she had to do it properly this time. Julia watched as Hal bent to her, his eyes intent on her mouth, his hand sliding round to cradle her head.
As his mouth closed over hers and he pulled her close, she suddenly realized why she had felt so strange all evening. Desire. Physical desire, all mixed up with love and nerves and apprehension. She wanted him, her body wanted him. It was going to be all right, but she had to be brave, to trust her instincts and learn to show him what she felt.
There was no painful bullion and braid against her bare skin above the edge of her silk gown, only the warmth of Hal’s body through linen and smooth broad cloth. She moved, restless, and her nipples hardened with the friction, making her gasp as he slid his tongue between her lips and tasted her, explored her mouth, teased her until she wanted to squirm against him to get closer. But should she, with the bandages beneath his shirt?
Just as she felt emboldened to try Hal lifted his head, his eyes bright in the candlelight. ‘You are very beautiful, wife. Does kissing begin to please you now?’
‘Yes,’ she admitted, wondering if that made her very wanton. Or whether wantonness would please him or disgust him. He was used to loose women, but men expected decorum from their wives. But decorum had not brought him into her bed so far.
‘I’m glad.’ He lifted his hand and brushed it gently over her mouth, tracing the shape of her lips. ‘It pleases me very much.’ He turned her, took her elbow and began to walk towards the bedroom door. ‘You must be tired. Sleep well, Julia.’
He opened the door for her, then stepped back and turned to the other door, the door to the dressing room, and left her alone.
Chapter Eighteen
‘That’s Burlington House, we’re almost there.’ Hal pointed out of the chaise window while Julia tried to take in the sights and control her jittery nerves.
There would be only the skeleton staff of servants at the town house, she reassured herself for the hundredth time. And it was not Hal’s house, even if it was his town home, so she would not be expected to give any orders to top-lofty London servants. Perhaps it was a good thing that Mama and Phillip had stopped with Uncle and Aunt Tresilian in Rochester: Phillip and a superior butler were hardly likely to make a harmonious couple.
A few days to them selves in London, the opportunity to rest and relax, to do a little shopping—to get to know each other.
Euphemisms, she chided herself sharply. Time for him to come to my bed, that’s what I mean. Oh, why doesn’t he want to make love to me? She had asked herself that over and over when the limit to Hal’s physical affection seemed to be kisses, the occasional touch on her hand. Admittedly, the kisses were passionate, but they left her feeling that she would burst into flames at any moment.
They had been travel ling of course—but from what she had heard, a man in the throes of amorous excitement was not to be put off by tiny cabins or the accommodations to be found at coaching inns. She could only conclude that she did not produce sufficient amorous excitement in him. But unless she had some practice, she was not at all certain how she was ever going to learn. And if they could not share the intimacy of the marriage bed, how were they ever going to become close enough to make this marriage work? Something had been there, so strongly between them, when he had lain with her in the grass, that day at the picnic. What was she doing wrong that he no longer wanted to caress her like that?
Or was there something she could do? Julia was not sure quite how, or whether she would dare, but she was going to find something, she vowed.
The post-chaise turned right, then stopped in front of a tall, double-fronted house. Hal jumped down and handed Julia out. ‘The knocker’s still on,’ he said, sounding puzzled. He handed notes up to the nearest postillion who stuffed the money down his heavy leather boot while his colleague unloaded their trunks.
