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Hal touched her, feeling with delight Julia’s blushes warming her breast with imagined rose-pink. Under his palms her figure was every bit as enchanting as he had fantasised. She was small-breasted, slim-hipped, yet so sweetly curved.
Speed, that was the thing, he decided, however much he wanted to linger. Hal shed his dressing gown, scooped her up and laid her on the bed, coming to lie on his left side beside her.
‘You are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.’
‘Liar,’ she mumbled. ‘You cannot see me.’
‘I have hands.’ He began to stroke, gentling his hand along hip and waist, feeling her belly tighten as he trailed his fingers across it, then up to cup her breast. She moaned, while he caressed her until her head began to move, restless, on the pillow. His right arm ached, but he hardly felt the pain, listening to her, judging the moment to part the moist folds, slip one finger into the tender heat.
Julia gasped, tried to move away, but he persisted until she was lifting herself against his hand again and again and he could part her thighs, move over her. Hal positioned himself care fully, trying to take as much weight as he could on his uninjured left leg, nudging gently.
Yes, she was his; he could enter, so slowly, so care fully she would hardly be aware. The thought of frightening her, hurting her, made him tense. He wished he could watch her face, but she would feel safer in the dark.
And then the pain ripped through his right thigh, cramping the muscles, making him jerk involuntarily, and beneath him Julia gave a little scream, arching up, rigid beneath him. He was deep within her, her involuntary movements sending waves of sensation crashing through him, beyond his control, beyond stopping. Hal felt the orgasm take him and knew, with the last rags of his control, that he could not keep his weight from bearing down on her.
Chapter Nineteen
Julia blinked away the tears that filled her eyes. The pain had been every bit as bad as she had feared, and so sudden, but it was gone now and Hal was part of her, filling her. Although she could hardly breathe and she sensed, rather than felt, a deep soreness, that did not matter: the intimacy of their joining was breathtaking, overwhelming.
Was this what would have happened in the glade if Hal had not stopped so abruptly? Was the fear of hurting her what had been keeping him from her all along?
She was not quite sure what was happening now, or what to expect next, so she just enjoyed holding on to Hal, feeling the breadth of his shoulders under her palms, the heat of his skin, the movement of muscles, and trying to get used to the sensation of him within her. His face was buried in her shoulder, his heart was pounding and he seemed to have gone limp in every muscle, so she concentrated on lying still, her cheek pressed against his hair.
Then Hal moved with an ungainly jerk for someone who was usually so con trolled, and he rolled off her body, leaving her feeling bereft. He was lighting the candle, she realized. When he lay back on the pillows beside her and she saw his face, it was worse. Whatever had just happened, it had not made him happy.
‘Hell,’ Hal said bleakly, staring at the ceiling. ‘Hell, I am so sorry.’
‘I do not under stand,’ she faltered, wondering if it was her fault.
‘I intended to go slowly, gently, and this bloody leg gave way and I lost control.’ He turned his head to look at her. ‘I hurt you, didn’t I?’
‘A bit,’ she admitted. ‘But it always does, doesn’t it? The first time.’
‘It doesn’t have to be too bad unless a blundering cripple with no self-control makes a mess of it.’
‘Oh, your leg!’ She flinched at his description of himself, but there was no point in arguing about that now. ‘Have you opened up the wound?’ Heedless of her nakedness, Julia sat up and reached for the sheet that was tangled about his waist, trying to look at his bandaged thigh.
‘Leave it!’ She jerked back, wincing at his tone. ‘I’m sorry. It is fine,’ he said more gently, sitting up. ‘You’ll want to go back to your own bed.’
Julia opened her mouth to deny it, tell him she wanted to stay, to be held in his arms, but Hal reached for his robe, shrugged it on and then slid out of the bed to limp over to the wash stand. He obviously did not want her to remain, so perhaps that was not something a wife should do. Or perhaps he did not want her to cling or to show affection. She was about to get up when he came back with a towel and a cloth.
‘Here.’ He was pale around the lips and eyes. ‘There’s blood.’ He turned his back while she dabbed and winced.
‘The sheet—’ The servants would see, would know.
‘They will think it is mine,’ Hal said. ‘I will ring for Langham, have him redress my leg. The wound has opened a little. There is no need for embarrassment.’
‘No, of course not.’ Julia slid the night gown over her head and went to the door. ‘Good night, Hal.’
Julia sat up in bed, fingers curled around the luxury of a cup of hot chocolate, and thought about the previous night. She was no longer a virgin, but that was about the only positive thing, that and those few moments where she had held Hal in her arms and felt the tenderness welling through her.
Instead of a husband who had not wanted to make love to her, she now had one who was blaming himself for hurting her. He had most certainly not
been filled with the desire to cradle her in his arms afterwards, as she had hoped he would, but perhaps men did not like to do that. Her body and her heart ached for that comfort. This was not the marriage she had hoped for, one of sharing and confidences.
She needed advice. The image of Nell Carlow appeared, with the memory of her warm voice and the friendly smile in her hazel eyes. She was so very obviously happy with her husband, and that happiness seemed to overflow into a need for both of them to touch all the time, however fleetingly. Nell, she was sure, would talk to her.
To her relief, the break fast room held only Verity and Lady Narborough. ‘Lady Stanegate mentioned a dress maker and some milliners last night,’ Julia remarked when she was seated in front of the poached egg and toast that were all she thought she had appetite for. ‘Would she mind if I called to ask her more about them, do you think?’
