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“And? What else?”
“What else is there?”
She snaked her hand into the profusion of skirts pooling by her leg and pinched her outer thigh, trying to stop herself from speaking. But it was too late. “I’m a woman with needs.”
His eyes widened.
“What’s so difficult to believe, William? I’m tired of pretending.Sotired. Aren’t you? Tired of holding back when you’re between my thighs? Tired of pushing me away?”
“I don’twishto push you away, but I’m trying to protect you!”
“Well, you’re not! You’vehurtme. Humiliated me! Made me feel soiled for wanting more than you’re willing to give.”
“That wasn’t my aim. No, I’ve helped you stay pure.”
“Pure?!Youvisit my chamber to rut inside of me, or upon me, and you’re helping me to staypure?Youmoan.Yousweat.Youcry out!Youcome! You’re not helping me to staypure! You leave me wanting!”
He shook his head, even as his face registered surprise at her vulgarity.
“Yes!” she insisted, inflamed by his silence. “You take your pleasure and leave your wife to find her own! I do. Every time I have ever come in my entire life—and Ido—it’s by my own hand. I have to touch myself because you won’t!”
“Do you think it’seasy?Easy holding back? Easy leaving you?”
“I don’t know, but I don’t care a whit either way. It hasn’t been easy forme!You know what I’ve given of myself to have our children. Given of myself to support your parliamentary ambitions. To keep peace with your mother. To manage this household. For over ten years, I have laid on my back for you. I even used to like it. But not anymore!”
He paled. “I can see that.”
“WhywouldI?” she whispered.
“Because I’m your husband!”
“I’m your wife! That’s all I’ve ever wanted to be! Not your servant! Not your pincushion!”
He swallowed. “So I have a needle, do I?”
“That’s not what I meant! Have you heard any of what I’ve said? I was talking aboutmyself, notyou!When you would have me lie there—for as long or short as it suits you, whenever it suits you—you’re treating me like chattel! I’mnot!I’m flesh and blood! Marchioness or not, I have desires! Needs!”
“But youarea marchioness!”
“You’re a marquess! Who leaves his marchioness to fuck herself!”
Until the words left her mouth, she could not have imagined how wonderful they would feel to speak.
“God’s teeth, Beatrice!”
No longer holding back the tremor that shook her body, Bea let him see all of her—her outrage, her disappointment, her quivering. “I won’t let us pretend any longer thatIdon’t exist. You can choose not to touch me. Not to bring me pleasure. To ignore me. You cannot, however, choose who I am and whether I have needs. What I won’t tolerate any longer is you taking and not giving.”
“You’re dictating to me?”
“In this, yes.”
“That’s not your place!”
“You would take me unwillingly? Is that what you want?”
“No!”
“But you don’t want me just lying there, asleep, do you? You didn’t come that night.”
