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CHAPTERTHIRTEEN
Edwina laid wide awake in her bed. She survived another awkward supper with the Duke, making polite conversation with him as though he was a stranger. She had gathered a list of topics that were off-limits, much longer than the items he listed in their first meeting. He had told her not to ask him about himself, his family, or his scars which seemed to eliminate almost anything else she could ask about.
She stared at the door separating their suites. The door continued to remain unlocked, a welcome for the Duke whenever he felt like finally consummating their marriage. After supper, though, she had no hope that he might finally decide to. He remained cold toward her, talking more to the servants as they served dinner than he did with her.
So, she retired to her room, claiming to be tired, even though she just felt exhausted trying to remain polite in his presence. Lizbeth helped her to dress for bed, but this time, she did not bother with the administration of perfume and a nice shift, assuming she would be alone again. She read in bed for a while, trying to rest her mind enough to sleep.
Almost ready to finally snuff out her candle, she froze as the doorknob turned, and the door creaked open. She sat up in bed, her body warning her of an intruder, but she felt sure that the only person who could, or would, use the door would be the Duke himself. As he stepped into the room quietly, she noticed that he wore nothing over his shirt, and his legs were bare under his trousers, absent of stockings or shoes. Her breath came quickly, guessing at his intentions.
“What are you doing?” she breathed, watching him come closer to her. He stopped at the end of the bed.
“You reminded me of my husbandly duties today,” he replied.
“You said you wanted to wait until we were comfortable,” she protested. “Did something change today?”
Without responding, he came around her bed to the candle and snuffed it out. She opened her mouth to demand an answer, but as the room fell into darkness, she tried to stifle a gasp, her heart racing in her chest. The only thing she could make out was the white of his mask and the pale cream of his shirt.
Continuing to stand by the bed, he began to work down the buttons of his shirt, revealing the dark hair scattered across his broad chest. As he shrugged the shirt over his shoulders, she noted thick scars, like splattered paint, across the right side of his chest and ribs.
She clutched the bed linen close to her chest but did not fight the urge she felt to keep watching him undress before her. Despite the mask and the scars, he was incredibly handsome. He had an athletic build that spoke of the time he hinted at spending in the army. His shoulders were broad and strong, and the muscles in his chest flexed as he reached for his trousers. She wondered what he would feel like if she were to run her hands over his skin.
“You talked of how a man might show his wife pleasures,” he told her in a low voice. “And you told me that if I wanted to share your bed to fulfill our duty to produce an heir, I needed to act like a proper husband.”
She continued to watch him wide-eyed, her heart hammering in her throat. As fearful as she was, her curiosity toward him won over. She knew that she could tell him to leave, and if she did, he would leave. As he dropped his pants from his waist and started to climb across the bed, she sucked in her breath, seeing him, or any man, completely naked for the first time. He crawled over her legs, closer to her face, and she laid back on her pillows, allowing him to hover over her.
“Shall I educate you on these things that you demand?” he whispered, his mouth only an inch above hers. Her skin felt tingly all over, and a warmth pooled between her legs. When she did not respond, he asked, “Are you afraid?”
“Yes. Yes to both,” she breathed, nodding her head as she met his gaze. She was afraid, but only because she did not know what to expect or what he meant, and she wanted to conquer her fear of the unknown. As she stared into his eyes, though, she felt as though she could trust him and that she could be safe with him.
Taking a shaky breath, she whispered, “But I want you to show me.”
His eyes closed briefly, and she thought she felt him shudder in response to her whisper. With his face so close, despite the darkness, she could see the scars around his eye, how they broke up his eyebrows and sunk into his skin. His eyes sought hers, reading her as though he looked for permission in her body language or perhaps wondering if she would be repulsed by him.
“You asked me at first to be gentle with you, that first day in my study,” he whispered, apparently satisfied with what he found, and he lowered his mouth to her neck. She shuddered as the warmth of his mouth rose gooseflesh across her skin. “So, I will be gentle, for now, and show you there is nothing to be afraid of.”
She closed her eyes and gasped as he took her earlobe between his teeth, flicking his tongue across her skin. Rolling her head to the side, she allowed him room to kiss her neck beneath her ear. One of his hands moved to her ribs, sliding up to cup her breasts. His fingers found the tip of her breast and squeezed the tender flesh through her shift, causing her to gasp again.
Turning her head back to him, her lips brushed his. He hesitated just a moment before slowly taking her mouth with his own, his lips sliding against hers as his tongue sought hers. He lowered his body on top of hers and took her hands in his. Raising her arms above her head, he settled himself against her, spreading her legs with his knees to nestle himself on top of her hips.
The fire between her legs grew, feeling the hardness of him pressing against her. Instinctually, she pressed against him, raising her hips to his, her thin shift the only barrier between their bodies. Her basic knowledge told her that if she just raised up her shift, and spread her legs further, she could allow him inside her. She reached for the hem.
“Not yet,” he whispered, his voice a low, gentle growl as he broke their kiss.
She did not understand why he would want to wait, but she tried to catch her breath. Her body felt tight like a bowstring, ready to be released. He raised himself off of her, grasped the hem of her shift, and pulled it over her head. Surely, she thought, he would want to finally couple with her. But, he kneeled between her knees and stared at her, causing her to feel self-conscious.
“Do you approve of your new bride?” she whispered, struggling with the urge to cover her nakedness. His heated gaze raked over her body, and a smile tugged at his lips.
“Can you not tell?” he asked with a laugh.
She shook her head, again, confused and nervous by not understanding. He crawled from between her legs, coming to lay beside her, facing her. Trailing his fingers down her breasts to her ribs, and further, between her legs, he gently caressed the pale down on her mound.
“How can I tell?” she asked.
Taking her hand, he placed her fingers around his member. “This,” he whispered. He smoothed her fingers around him, closing his eyes with a sigh. The skin felt so cool and soft beneath her fingers. She squeezed her hand around him gently, but he tightened his hold on her. Slowly, he moved her hand up and down him but only for a moment.
“It is not normally like this?” she asked.
He laughed, collapsing on her shoulder. Her cheeks flushed red, embarrassed by her lack of knowledge, and she withdrew her hand. “No,” he explained, continuing to laugh. “It is only like this when I am aroused, when I want to lay with a woman. Otherwise, you would always notice a bulge in my trousers.”
