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“Poor Bess. You had dreams of being a princess, but instead of Prince Charming, you got me.”
She glanced up at him, thinking that his face and thick fair hair were worthy of a prince. If only he were stronger, she thought poignantly. “Save your pity. I have no doubt you will be the handsomest young man at the wedding,” she assured him. If only he were older, much, much older, she wished with a resigned sigh.
That night, when they returned home from the wedding, the romance of the occasion stayed with them. When she joined Rob in bed, Bess was not surprised to feel his arms slip about her. He loved to hold her and look at her and stroke her hair. She knew it gave him untold pleasure, and it was no unpleasant thing for Bess to be so sweetly cherished by her young husband.
“Alice was a beautiful bride and Chatsworth such a perfect setting for a wedding.” Bess sighed.
“She's not nearly as beautiful as you, my darling. You make my heart sing, Bess; can you hear it?” Rob was so much taller than Bess that her cheek rested against his heart.
Her arms went about him, and she lamented his thinness. “You must try to eat more, Rob. Are you never hungry?”
“I'm hungry for you. Bess, you are still a bride, still a virgin. I want to make you my wife tonight. May I kiss you, sweetheart? I won't kiss you on the mouth, Bess, I don't want you to catch my sickness. I love you too much to ever harm you.”
Bess kissed him, very close to his mouth. She bloomed with health and was not afraid of contact with her young husband. He was both stronger and older than when they had wed, and she wondered what it would be like to lose her virginity. A tremulous smile touched the corner of her mouth as she recalled how passionately she had protected that virginity from a determined Rogue Cavendish.
Encouraged, Robert covered her face with kisses. He adored his beautiful wife with all his heart and soul and was suddenly filled with an overwhelming physical desire to love her with his body as well. For the very first time he stroked her breasts and pressed his lips worshipfully to her firm flesh. More excited than he had ever been in his life, he felt his arousal start. As it brushed against her soft thigh, Rob moaned from the wave of pure pleasure that washed over his entire body.
Dear God, at long last he was a man, and he was about to achieve his heart's desire of making a woman of the beautiful girl who was his wife. With trembling hands he lifted off her short bed shift and devoured her luscious young body with his eyes. “You are so lovely, you take my breath away—literally.”
Rob was panting heavily, and Bess knew a moment of alarm. Perhaps he wasn't strong enough to make love to her. She wondered wildly what she could do to help him. Would it be easier if she made love to him? She cursed her inexperience, wishing she had knowledge of the mysteries of sex. Then with the innate wisdom of women that had come down through the ages from Eve, she knew she could not wound his masculine pride by assuming the dominant role of aggressor. She would have to lie passive and compliant and let him do the taking. A man must slay the dragon outside his own cave, or he was not a man.
He pulled her against him, and she experienced the strange yet pleasant sensation of warm, naked flesh pressing against the length of her body. When she felt his manhood stirring against her, Bess opened her thighs in sweet invitation and was completely surprised by Rob's reaction. He violently rubbed himself against her mons, then cried out as he was overtaken by a spasm that made his entire body go rigid. With great gasps of what sounded like tormented pleasure, he spent himself, then collapsed, sprawling half upon the bed, half upon Bess.
“I'm sorry, I'm so sorry … I couldn't stop myself.”
“Rob, it's all right. It didn't hurt at all,” she assured him, but her words caused him to groan as if still in torment. Bess felt a wet stickiness on her thigh and wondered if this was the virgin blood people always whispered about. Yet how could there be blood without pain? This mating business was all very strange, she thought. Rumor had it that men were driven to it, thinking of little else. She decided that the sex act must have a greater impact on men than it did on women. Bess brushed the damp fair hair from Rob's brow and laid a tender hand upon his cheek.
“I love you, Bess; you are too kind and generous. I can't put into words the glory and the ecstasy you made me feel. Next time, sweetheart, I promise to do better.” He fell asleep within minutes, totally exhausted from his first sexual experience.
Bess lay in his arms for a long time, listening to Robert's contented breathing. Her maturing body vaguely yearned for something more. She didn't understand exactly what it was she wanted, but the sex act had somehow disappointed her. After years of whispers, innuendos, winks, and bawdy jests, Bess had expected something earth-shattering and cataclysmic. Not the mild little encounter she had shared with her husband.
An hour later a hungry, demanding mouth took total possession of her. Even in her sleep she wondered how on earth her husband had grown so muscular and strong. She pressed against the hard, powerful body of the man who held her immobile, and reveled in the desire that was building steadily in her woman's core. Her arousal became so intense, she wanted to scream. His mouth was hard and she loved it, his arms were like steel bands, holding her imprisoned against him, and she loved it.
“When I'm done with you, you'll never be the same again,” a deep voice promised, and Bess longed with all her heart that it would be so! His mouth and his powerful hands aroused her to madness. When the dark figure rose above her, poised to pierce her with his fearsome weapon, she was actually writhing in need, begging him to take her. Her blood was on fire, her breasts tingling with anticipation, her belly taut with lust, her woman's center aching to be filled with her lover's manroot. His passion fueled her passion until it consumed them and a cry was torn from her throat. Yes! Yes! This is what making love was all about! Taking all; yielding all; enjoying the exquisite pleasure to its last drop.
Suddenly, Bess awoke, the dream still starkly vivid in every erotic detail. He was there in the bed with her. She could see him and feel him and taste him. The memory of Rogue Cavendish had overtaken her so completely it felt as if he had stolen into her bed during the night. She blushed scarlet as she recalled the wildfire his touch had aroused in her. Damn you, Cavendish, damn you to hellfire!
As the summer months progressed, Robert often attempted to make love to her but always with the same unsatisfactory result. Bess dreamed more and more frequently of Rogue Cavendish. Shame and anger always followed when she awoke, and she added this to the score she would one day settle with the hated seducer.
The first winds of autumn brought a racking cough to Robert. No matter how much Bess coddled him, his condition did not improve. By October, in fact, he was worse. Rob's energy was at low ebb, and Bess knew how ill he felt sometimes. He never complained; he suffered in silence and always had a smile for her.
Robert was content to sit with a book, his other passion besides his beautiful wife. While he read the classics and poetry, Bess stayed beside him, usually embroidering. One evening in early November, as they sat before the fire, he said, “We've been married almost a year, and I want you to know it's been the happiest year of my life.”
“Rob, what a lovely thing to say, thank you. This tapestry I'm working on will mark our anniversary.” She held it up to show him the fairy-tale castle.
“Is that me on the white horse?” he asked in disbelief.
“Yes, you are the prince and I am the princess. I just have to embroider our entwined initials above the date and it will be finished.”
“You are so clever, sweetheart.”
“Rubbish, you are the clever one. You read philosophy and poetry, and you even taught yourself French and Italian.”
Suddenly, Robert was gripped by a coughing spasm that wouldn't stop. Bess's eyes widened in alarm as he began to cough up blood. When it was over she bathed him and got him into bed, then she sat beside him and talked softly in an effort to calm him and calm herself.
“I'm going to start making Christmas presents. I thought I'd embroider a pair of cushions for your mother. I've been making sketches of Barlow Hall.”
Robert watched her with haunted eyes. “We won't have another year together, Bess.”
