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He didn’t believe in losing control of himself. That meant no gambling, no liquor, no smoking or other intoxicants, and he certainly couldn’t indulge too far with a lady. Any lady he did indulge with had to be gone by the next morning. That was the problem with Marina. She would not be gone by the next morning.
“I will ask Mrs. Viner to show you your room.” He backed up and headed for the door.
“James?” Marina turned, her brow creasing. “But… we were talking of your art collection…”
“Another time. I have business matters to attend to.” He exited the door and closed it behind him, hurrying to lean on the wood for a second. Closing his eyes, he attempted to clear his mind of the thoughts of her hand, those fingers tracing the air, and the sexual image it conjured, but he failed. In his mind’s eye, all he could see was that hand and picture it as it trailed down his chest, reaching somewhere much lower.
* * *
“I know he’s not coming,” Marina muttered the words to herself as she sat on the end of her bed, looking around her bedchamber.
It was a beautiful room, much finer than any she would ever think she’d have. Split into two levels, the lower was scattered with chairs, a chaise lounge, an old coffer, and a fine wardrobe. There was also a table and a writing bureau, pressed into the corner of the chamber. On the upper level was her four-posted bed where she sat now, almost hidden between the loose curtains embroidered in duck-egg blue and white thread.
The sun had long since disappeared from the windows, and the only light in the room with her came from the two candles she had placed on the tables beside her bed. She kept looking at those candles, deep in thought. Despite James’ declaration not to bed her, she couldn’t help hoping that as the marriage night drew on that he would come.
Yet he never did. The door remained firmly closed.
Huffing a little in frustration, Marina stood to her feet and untied her dressing gown, revealing her night gown. She crawled under the bed covers, longing for warmth, and delved under the blankets, thinking of the strange dinner they had shared together that evening.
He had come to dinner, just as he had promised, but he had not been there long. Explaining he had business to attend to at the club, he had left a short while later. Marina had longed to ask him more about his art collection. At first, he had joined in with the discussion with vigor before he seemed to grow abruptly aware of the time. Hurrying to put his pocket watch away in his waistcoat, he’d moved to his feet, with his plate of capon and saffron leeks unfinished, then left.
He’d wished her well for the evening though he’d barely looked back with the words.
Tempted? Clearly, he isn’t tempted, or he would at least bear a whole dinner with me.
Sadness bloomed in her chest as she leaned out of the covers. She blew each of the candles out in turn, watching as their smoke trails disappeared into the air and all became dark. Moving deep down into the covers, she pulled them over her head, trying to be as warm as possible.
As much as she tried to think of any other subject, only one thing kept coming back to her mind: James. At first, she dwelled on the day’s events, the rules he’d put in place for them, the curiosity she had about his art collection that suggested there was so much more to the man she had met, and the way he had looked at her in the carriage, declaring he was tempted by her.
The real world began to blur with her imagination, and soon enough, she was in an imagined world completely.
Marina was back in Lord Frampton’s bedchamber. She didn’t know how long she had been there, half undressed, in nothing but her chemise and corset, but she was waiting for someone to arrive, someone particular. Every few seconds she looked at the door in expectation, and he did not disappoint.
James entered the bedchamber, wearing the same midnight blue suit he had worn for their wedding.
“I thought I’d find you here.” He locked the door behind him and moved toward her. This time, there was no chance of them being disturbed, no chance of their discovery. They were completely alone, locked away from public view, to do with each other as they liked.
“You found me,” she whispered and met him in the middle of the room. When she reached up toward him, he didn’t hesitate. He bent his tall frame down to her own and kissed her. It was hardly a chaste kiss, a mere press of lips, but a passionate thing.
Marina had seen such a stolen kiss once between a maid and a footman in her father’s household. They’d had no idea she had seen them when they had stolen a moment together on the servant’s staircase.
She saw herself kissing James now in such a fashion. He angled her head to the side, exploring her mouth further, until the point she was leaning back, bent over his arm.
“We won’t be disturbed,” she whispered as they both stood straight, parting from one another.
“Good. Then we can indulge.” He peppered her neck with kisses until he found a sweet spot beneath her ear and labored on it for a second. She whimpered at the feeling, longing for more. “On the bed, Marina.”
She didn’t even think of disobeying him, for why should she? She longed to know what they could do together, and in particular, what he could show her. She backed up to the bed, crawling onto the mattress.
“No, on your back.” He flicked a finger in her direction, and she did as he asked. He began to crawl over her. She thought he would come for another kiss, but he didn’t get that far. He took hold of one of her legs and lifted it high, flicking the skirt of her gown up around her hips. There was a brush of cold hair on her exposed region before she felt his fingers delving low, deep into her folds.
There was a rush of wetness there, something she was unprepared for, before his fingers reached inside of her.
Marina gasped at the touch, amazed at the feeling of it.
“Lift your other leg,” he whispered in a soft order once again. These breathless orders were commanding, almost dominating, yet she adored it and wanted more of it. She obeyed his command, lifting her other leg so that she was completely exposed to him, so he could see everything. He pleasured her, his fingers moving fast until she could scarcely breathe cleanly. All she could think of was wanting more of this pleasure, wanting more of James.
When he stopped abruptly, she whimpered.
