Follow Your Heart

by Ruth Kaufman

  “Certain skills can be learned. But talent is a gift.”

  Joanna looked up at that, a flash of green.

  His heart pounded. He couldn’t talk about glass forever. As surely as their strange wedding night hovered in his mind, it must in Joanna’s. Yet she didn’t reveal petulance, anger or fear as many other women might’ve done.

  Coward. How could he, a grown man, six feet tall and strong enough to battle several men at once, continue to avoid his new wife? Never had he feared anything as much as he feared hurting her. He’d have to find strength enough for both of them to face their future.

  Adrian couldn’t speak of their wedding night. But he wanted her forgiveness and would win it with his kisses, his body, his passion. He felt strangely like an untried youth. He hadn’t wooed a woman before. Women had come and gone in his life, willingly offering their bodies with the mutual goal of finding release. He hadn’t wanted anything more.

  With a slight smile, he took her paintbrush from her hand. He set it on the table, careful not to get paint on anything.

  He slowly wrapped one of her curls around his finger again and again, letting the strand draw him to her like a lure. His face was inches from hers when her lips parted. His smile widened. He hadn’t scared her away.

  Releasing the curl, he slid his hands against her scalp, again reveling in the softness of her hair. He tipped her head back and kissed her. Gently at first, then with determination. He was already fully aroused, as if his body remembered where they’d left off so many days ago.

  He couldn’t wait to consummate this marriage.

  Joanna wasn’t kissing him back with the same fervor she had on their wedding night, but he hoped he could reawaken her passion. The memory of her kisses had haunted him all week, beckoning like a siren’s song.

  “Come,” He held out his hand.

  Together they walked to his room. Once there, he kissed her and kissed her as best he knew how, but she didn’t respond with kisses of her own. Where were the enticing sighs he remembered? Her hands rested on his shoulders, but didn’t explore or caress. She stood like a woman doing her duty, as proscribed by contract. Had he imagined her enthusiastic response? Despite their restrictive agreement, he wanted her to want him.

  Gently he undid her ties and undressed her. He ran his hands over her breasts, her arms, again admiring her beauty. Desire pulsed as she stood before him, remote as a marble statue, cool and composed, looking off into the distance.

  Should he think of eloquent words to praise her beauty? Such talk didn’t come naturally to him, but might help relax her. Maybe she had need of a cup of wine? He was willing to try almost anything to make Joanna return his desire. Anything but telling her the truth of why he’d left her on their wedding night.

  Adrian turned to remove his clothing, draping it over a small trunk. He took his time, hoping to give her time to adjust. When he turned back to Joanna, she lay flat on her back on the bed, her arms and legs rigidly outstretched. She looked for all the world like a martyr awaiting torture.

  What had he done to her?

  Chapter 11

  As Adrian undressed, Joanna climbed onto the bed. Carefully she stretched out her arms and legs. If her eagerness had turned him away before, surely her emotionless acceptance of his body would please him.

  This had to be the way.

  Not kissing him back as she wanted to do seemed wrong. Not running her hands over his shoulders, exploring his body seemed unnatural. She’d squeezed her fingers tight to keep from running them through his hair. Kissing him on their wedding night had pleasured her. This self-restraint didn’t. But providing an heir was her duty. Pleasure and enjoyment were not part of their bargain.

  The night air raised gooseflesh, but she didn’t dare cover herself. She felt uncomfortably exposed and awkward. Fighting the urge to close her eyes, she concentrated on the feel of the worn linen beneath her. She wasn’t afraid of what lay ahead.

  When he turned, an expression of horror crossed his face.

  “My God, Joanna, no! Not like this.”

  Embarrassment smacked her. Wrong again. Tears filled her eyes. She couldn’t remain another minute and subject herself to this humiliating misery. Barely containing a sob, she scrambled off the bed, grabbed her gown and ran out of his room into hers. She slammed the door, pushed the bolt into place, then slid to the floor, oblivious to the harsh wood scraping her bare skin. Her week of waiting and hoping had been for naught. She’d failed him, again.

  What if he wanted to end their marriage?

  “Joanna, let me in,” Adrian said, his voice low and measured.

  The door shook as he knocked. She was so mortified she couldn’t speak. How was she supposed to know what to do?

  “Joanna?”

  She stayed motionless, her gown crushed in her hand, until the cold floor permeated her bones. Slowly she crawled to her bed and climbed in. She drew the covers over her head.

  Adrian called to her a few more times. Then there was silence.

  How could she face him again?

  Adrian paced outside Joanna’s door. He felt disgusted with himself for not handling the situation better. He’d thought he could make her want him with kisses and caresses alone, had thought his touch would convey his desire, but he’d failed miserably. His heart filled with dread as he realized what he’d have to do.

  He would have to talk to her, really talk.

  He was going to have to reveal something of himself to make things right between them. He wanted that more than anything, even more than he desired her and the blazing release he knew they could share.

  What if he couldn’t bring himself to do it? What could he possibly say? If he didn’t find the courage to resolve this tonight, she might be averse to making love for the rest of her days. Instead of a willing lover, he’d have an uninterested, obligation-filling partner.

  He put his hand on the door, as if the portal could somehow connect him to her and her thoughts. Far better to have this discussion with some clothing on. Adrian hurried back to his room and pulled on his robe, then returned to her door and took a deep breath for fortification. And another.

  “Joanna, I need to talk to you,” he said. “Please let me in.”

  He put his ear to the door but heard nothing.

  “Joanna, please. I would very much like to see you.”

  The bar clanged against the wood and the door slowly opened. A tear-streaked Joanna stood before him. She’d put her gown back on, but it slipped off her shoulders. He appreciated the smooth expanse of skin she displayed.

  Panic hit Adrian as he looked at her pale, beautiful face. He didn’t have the words. He needed more time. His left hand clenched as he thought about what to say. Soon his wrist would be fine, proof that wounds could heal, even grave ones. But the only way to heal the breach he’d created was through honesty. As much as he dared give.

  “We must talk. About our wedding night. And tonight,” he began.

  Her gaze dropped to her hands. She scratched at a smudge of paint on her thumb. Her hair fell forward, blocking her face.

  “I’m sorry if I displeased you,” she whispered.

  Shock and dismay coursed through him. It hadn’t occurred to him Joanna would think their mishaps her fault. And he’d let her suffer for over a week. Adrian felt worse than he had since he left her alone. His attempts at creating an impersonal marriage were hurting them both.

  Gently he pushed her hair back and wrapped his fingers in her curls. The anguish in her eyes stabbed him like a dagger.

  “Ah, Joanna. I’m the one who is sorry. It was me, all me,” he began. “You see, from time to time, I have…severe, debilitating headaches. They come on suddenly and can last for days. When I get such a headache, I have to be alone,” Adrian explained. He stroked her hair. “It was pure mischance that one came on during what should’ve been a special time for you. For both of us. But I felt so ill, there was nothing I could do but flee. My head pounded so, I couldn’t e
ven speak.” That was true.

  “Oh,” she said, her voice small. “I’d have tried to help had I known. I thought you thought I was too eager.”

  “Never that.” Understanding dawned, but made him feel worse yet. “So that’s why tonight you—”

  “Then I thought because of our contract that bed sport should be, well, less emotional,” she said. “I didn’t know what else to do. I didn’t know how we should be.”

  Adrian hung his head. How his demands had wounded his bride. Could he make this up to her?

  “Bed sport can be however we want it to be,” he said. “We should enjoy lovemaking… together. It would please me very much if you were eager.”

  He paused, leaning closer to her, inhaling her rose scent. He wanted her still.

  “Oh. That’s good. But I wish I knew what to do.”

  He whispered into her ear, “Do whatever you feel like doing. Then both of us shall find pleasure.”

  He moved even closer. She hadn’t pushed him away. Yet.

  “I can never change your memory of our wedding night, but perhaps we can create new memories,” he whispered. “Will you let me try?”

  Joanna’s eyes filled with tears. The pain in Adrian’s gut stabbed him again. He’d made her cry. How many more times would she suffer because of his affliction?

  One shining droplet rolled down her cheek. He wiped it away with a flick of his thumb.

  She didn’t answer.

  A new fear gripped him. What if she’d given up on him?

  As another tear followed the first, she whispered, “Yes.”

  Joanna couldn’t stop her tears of relief, though they were embarrassing. Adrian didn’t blame her for their wedding night or their aborted attempt this night. He’d apologized, even revealed something about himself that was outside the purview of their agreement. Though Joanna sensed he’d left a huge piece out, enough of the puzzle had fallen into place to reassure her for the moment.

  Adrian was here.

  He wanted to be with her again. He wanted her. Nothing else mattered.

  Despite his encouragement, a small part of her remained nervous. The rest surged with anticipation as his hands warmed the sides of her head. She liked the feel of his fingers threaded through her hair, as though he couldn’t bear to let her go. As though she meant something to him. Something special.

  “Yes,” she whispered again.

  He dropped his head, briefly closing his eyes. Had he feared she’d refuse him? Then he met her gaze, his brilliant blue eyes holding her a willing prisoner. A smile raised his lips as he slid his hands behind her head and gently drew her closer. Her whole body tingled.

  Joanna clasped her hands behind his neck. For an endless moment, they gazed at each other.

  “Joanna,” he breathed, “I’ll not disappoint you this time. That I promise.”

  Ever so slowly, he bent his head toward hers until their mouths almost touched. At last he kissed her, his mouth warm and reassuring. Joanna collapsed against his chest and Adrian drew her to him. He deepened the kiss as his tongue found hers.

  Desire swirled through her. She needed to feel him, feel his skin, against her.

  “Do what you feel like doing,” he’d advised. And so she would. Without breaking the kiss, she felt for his belt and untied it. He groaned as she slipped her hands inside his robe, her cool fingers meeting his warm skin.

  The robe had to come off. Now. No barriers between them.

  She hadn’t expected her body to ache for his touch, but she welcomed the yearning building within her.

  “Off,” she whispered, surprised by her own boldness. But Adrian complied with a sensual smile, moving away to slide out of his clothing. The candlelight delineated the contours of his chest.

  He was beautiful. No other word described him. Wearing only his hose, he stood before her. She could see the bulge between his legs, and reveled in the fact that he desired her.

  Adrian lifted her and carried her to the bed. The intensity of his passion fueled hers.

  He set her on her feet and kissed her again. His hands slid up and down her spine, leaving tremors of excitement in their wake. As his tongue delved into her mouth, he pulled her against him so she felt every inch of his hard body. Joanna kissed him back, conveying her desire by matching his fervor.

  Adrian broke the kiss. His gaze seemed hot enough to sear her. Before she could fully admire his muscular arms and well-defined chest, he reached behind her to undo the loose laces on her gown. Slowly he worked them free, rubbing himself against her. She couldn’t wait to be rid of the fabric separating her skin from his. After sliding the gown from her shoulders, she raised her chemise. Together they pulled the cloth over her head. His hands grazed up her sides, imparting delicious thrills.

  The tiny brazier in the corner proffered just enough light for them to see each other.

  “Joanna. You are exquisite.”

  That this powerful, magnificent man found her appealing filled her with sensual power. He pulled her against him, sending his warmth flowing into her. Ah, yes. She could stay this way forever, held securely in Adrian’s arms, their bodies as one.

  He kissed her as he lowered her to the bed. With a fluid motion, he joined her. The narrowness of the bed required Adrian to lie partially atop her, but his weight was comforting and she enjoyed their closeness. He kissed her until she thought she’d melt into the mattress, hot as molten glass.

  Her hands roamed his back and arms. He turned so they were on their sides facing each other, leaving more freedom to touch. His hands cupped her breasts, then he bent his head and kissed her there, taking a nipple into his mouth and sucking gently. His tongue spiraled over her sensitive flesh.

  Joanna tightened her grip on his shoulders.

  His hand slid past her stomach to rest between her legs, his fingers seeking the moist folds. Joanna arched off the bed as he found her core. She gasped at the sensations that gripped her, at the pressure building inside.

  “Adrian, I….” She could say no more, for he found a rhythm so enticing she didn’t want him to stop. Inner tension mounted as she approached some unknown goal.

  Then he stopped his magical pressure. She felt bereft.

  Adrian moved over her, holding most of his weight on his hands. He was breathing hard. “Open for me, Joanna.”

  She looked down the length of his body poised over hers, marveling at his physical beauty.

  “Do what you feel like doing,” he whispered.

  She had to touch him as he’d touched her, had to give him the same pleasure. As her hand closed over his erection, he caught his breath. He watched her hand slide over him.

  “Tell me what pleases you,” Joanna whispered.

  “You seem to already know,” he answered. “But I need to be inside you. Now.”

  He took her hand and kissed her palm, then positioned himself above her.

  “Now,” he repeated, pressing his length into her.

  Joanna’s body erupted with pleasure as he filled her. He moved, slowly out and slowly in. The pressure within her increased, bliss heightening and expanding until she thought she might explode with the joy of it.

  More, she needed more.

  “Adrian….”

  “Be one with me, Joanna.” He moaned softly as he plunged into her again.

  Her world burst into a million sparkles, brighter than the sun on jeweled glass.

  Adrian started. They’d fallen asleep on Joanna’s bed. He was practically on top of her, but she didn’t seem to mind. The coals in the brazier had dimmed, but he could still make out her face. Her hand rested possessively on his back.

  Amazing. Never before had he experienced such urgency with a woman, nor enjoyed such a powerful release. Joanna’s honest passion had sparked both intense desire and a need to please her.

  He wanted to do it again.

  In repose, her beauty touched him. He noted her flawless skin, her delicate nose, her lips slightly parted, her tousled red-gold cur
ls fanning across the pillow. He couldn’t resist twisting one around his finger.

  Adrian watched her sleep. How lucky he was to have found her. He hadn’t realized how much he needed someone to care for. He had to admit that he wanted to be cared for in return.

  Until now he hadn’t known a woman with whom he’d want more than a causal connection. Which was a good thing, given his unusual situation.

  Making love with Joanna was more than the physical joining, more than the exchange of great pleasure. And what he’d felt for her wasn’t just because she was his wife. He’d experienced a sharing, a giving, one to the other, far beyond anything he had expected or known was possible.

  That could be the most dangerous thing of all.

  Chapter 12

  The three ales William downed hadn’t taken the edge off his woes. He and John shared a table at The Mermaid, leftovers of their mutton stew congealing in a chipped bowl between them. Smoke trailed about, carrying the smell of burned meat. Raucous laughter filled the room. William slammed his cup down and glared at the happy people. Did no one else have concerns as grave as his?

  Time was running out. Unless he could make Joanna fail in the next five months, the glass-painting workshop would be hers forever.

  “There must be something I can do,” William muttered.

  John laughed. “Still worrying over Joanna?” He set his cup on the table. “That man won’t let you anywhere near her. Doesn’t matter anymore what we want.”

  “Time for something drastic,” William said.

  “Like what?” John asked.

  “I could kill her. Better yet, I could cut off her hands.”

  John’s mouth dropped open. He leaned closer, not that the swilling crowd could hear anything he said. “You jest. But you don’t amuse.”

  William swished a mouthful of ale to clear the sudden disgust he tasted. John was right. Even he couldn’t go that far. Besides, he needed her talents. “But what else can I do?”