She nodded.
Hand in hand they exited through a door in the garden wall and walked across a pasture to the river. The water bubbled by and the sun created diamonds in the ripples. “Is there anywhere you would like to go for a honeymoon?”
“I had not thought about it. It would be nice to stay here for a few days, if that would be all right with you. Though, I expect you must have business to get back to. I do not wish to hinder you.”
He slid her hand through the crook in his elbow and they strolled along the river. “You do not hinder me, Dory. You are my wife.”
“Thank you.”
Where the river turned, he stopped and knelt in front of her. “I feel we did this out of order and it should be corrected.”
“What are you doing?”
He pulled his mother’s ring from his pocket. A diamond surrounded by emeralds, it gleamed in the sun but paled in comparison to Dory. “This is the ring my father gave my mother. She gave it to me a few years ago, in hopes I would find a woman who I wished to share my life with.”
“And instead I lured you into a notorious elopement.”
“I cannot be lured, Dory. If I was opposed, no amount of pressure would have forced me to marry you. Will you honor me by wearing the ring?” An enormous weight pressed against his chest and his shoulders ached from the strain of waiting for a reply.
“The honor would be mine, but you are too good to me.”
He slid the ring on her finger. “Hardly.”
“If you do not stand up, I will have to join you on the ground and ruin this dress.”
He laughed and stood. “We cannot have that. You are even more stunning in this dress than you are in any other.”
“Will you always be so good?”
Leaning down he kissed her lips and brushed her hair back from her shoulder. “I will try.”
A gasp escaped her and she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, pulling herself against him.
Everything he could have ever dreamed of was wrapped in his arms and he worshiped her lips with his own. Her sighs and moans thrilled him and his reaction reminded him they were in the woods and she was an innocent. “I think we should return to the house before I ravish you on the ground.”
She stepped back. “I am your wife, Tom. Your property.”
How he hated that notion. “I will protect you with my life, Dorothea, but you need not subjugate yourself. I like you as you are: strong, talented, and formidable. Please do not feign some simpering twit because you think it is what I want. The woman who brazenly came to a bachelor’s townhouse and proposed marriage is the woman I want.”
“I do not make the rules.” Her eyes narrowed on him.
“Why can we not be in this together? Must it be me conquering you?”
“I have no idea what you want of me.” She stepped away her back straight as the tall oak she leaned on.
His temper flared and he cursed himself. “Forgive me. I am not angry at you. Hopefully, with time and trust, you will see me as your partner and not your master. I do not wish to master you, Dory. I do not wish to change anything about you.”
Chapter 8
Ten minutes earlier, Emily had gone to bed, leaving Dory to worry about her wedding night. Her wedding night. She couldn’t believe she had gone through with it. She was Mrs. Wheel and any moment Thomas would arrive in their bedroom and take her virginity. She shouldn’t be nervous. Elinor and Sophia had told her, in great detail, what happened between husband and wife. She should calm herself and do what was right. He had sacrificed his bachelorhood and his reputation to rescue her. Sex was the least she could give in return.
Why did her heart beat as if it wanted out of her chest? Taking up her lap harp, she sat on the chair near the fireplace and plucked the strings. It sounded as stilted as her emotions. She took off the constricting wrap and placed it on the arm of the chair. She closed her eyes and drew her fingertips along the strings.
All her love had poured into her music and she had no more to give.
The harp rewarded her with a gentle vibration that filled the room with sound. She played Bach’s “Sonata in G” and wished she had a full-sized harp to give it all it deserved.
The door opened and she stopped mid-stroke.
“Please do not stop.” Thomas entered and closed the door behind him. Still in his clothes from dinner, he was elegant and handsome.
She should have left her wrap on. “I have never played for someone while wearing only my nightdress.”
He grinned and sat in the chair opposite her. “I would not think you had.”
“I am embarrassed.” She swallowed down her fear and met his gaze.
“Finish the piece, Dory. Please. I would love to hear it and I am a great admirer of Bach.”
Her expectation was for him to barge in and demand his husbandly rights. His quiet request for her to play for him surprised her. Calming her heartbeat, she focused on the curved neck of the harp. She ran her hand along the wooden shoulder and down the soundboard. With her eyes closed she began the piece from where she had stopped. Her left hand brought depth while her right pulled out the melody.
The music vibrated through her, around her and to the depth of her soul.
She plucked out the last notes and placed her palms against the strings, silencing the harp.
“You are magnificent.” Thomas leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. His eyes, the color of the summer sky, shone in the lamplight.
Dory placed the harp on the table. “The piece is wonderful. I am only the interpreter.”
“I think you do not know your value in the equation. Will you show me something on the harp?”
She giggled. “You really want to learn to play harp?”
He raised an eyebrow. “I realize it is uncommon for a man to play the harp. I feel secure in that what happens in private with my wife will remain private.”
Picturing him behind the feminine instrument amused her more than it should. “What if our secret gets out and all the ton learns that you are learning to play harp?”
“I am secure enough in my masculinity to survive that as well.” His smile was warm and alluring.
Shrugging, she pointed to the floor in front of her chair. “Bring that ottoman here.”
He did as she commanded.
“Sit and pick up the harp. Place it in your lap so that the soundboard rests against your chest.”
Once he sat, she inched forward until her chest pressed to his back.
He stiffened.
Her nightdress scrunched up at her thighs and the pose was more intimate than she intended. Unwilling to back down, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and took his hands. She placed them near the strings. “You must relax.”
“You are not making that easy to do.” His muscles eased in spite of his claim.
“Keep your elbows up and your wrists down.” She lifted his elbows then pressed down on his wrists.
“Like this?” He did as she instructed.
“That is very good. Now point your knuckles at the corner where the wall meets the ceiling with your thumbs up.” His closeness infused her with heat and made it difficult to concentrate on the lesson.
“This is the G and this the B.” She plucked the strings, one then the other.
“It has a lovely sound.”
She had to catch her breath. Her thighs quivered and she struggled to think what to tell him next. “When you play, you pull your fingers in to your palm and your thumb covers your first finger.” She plucked three strings creating a chord.
He tried it and the sound was successful, though harsh rather than soft and lilting as the harp should be.
“You need to relax your hands, arms, and shoulders.” She rubbed his back and shoulders, kneading the tight muscles.
He put the
harp on the table. “My dear, Dory, as long as you are pressed to my body as you are now, I shall never relax.”
She pushed back sucking in her breath. “Forgive me.”
He turned so he faced her with her legs on either side of his. Sliding his hands along her thighs, he gazed into her eyes. “There is nothing to forgive.”
“I do not wish to offend you, Tom, but I think I should tell you, I am quite terrified.” It was foolish to be so afraid, but her heart lodged in her throat and she worried she might vomit at any moment.
With his hands on her thighs, he gripped her and pulled her forward until she was in his lap with her legs over his. Her most intimate spot pulsed against the ridge in his breeches. “As you just instructed me, you must relax.”
“I do not think it is possible.” Torn between fear and curiosity, she yearned for more, but the idea was too foreign.
Gripping her bottom with one hand, he ran his knuckles down her face with the other. “I shall practice on the harp.”
She forced a smile through her fear. “I will become accustomed to this kind of intimacy with you.”
He cupped the back of her head threading his fingers through her hair. “I sincerely hope so, Dory.”
“Strange, but I hope so too.”
The kiss was no more than a whisper. He rubbed his lips over hers and a moan rumbled in his chest.
Dory’s skin hummed with desire as if the kiss was everywhere all at once. He’d kissed her before, but this was different. He wanted something from her beyond the duties of a wife to her husband. This kiss asked for permission, for partnership and for equality of desire. She wanted more from this man who didn’t laugh when she’d told him her most sacred dreams. He almost made her believe she could do things a man did, just as he’d taken the first step to play the harp. She pulled his bottom lip between hers.
A long, low moan rumbled up from his chest and vibrated against her mouth. He imitated what she had done but with her top lip.
Her breath and a bit of her soul mingled with his.
His tongue slid inside her mouth.
Warm and exquisite sensations flowed down her body and settled between her legs. She pressed her hips forward hoping for some relief, but the want only increased with the pressure. Gripping him with her legs she pulled him tighter. Like a bolt of lightning, the additional contact shot through her.
Releasing her legs, she pushed back. “You must think me the most terrible wanton.”
Holding tight to her back and bottom, he did not let her go far. “I can hardly think at all, sweet Dory.”
“Is that wise?”
“Imperative.” He kissed her lips, tilting his head so they fit together.
Brimming with excitement, Dory pushed her fears aside.
He slid his hand along her thigh, where the nightgown bunched to her hips.
She shivered with the intimacy, wanting more but not knowing how to ask.
Still farther his fingers traveled along her inner thigh, his thumb finding her most intimate spot.
Gasping with shock and a hunger for more, she rocked forward. The reward was immeasurable.
He slid his fingers along her crease sending jolts of delight through her.
She clutched his shoulders and neck wanting to participate, but being unable to put a plan into action. Instead she bucked against his hand and reveled in the fervor his fingers created.
With one finger, he breached her where nothing ever had before, stretching her with a second finger.
Sounds she had never heard from herself cried from her lips and she stilled against his penetration.
He rubbed his thumb against her bud and her world exploded.
Crashing waves of ecstasy washed over her. She thrust her hips tight to his hand, her body clasping his fingers. More waves ebbed and flowed and he held her through the physical storm.
He cooed in her ear and stroked her back as he kissed her neck. “That was the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.”
As her rapture ebbed away, her face burned with embarrassment. “I do not know what you mean.”
Him standing with her in his arms forced her to hold on with her legs around his hips. He walked toward the bed. “May I make love to you now, Dory?”
“I thought that was what you were doing.”
His grin stirred her desire once again. A second before she’d thought herself spent, but now she longed for more Thomas Wheel.
“That was only a taste.” She might have been a china doll, the way he eased her onto the mattress. Beside the bed, he removed his clothes while never taking his gaze from hers.
Naked, he was magnificent. Hard planes and a splattering of red hair. Even his shaft, though terrifying, was glorious.
Boldly, she touched the ripple along his ribs.
His skin quivered under her touch.
Placing her palm on his stomach, she closed her eyes and let his warmth infuse her. She explored his chest and arms, down the side of his torso to his hips and legs. There were scars, too many to count, but she wanted to hear the story of each one. She fingered a puckered mark just above his knee. “How did you get all of these?”
“That was a pistol in the South of France when I was escaping capture.”
Her heart hurt. “You were captured?”
Taking her hand, he smiled. “For a short time.”
“Will you tell me about it?”
His eyes became distant and lost the warmth she associated with Thomas. “I will tell you, if you want.”
“I would like to know you.”
He crouched in front of the bed before her. “Then we will spend the next few days getting to know one another.” Reaching on either side of her, he gripped the edge of her shift and pulled it up over her breasts.
She lifted her arms and let him undress her. Crossing her arms over her chest like a shield, she wished she was braver. She shivered.
“Are you cold?”
“No.”
“Frightened still?”
“Yes.” She sounded like an idiot.
“You have nothing to fear, sweet Dory.” He went around her and lay back on the bed. “Will you come and lay with me?”
This was the price of her freedom and it was time to pay. However, what they had done in the chair had not felt like payment. He gave her pleasure before taking his own. Her mother said men always took their pleasure. She eased down next to him, exposed and trembling
He rested his palm on her stomach. “You look braced for attack.”
Relaxing was not an option. Her muscles quaked with strain. “I am sorry.”
“It is my responsibility to make you comfortable. I will do my best.” He rested his head on her shoulder, hugged her waist, and crossed his leg over hers.
Trapped, she closed her eyes and braced for the pain that would come. “I think trying to make me comfortable is a futile effort.”
He kissed her chin. “Do you know how beautiful you are?”
“My only saving grace, according to my mother, is my good looks.”
Popping up on his elbow, he frowned at her. “What do you mean?”
“For the better part of my life it was made clear my purpose was to marry well and better my family’s position. I knew it and now I have failed. I did so willfully, of course, but it is failure nonetheless.” Years-old pain and disappointment swelled in her chest.
Thomas sat up and pulled his knees up so he leaned on them with his wide back facing her. His muscles bulged along his shoulders. “Dorothea?”
She had no idea why anger rang in his tone. Going over what she had said, she could think of nothing that should have upset him. She hadn’t even been speaking of him. Perhaps he didn’t wish for her to mention her mother while in bed. That was understandable. She leaned up on her elbows. “Yes.”
“Do you mean to tell me that your parents verbalized their intention to use you to better their place within the ton since you were a child?”
When he put it that way, it sounded awful. Still, it was her place, always had been. “I am not a son; therefore, my purpose was to be pretty and accomplished.”
“Markus will inherit. What is Adam’s use?”
“My younger brother will help Markus, and should anything happen to him, Adam will take his place.”
“He is a spare.” Fury shook in his oath.
“I do not know what you are so angry about. These are my parents’ edicts, not mine. They are not so far off from what society expects of a daughter and a second son.” Sitting all the way up, she pulled a pillow in front of her and hugged it.
He faced her. “How did I not know this? I have known your family since Markus and I were ten years old.”
“You came in the summer for a few weeks. You were very young and your attentions were on riding, hunting, fishing, and seducing the girls in town. Why should you have noticed?” She had loved it when Markus’s friends would come and stay with them. Their presence eased the pressure in the house. Father would cavort with the boys and Mother hid away from the noise of three extra boys in the house. Even at that young age, Dorothea appreciated them leaving her in peace to practice her music or play with the nanny.
“You were only a baby the first time I stayed at the Flammel estate in the country.”
“I do not remember the first time. The first year I remember you and the others staying with us, you were twelve and I was five.”
“You parents are unbearable, Dory. You deserved a childhood filled with love and affection.”
Her heart pounded. “I had a very kind nanny. I am not injured.”
“It is a miracle you have become this warm, kind woman. I have no idea how it happened. I want to rage at your mother and father.” His knees pressed against hers and he took her hands and kissed each one.
“To what end? They are what they are, Tom. Asking more of them would only bring failure. You have saved me from the fate they designed. Let that be enough.”
“Markus never mentioned anything was amiss besides your father’s propensity toward multiple mistresses and overspending.”
Desperate Bride Page 9
