And the only way to appease them was to worship them. Which he fully intended to do. And it wasn’t blasphemous to think of this, what he was about to do, as an act of worship. Hadn’t he, at some point in the marriage service, vowed to worship her body with his own?
He knelt beside the bed, the way a mere mortal should when approaching a goddess, reached over to take her foot and then kissed every single one of her perfect little toes. He stroked the arches of her feet, before encircling her ankle with kisses, while his hand slid up her calves.
He could feel muscle beneath the velvety soft skin he was caressing. Muscles that told him she was not weak, or delicate, though she was so slender. He could feel them bunching and trembling as she shifted her legs restlessly. Impatiently? Lord, he hoped so. But he wasn’t going to rush this. Even though she’d told him she wanted this, and had welcomed him to her room, her bed, with a smile, he was determined to make absolutely certain her body was ready, too.
He would wait until her legs were not just shifting but opening, inviting, needing him to move between them. Until she was beside herself with desire.
Thank God he hadn’t come into this marriage pure, as her father had hoped. Thank goodness he had some experience of how to work his way round a woman’s body.
He climbed onto the bed, and took her hand, the one she was using to cover her breasts, and raised it to his mouth. And he kissed each finger, the palm of her hand, her wrist, the soft skin on her forearm...
‘Ben,’ she whispered.
Which made him raise his gaze to her mouth. And then lower his head to hers. While he kissed her he came down next to her, using his free arm to wrap round her waist so that he could feel the whole length of her pressed close to the length of him. It was almost too much. His need was so great that he almost came to a spend right then, just at the feel of her soft thigh against his own.
He moved back so that there was an inch or two of air between them, so that it didn’t finish before it even began. He’d already waited for years, without any hope that he’d ever reach this place. He could wait a few minutes longer. No, however long it took. As he’d already vowed. For there would be no pleasure for him if she wasn’t with him all the way. In this, physical act, if nowhere else.
So he began by tracing the outline of her breast. With his hand first, and then his mouth, suckling gently, breathing in the scent of her skin now, as well as the floral scent she used.
And then, as he’d promised himself, he worshipped every inch of her glorious body. Learning as he went what she liked. So that he could arouse her.
She was responsive. Beautifully responsive. She came to a peak of pleasure twice before he could no longer hold himself back. Before he finally laid claim to her, making her his wife in deed. By taking his own pleasure deep inside her in a release so powerful he shouted aloud in triumph. Before being torn by a wave of emotion so raw he almost wept with it.
Instead, he buried his face in the pillow, next to her face, lest she see how she’d unmanned him.
* * *
Daisy gazed, in awe at the man who lay half-sprawled across her, his ragged breathing gradually slowing. She had never, in all her life, imagined that a man could make her feel so...utterly amazing.
So amazing she could actually see the point in marrying, if this was what it was all about.
And to think that it was Ben who’d brought her to this place of...she wriggled...utter contentment. She wanted to hug him, although it was evident he was sliding into sleep, from the way his body was slackening and his breathing growing deeper. And she didn’t want to disturb him. It would seem ungrateful, after all the work he’d put in.
A little smile tugged at her mouth, though, as she recalled the way he’d looked at her as he’d stalked across the room to the bed. The intent look on his face. Although she hadn’t been able to resist taking a swift glance at the rest of him once he’d pulled off his shirt. It was true that she’d seen him before, but that had only been from a distance, and by moonlight.
Later, when they’d been in the boat, she’d had to keep her eyes firmly fixed anywhere but on him, in case he thought she was...admiring all those muscles. But she had no longer cared if he did think she was admiring his muscles. It was a completely different situation, with him deliberately removing his shirt and standing over her. The sight of his firm, powerful body had made her mouth run dry. He was different, she’d noted, with the tones of his skin and hair warmly lit by candles. And he was no longer just one of her brother’s friends either.
The thought of what was about to happen had made her fingers clumsy. Which had made him lose his patience with her. Though not in a bad way. On the contrary, it had been terribly thrilling when he’d just taken hold of the gown and torn it in two. It had made her feel...irresistible.
Oh, dear, though, she’d have to explain the torn gown to Marcie in the morning.
Well, never mind, they’d probably have a little giggle about it. That was what had made her insist on promoting Marcie, after all, wasn’t it? The fact that she had that irreverent sense of humour.
Ben was almost certainly asleep now. But Daisy was still too full of awe, and shock, though it was a pleasant sort of shock. More than pleasant.
Though Ben, slack with sleep, was rather heavy. And the sweat that was cooling on her skin made her want to pull the covers over herself.
‘Ben,’ she whispered, giving his shoulder a little nudge.
He mumbled something indistinct.
‘Ben,’ she said again, a little louder. Then nudged him more firmly.
He turned his head into her neck and breathed deeply. ‘Daisy,’ he murmured.
‘Yes,’ she said firmly. ‘And I’m not a cushion. Could you just...’ She gave him a harder shove, managing to dislodge him sufficiently to be able to grab the edge of a sheet, which she drew up over them both, before settling down next to her husband.
Her husband. She sighed. She was a married woman now. Properly married. And even though it was the last thing she’d wanted just a few weeks ago, right at this moment she felt as though she might be one of the luckiest women in England.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Ben came to with a start. He was half-sprawled across Daisy, who was lying flat on her back, looking most uncomfortable, and clearly cold. Well, what else should she be when he’d managed to get all the covers wrapped round himself?
God, he was a selfish bastard. Her first time, and instead of checking to make sure she was fine after her initiation into marriage, what had he done? Passed out in a surfeit of sexual pleasure. And then, in his sleep, stolen all the covers from her, leaving her chilled and...vulnerable.
He sat up, untangling himself from the sheets and draping them carefully over her body. Catching sight, as he did so, of the remains of her nightgown. Lord, if she hadn’t hated him before, she must surely do so now. He’d been so greedy for her he’d ripped it from her body like some...marauding soldier after conquering a besieged citadel. After all those nights he’d spent comparing her to a city he was preparing to besiege, perhaps it was no wonder.
But what damage might he have done? Daisy had told him she thought men were savages, cloaked by only the flimsiest veneer of civilisation. And he’d just proved her right.
He slid, crablike, from the bed, fumbled for the clothes he’d cast to the floor last night and fled from the room without stopping to put them on. It was not yet fully light outside. The servants wouldn’t be up and about yet. So he wasn’t going to shock any of them by wandering naked along the corridors.
He ran down the stairs, making it to the relative safety of his study, which was also his bedroom, without running into anyone. He went straight to the desk, where he’d been putting out a pitcher of water every night, took his washcloth from the top drawer of the desk where he kept it, and swiftly cleansed himself.
But it wasn’t enough.
He needed to...to get outside. Somewhere he could be on his own. To mull over what had happened, what he’d done, and come to terms with it without having to deal with anyone else.
And work out how he was going to face Daisy, after the way he’d...used her.
* * *
Daisy woke feeling a bit cold. And a bit sore. And a bit confused. She’d been so lovely and warm all night, with Ben’s large body next to hers. But now the space next to her was cold.
She rolled to her side and couldn’t help smiling when she saw the imprint of his head in the pillow. She leaned into it, sniffing the scent he’d left behind. Her smile grew wider still when it struck her that before leaving he’d draped the covers, the covers which he’d hogged to himself while asleep, over her so that she wouldn’t get cold without him to snuggle up to.
Ah, Ben! He was so sweet. So considerate.
She rolled onto her back, and raised her arms over her head, stretching her whole body. A body that felt somehow different today. A body that she would never be able to think of in exactly the same way after what Ben had taught her about it last night.
The sun was shining again today, she could see through the chinks in the curtains. It was going to be another glorious day.
She got out of bed and rang for Marcie, her mood so sunny that she didn’t care what the maid might say about her ruined nightgown. She had plenty more, after all. Ben could rip one off her every night as far as she was concerned. And when he’d gone through what she had she’d just buy some more.
She was still smiling when, later, she reached the kitchen. Which was empty.
‘Where is...everyone?’ She meant Ben, of course, but wasn’t going to give herself away by appearing so keen to know exactly where he was and what he was doing when so far she’d taken such pains to snub him. She might feel very differently about him, and about herself, too, but she had no intention of turning into one of those women who trotted about after a man like some spaniel at the heel of an adored master. The way Mother so often did with Father. She suppressed a shudder. That would never happen to her. Apart from her own determination to never sink to that level, Ben was nothing like Father. Or...or any other male she’d ever known.
He was unique.
‘They’ve all had breakfast hours ago,’ said Mrs Green from her place at the stove where she was stirring something in a big, blackened pot. ‘All except His Lordship, who never showed at all. Gone off somewhere, his man reckons.’
‘Gone?’ A chill flooded her, replacing all the glowing warmth in which she’d been basking ever since waking up. Gone where? Gone out on some business about the estate? Or just...gone?
Now that she considered his behaviour last night, there had been something grim about the way he’d paused on the threshold of the room, looking around it, looking at everything but her. And then something determined about the way he’d stalked across to her bed. And now she came to think of it, although he’d taken her to heights of delirious pleasure, several times, he’d only experienced such a peak once. And had then, instead of hugging her, or speaking to her, or reassuring her, fallen straight to sleep. As if the effort of giving her the wedding night she’d practically demanded of him had exhausted him.
Had her needy behaviour, her downright lustful response sickened him so much he could not bear to look at her this morning?
‘Thought you wasn’t coming down for breakfast,’ said Mrs Green, her spoon poised in mid-air. ‘I can fry you some eggs if you like...’
Her stomach roiled at the mere mention of them. ‘No, thank you. Just...some bread and jam will be fine.’ There was always plenty of fresh bread about. And she could eat it swiftly and leave the kitchen without having to attempt to make any sort of conversation whilst worrying that Ben might have been so disgusted by the way she’d...rolled round the bed, moaning and sighing, and running her hands all over his back, and, yes, at one point when all her senses had deserted her, digging her nails into his buttocks like one of the sort of women Father was always warning her brothers to avoid like the plague, that he’d gone. Left not only the bed but the house.
Oh, no. Might he have even completely gone? He’d talked about leaving, hadn’t he? She’d assumed he’d changed his mind, and decided to stay, but could last night have changed his mind back again?
‘Vale,’ said Mrs Green, turning back to her pot, ‘has started carrying what furniture he thinks can be mended into the barn.’
‘That is good,’ she said absentmindedly, slathering butter onto a slice of bread. ‘I’ll take this out and go and see how he’s getting on,’ she added, it suddenly occurring to her that the stables were on the way to the barn. And while she was passing she could see if Ben’s horse was still there. Which she had to do, as soon as humanly possible. And it would save a lot of time if she ate her bread and jam on the way rather than sitting at the table as though she had all day.
Heart lurching, she tried to make it look as if she hadn’t a care in the world as she made her way to the stables.
It was such a relief to see his horse in its stall that she could have kissed it. Because if the horse was there, then Ben was still about, somewhere. She just had to find him.
And...say what? Demand to know why he’d left her bed, rather than hug and kiss her in the morning, the way Mother said a man did when he was pleased with his wife?
The alternative, though, was to avoid him. And she’d already done far too much of that so far in this marriage. If they stood any chance of building a lasting, solid relationship, one of them was going to have to grasp the proverbial bull by the horns and discuss what they’d done last night. Or at least, she amended, feeling a flush sweep her entire body, discuss what it meant to them. Clear the air.
Because there was something amiss. A man didn’t sneak out of his wife’s bed the morning after making her his own and hide from her, and, more importantly, skip breakfast, unless there was some sort of problem. And it wouldn’t be a case of trotting after him like a spaniel. Because she wasn’t going to roll over and beg him to...well, beg in any fashion. She was going to...to stand up for what she wanted, that was what she was going to do. And that meant talking about things. She’d learned that much already during the short time they’d been married.
Another thing she’d learned during the days she’d been intent on avoiding him so that she hadn’t had to talk to him was his daily routine. About this time in the mornings he usually dealt with his correspondence and other paperwork in his study. So that would be the most likely place to find him. If he really hadn’t left her.
She could go and peep through the window to check, a cowardly part of her suggested. But that would smack too much of the behaviour of that other woman who’d come sneaking around Ben. And she was not going to descend to that level. She had every right to go and speak to Ben whenever she wished! He was her husband. So she strode back into the house, made her way along the corridor to his study and knocked on the door, waiting, this time, for his deep voice to reply, before pushing it open. He may be her husband, but she had learned her lesson the last time she’d burst in here. Not that she expected him to be kissing another woman today, not after what they’d done last night. Or even the same one. No, not at all. Because he’d explained it all to her. And she’d believed him. It was just...
‘Yes?’
Her knees went weak with relief. He was there. Going about his business as usual. Perhaps it was only in her head that there was a problem.
Or was it? A man didn’t skip breakfast for no good reason.
Timidly, she pushed open the door and stepped inside. Ben was sitting at his desk, papers and writing implements strewn about, and his thick, dark hair in disorder as though he’d been running his fingers through it. The way she had done last night when he’d been trailing kisses down her stomach...
The thought made her blush. It was all she could do to look him in the eye. And w
hen she did, it was to see a wary expression in his.
Wary? Why should he be wary?
Although...she had flounced around in a strop for the first few days of their marriage, hadn’t she? And made him think she was angry with him...which she had been, though not at first...
She drew a deep breath. Yes, it was past time they cleared the air.
‘Good morning,’ she said. ‘I hope I am not disturbing you?’ The way she had done last time she’d come in here and caught him with that woman draped round his neck. Perhaps it was not wise of her to remind him of that moment because his shoulders tensed up. And the quill pen, which he was clutching in his fingers, twitched as though he’d suddenly gripped it more tightly.
‘Not at all,’ he replied politely, his face devoid of expression now.
Oh, Ben. She’d really put him through the wringer, hadn’t she? So it was up to her to reassure him that she hadn’t come to start a fight.
‘Mrs Green said you didn’t have any breakfast. Shall I bring you something? Some bread and jam? Coffee?’
He blinked. The pen fell from his fingers, making an ugly blot on whatever it was he’d been writing.
‘Oh, dear,’ she said, shutting the door behind her and approaching the desk. ‘I did not mean to, er...’ She peered into his face, trying to work out what he might be thinking. As usual, though, it was impossible to tell. Although it never looked as if it was anything good. During his teen years he had perfected the art of keeping a cynical, if not downright morose expression on his face nearly all the time.
He drew in a deep breath. Sat up straight. ‘I am at your complete disposal. Whatever you have to say,’ he said, reaching for some blotting paper and dabbing at the document, which meant that he wasn’t looking at her at all any longer, as though he was unwilling to meet her eye, ‘I will...’ All of a sudden he got to his feet. ‘I beg your pardon, I should have...the moment you came in... Forgot my manners...’
Harlequin Historical September 2021--Box Set 2 of 2 Page 17
