Having Patience

by Debra Glass

  Despite the fact their marriage was one of expediency, of connections and titles, he wanted Patience to enjoy marital relations with him—not to dread it.

  “Damn,” he muttered and took another hefty gulp of brandy.

  He’d give her this night but one thing was certain. She’d better get used to the idea of being bedded by her husband and she’d better get used to it fast.

  * * * * *

  Patience trembled as she neared the breakfast room. How could she face James after what had transpired the night before?

  Her pulse rioted. She hoped beyond hope that he would not still be angry with her but she knew that would be a miracle. She’d rehearsed what she was going to say over and over until the words spilled from her lips with ease. As soon as the servants retreated, she intended to tell him that he could come to her room tonight.

  It wasn’t because she’d reconciled her feelings about any sort of intimacy with James. She hadn’t. Still, it was only fair that she allow her husband to bed her.

  Besides, the longer she waited, the more awkward it would become.

  James stood when she entered the room. Her gaze collided with his but she averted her eyes quickly. Heat rushed into her cheeks.

  Before a servant could draw back her chair, James did it for her. Adjusting her day gown, she sat. Her heart thundered.

  “Good morning,” James said through a clenched jaw.

  “Good morning,” Patience replied in an almost inaudible voice.

  Servants rushed forward with tea, juice and covered dishes of delectable smelling food.

  “I trust you slept well,” James said. His voice lacked the warmth with which he’d greeted her the previous evening.

  “Yes, thank you,” Patience lied. In truth, she’d tossed and turned all night, mortified by her own behavior. She glanced at two servants who stood at attention against the wall.

  As if James had read her mind, he waved his hand at them. “Leave us. If I need your assistance, I’ll ring for you.”

  Silently, they disappeared.

  “I—” Patience began but James cut her off.

  “I intend to bed you tonight, wife,” he said, leveling his hard gaze on her. “Whether you want it or not.”

  Patience gasped.

  “I suggest you come to terms with your…hesitation,” he added.

  Rampant images raced through her mind. James undressing her, overpowering her, forcing her to bend to his will, to spread for him. Heat flamed in the back of her neck. Her pulse seemed to pound between her legs.

  What was this? It was almost as if…as if she wanted him to ravage her. A lady surely wasn’t supposed to experience such unholy sensations or entertain such licentious thoughts.

  Her governess would have striped her bottom with a switch for being so naughty. She blinked and looked into James’s eyes only to be assaulted with an image of him striping her bottom. A wave of heat rushed over her. Beads of perspiration trickled down her spine and the hollow between her breasts.

  “Do you understand?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Now,” he said, sitting back in his chair. “There’ll be no more talk of it—but be prepared for me when I come to your room tonight.”

  “Yes, of course.”

  * * * * *

  The remainder of the day, James behaved as if everything were normal. He’d invited her to play cards. They’d laughed and joked as if nothing awkward had transpired between them at all.

  But now it was dark out and Patience’s maid had finished brushing out her long hair.

  “Will that be all, Lady Somerset?” Wanda asked.

  Patience could hardly swallow. Lady Somerset. She was indeed Lady Somerset—the wife of Lord Somerset. And although their marriage had been recognized by the Church of England, Patience knew she was Lady Somerset in name only.

  Her marriage still had not been consummated and her husband was doubtless on his way to her room—and her bed—right now.

  “Lady Somerset?” Wanda’s voice jolted her out of her reverie.

  “Yes, yes,” she stammered. “That will be all.”

  Wanda dipped into a curtsy and quit the room, closing the door gently behind her.

  Patience covered her roiling stomach with her hand. “This is foolishness,” she said aloud. For God’s sake, wives had submitted to their husbands since time immemorial. Exactly what did she think was going to happen if she submitted to James?

  She gripped the edge of her dressing table and realized she was shaking. Her gaze riveted to the door. Any moment he would knock and demand entry to her room and to her.

  Any moment he would be stripping off her dressing gown and admiring her nude body, kissing her, touching her—and then…

  Her heartbeat accelerated. Her insides melted as ribald images rampaged in her head. The area between her legs warmed and pulsed. She imagined taking off her clothes and awaiting his arrival naked. What would he say? What would he do?

  A whimper escaped her lips as she fantasized about him uttering erotic commands to her. “Be naked when I come to you or I will surely punish you.”

  Shock flooded her. James was a gentleman! He would certainly never make such vile remarks. Never!

  She gained her feet, looking for something, anything, with which to fan her blazing cheeks.

  And then, the faintest knock sounded on the door.

  Chapter Two

  James drew in a deep breath as he waited in the hallway. She was his wife, dammit. So why did he feel such guilt at doing what all married couples did?

  He managed his lands with an iron hand, always demanding more, the best. Why could he not manage his wife?

  He clenched his teeth and knocked on her door again. No woman he’d ever desired had ever denied him. Not one. But, he reminded himself, Patience was no experienced widow or bored aristocrat. She was a virgin bride.

  Despite his past as somewhat of a rakehell, he’d decided to put that life behind him, to marry a respectable woman.

  He just hadn’t known how respectable. He lifted his hand to knock again. No. Go in. An invitation is not required.

  And just as he reached for the handle, it twisted and the door opened. “Come in, my lord.”

  James straightened and stepped into the room.

  Hugging her dressing gown close with one hand, Patience shut the door with the other. Her gaze fell to the carpet, her wealth of umber hair falling forward to obscure one side of her face.

  James suddenly felt as shy as his wife. The unfamiliar emotion only angered him. He should have taken her and been done with this last night. If he had, he wagered, tonight would be a different story.

  “You can dispense with the my lords, Patience. We are husband and wife and as such, should be on more intimate terms.”

  “Yes my—” She stopped short and her gaze lifted. “James.”

  The sound of his name on her lips sent tendrils of heat reaching through his limbs. He inhaled and the mere act of drawing a breath caused his cock to swell. Patience, he reminded himself—both the virtue and the woman.

  Reluctantly, he dragged his gaze from her and crossed the floor to give the bell pull a tug. “I’ll have someone bring up a bottle of wine. That should soothe both our nerves.”

  Patience gave him a nod. She looked as if she would come out of her skin if he so much as touched her. But there was something in her eyes. Was it interest? James peered into them. She blinked and looked away.

  She turned and walked a few steps toward the center of the room.

  You won’t get away that easily, love. James closed the distance between them and encircled her shoulders with his hands. She stiffened. “It doesn’t have to be like this,” he murmured against her hair which smelled of lavender and mint. He breathed in the clean scent, wondering what her skin would smell like—taste like. “I think you will find that I am hardly a repulsive oaf.”

  Patience inhaled sharply. “I don’t think you’re a repulsive oaf.”
/>   “Then why this hesitation?”

  She hugged her arms tighter. “I don’t know.”

  He gently urged her to face him. When he brushed a lock of her hair behind her ear, she looked up at him. James was struck by her beauty and innocence, by the clear anticipation in her gaze.

  A muscle in her forehead twitched and had he not been standing so close to her, he would never have perceived it. Perhaps she was afraid of the pain of losing her virginity. He could allay that fear.

  “It will only hurt but a second,” he told her.

  Her lips parted. Her cheeks grew pink. “It’s…it’s not that.”

  “Does my reputation offend you?” he asked.

  A tiny smile played on her lips. “No. I was…am…thrilled to have been the woman you chose to wed.”

  James swept his thumb across her bottom lip. She trembled as he took a step closer. “You have nothing at all to fear from me unless you fear pleasure,” he whispered as he slanted his mouth down to hers.

  His lips brushed hers. She softened. But James’s triumph was short-lived.

  A servant knocked on the door, breaking the lovers’ spell.

  James growled, regretting his decision to have wine brought up. With chagrin, he moved away from his wife and went to the door. “Bring up a bottle of sherry from the cellar, please.”

  “Yes, milord,” the servant said with a quick curtsy.

  James turned back to Patience. There was no use in pursuing her further until the wine was brought up and they were ensured privacy for the rest of the night. Standing here staring at each other was also out of the question. It would only serve to make Patience more anxious.

  Damn. She’d been easy to talk to, to be with, during their courtship. Here, alone with her, the bed loomed like an executioner’s scaffold. Her apprehension had become contagious.

  “Do…are you happy with your room?” James asked, eyeing the sitting room next to the hearth.

  “Very much so. Thank you.”

  “Patience, you need not be so formal with me. After all, we are friends—as well as marriage partners,” he said as he shucked his frock coat.

  Her eyes widened but she said nothing.

  He began unfastening the buttons of his waistcoat. Patience’s gaze dropped to his hands, lower still and then shot back up again. She wet her lips with the tip of her tongue. Terror returned to her gaze.

  “What do you expect to happen?” James asked. “In bed?”

  She expelled a quick breath. “I…I only know what I was told by Miss Killian.”

  “Ah,” James said. “Your governess. She isn’t married, is she?”

  “No,” Patience replied.

  James resisted the urge to snort his disdain. “And what do you think a stuffy spinster knows of what goes on in a man and his wife’s bed?”

  Despite herself, Patience smiled. James returned her smile. He dared to take a step closer. “What did she tell you, Patience?”

  “She…she told me that I was to be silent. That…copulation…was a man’s business—for a man’s pleasure. That it was…dirty.”

  “I should have her horsewhipped,” James uttered jokingly under his breath. He sighed. “Well, Miss Killian was wrong.”

  Patience’s lashes fluttered. “What does happen…in bed?”

  Victory was close. Her resistance was melting under his very gaze. “First, we will share a kiss or two. More.”

  He moved closer. Her breasts rose and fell with quick, shallow breaths.

  “Then, I will show you what pleasure your body can offer. I’ll touch and kiss your neck, your breasts—”

  At that, she averted her eyes. The color rose in her face.

  “I’ll undress you and kiss every place on your body that I bare. Every place, Patience. Make no mistake, you will be thoroughly sated before I ever plunge my cock into your cunny.”

  She gasped and her gaze shot to his but just as quickly, she looked away. James watched her. Her arms hung at her sides, her fists clenched. Her dressing gown had fallen away and dusky nipples pebbled beneath the thin white fabric of her nightgown.

  Almost there.

  “Did Miss Killian tell you that, Patience?” he asked.

  “No. She did not.”

  “Did she tell you that I can pleasure you with mouth, my fingers, my cock and then bring you to that same feeling you get when you touch yourself?”

  She jolted and took several steps away. “I…I don’t do that. I don’t—” Her voice was quick. Panicked.

  “Patience, it is nothing to be—”

  A second knock on the door interrupted him. Patience pulled her dressing gown closed as James opened the door for the servant.

  The servant left the wine and was gone in a matter of seconds but again, the thrall he’d had on her had faded. The cork had already been removed, so James poured two glasses of the fragrant sherry. He handed one to Patience.

  She sipped it.

  James took a drink of his own. “Would you like to sit?”

  “If you wish.”

  But instead of sitting in one of her chairs, he moved to the bed and sat on the edge. Patience followed, sitting stiffly on the edge. Her gaze fixed on the wine in her glass.

  “I promise you that I will be as gentle with you as possible and that I won’t do anything to hurt you,” James said, scooting closer to her.

  Her shoulders dropped but only slightly. As he reached for her, she lifted her glass to her lips. His touch obviously startled her because she spilled some of her wine on her dressing gown.

  “Oh no!” she exclaimed as she shot to her feet, her expression horrorstruck. “Oh, I’ve ruined it.”

  James stood and took her wine, setting both their wine glasses on the table beside the bed. At once, he seized Patience by the shoulders. “It’s all right, sweetheart. It’s all right. One soiled dressing gown doesn’t matter. I can order you a hundred. I will order you a hundred. Anything you want, Patience. Say the word.”

  Her gaze searched his and the panic slowly subsided. “Anything?” she asked.

  James suddenly had the feeling he’d offered her the wrong thing. “Anything,” he conceded against his better judgment.

  “I…I need time. I need to figure out what I’m so frightened. Please give me that,” she beseeched.

  James’s heart sank. “Very well, Patience.” He sighed and released her. “Very well.”

  * * * * *

  What on earth was wrong with her? James had been kind to her. He’d clearly demonstrated that he was concerned with her emotions. How could she have rebuked him again?

  Unable to sleep, Patience paced. She was being foolhardy and there was nothing she could do to stop herself. It was as if some other being took over her body whenever she was alone with him—as if some unknown fear gripped her and refused to release its tenacious hold.

  He was handsome and tall with a wealth of black hair and eyes so dark a brown they looked almost black. Slightly broader than most gentle-bred men, he commanded any room which he entered. His mind was sharp and his lands and wealth were plentiful. At thirty, he was only eight years older than she was.

  Patience could find nothing at all odious about him. Her hesitation made no sense whatsoever.

  But dark thoughts intruded. When she’d spilled the wine on her dressing gown, she had half hoped he would strip it off and scold her. Punish her.

  Heat radiated from the inside out. When she’d asked him if he would give her time, she had wanted—wanted—him to deny her. She’d wanted him to yank up her nightgown, paddle her backside for refusing him and then plunge his cock into her cunny, as he’d so lewdly put it.

  A shiver tore through her limbs. Realization flooded Patience. She wanted him to take her. To make her—because if he stole her ability to acquiesce, somehow that would give her permission to feel, to experience, to enjoy.

  But how could she ever put words to a request such as that? No lady would ever admit that she required her husband to ravage h
er. Patience swallowed hard. Or that she wanted her husband to ravage her.

  No. She could not. And for that reason, she was doomed to her present state. At some point, she would give in and lie quietly while the deed was done and hope that it did not last too long. Once an heir had been produced, James could seek his pleasure elsewhere.

  Patience bit her bottom lip. She’d grown to love James as a friend during their courtship and the idea of him in the arms of a faceless mistress made her stomach knot.

  She clenched her fists so hard her nails bit into her palms. She would simply have to come to terms with why she could not give in—or figure out a way to provoke him to take what he wanted.

  * * * * *

  “Somerset, old chap! Whatever are you doing here with that lovely bride at home?”

  James looked up from his chair in his Pall Mall club to discover his old friend, the Viscount Lambden. He grimaced. How could he explain that he hadn’t so much as seen his wife without her dressing gown, much less bedded her?

  Lambden’s smile melted on his ruddy face. “Oh my. That bad, eh?”

  James nodded.

  Lambden pulled up a chair and sat. “I’m not surprised.”

  “Not surprised?” James asked and then he added bitterly, “I am.”

  Lambden chuckled and then his voice dropped to a whisper so that the men engrossed in cards at the table next to them wouldn’t hear. “Lady Lambden was timid at first as well.”

  James arched an eyebrow. Violet Lambden was the most openly sensual woman he knew. With one look, she could make a man’s knees weaken. Her sexual innuendos were the scourge of the more proper ladies of the ton. Those who weren’t jealous of her aspired to be like her. “You jest,” James said.

  “No. It’s the God’s own truth,” Lambden said.

  “How did you get her to—” James began but could not bring to mind an appropriate term.

  “Get her to fuck?” Lambden chuckled again.

  James smiled, relaxing into the conversation. “Yes.”

  “I showered her with penny dreadfuls.”