by Jane Charles
It was getting difficult to breath. Why didn’t he simply refuse? “No, but that doesn’t mean I won’t meet someone.”
“She will want to plan a fancy wedding, you being the son of a marquess, and that could take a good year. By then you will no longer be married.”
“Please?” Miss Clark bit her bottom lip. Her hopeful anticipation had been replaced with worry.
He hated to see her disappointed and if they were married, even for the short time they were together, he could do the things he wanted, if she would allow it, of course.
No, he dismissed the thought. He could not risk leaving her with child while he went on his way to Middleton and left her as a governess. She would hate him, especially since she only saw him as the perfect opportunity to get her from one place to another. He was a convenience, and nothing more.
Yet, it would be nice to have her along for the trip. He would just need to remember they were not really married, at least not in his mind, and certainly not by a minister, so he would need to refrain from touching her in any manner, even if it killed him.
“Very well.” His heart lurched as if he just sealed his own fate, and not necessarily in a pleasant manner.
“Thank you. I promise you will not be sorry.”
There was a sly gleam in Miss Clark’s eye. What was she thinking? At that moment, he suspected he would most certainly be sorry for agreeing to the mad scheme.
“When shall we be handfasted?” She directed the question to Mrs. McGregor.
Timothy chose to answer. “We will finish packing up the shop tomorrow. We will leave the day after and be handfasted right before we begin our trip.” He wanted to put this off as long as possible. As long as he was not joined to her in any manner, he could trust himself not to touch her.
Chapter 2
Timothy shut the door to the Gentleman’s Room for privacy. Miss Clark was busy in the back storage room crating additional books. Until a few moments ago she had worked diligently by his side for three hours. He didn’t think she would ever go to another room so he could retrieve and pack the secret books. Not only did she make it difficult to concentrate, the fragrance of lilacs surrounded her. He would never be able to walk by a bush in bloom again without thinking of her. Her scooped neckline was just as distracting. Even if it was fashionable, that type of gown was meant to be worn while a lady was sitting or standing, not bent over packing books into crates. So many, too many times he looked over and was given full view of her breasts. The creamy globes strained to be released and he would like nothing better than to assist them and discover the dusky color of the nipple beneath, but he controlled himself. Timothy was surprised he did have so much control but was glad for it. It gave him hope that he could make this journey with Miss Clark with her innocence still intact.
He marched across the room and slid the panel open and stepped back. The shelf was empty. There was a layer of dust on the shelf in front of where the books should have been, and a thin trail through the dust where the bindings of books had been pulled forward.
Timothy looked to the door. Had Miss Clark known about these books? Had she already packed them up? He glanced around the room. This was the only place they had not packed and the books still lined the shelves, so what had become of the tomes on the secret shelf?
Surely Miss Clark hadn’t discovered them, or had she? If she had, did she read them, maybe destroy them? Maybe someone else had taken them. If he owned a bookstore and had a daughter the age of Miss Clark, he would make arrangements for the books to disappear if something were to happen to him. That must be what had occurred. He certainly could not ask about them because they were never on the inventory.
Disappointment worked its way inside him. He had barely glanced through them before and had hoped to delve deeper. A man couldn’t have too much information when it came to the various ways to bring pleasure to a woman, or offer suggestions for himself he may have never considered.
Perhaps one day he would locate a collection for himself and it was probably best he didn’t have them to read now. His own imagination was more than enough for what he would like to do with and to Miss Clark while they traveled. Reading of other ways would only increase his frustration. He would search out similar volumes when Miss Clark was no longer in his life and when he finally had his lust under control.
Timothy slid the panel back in place, grabbed a crate and began boxing more books. Would the wagon he hired to follow him to Middleton be large enough? He could send the books ahead of him so that they were waiting at the estate, but there was no small fortune in books and he loathed to have them too far away. The vast collection was irreplaceable and he had been lucky to come across the advertisement when the store and its contents went up for sale.
* * *
Katrina settled into the middle of her bed and began reading through the secret books. Tomorrow morning she would be handfasted to Strotham and begin their journey. She didn’t want to contemplate the possibility of not being given the position of governess. What would she do if that happened? She couldn’t return here and would need to find another position. But it was something she would think about later. There were more important matters on her mind now.
Strotham knew nothing about the books spread out on her bed because they had not been for sale. She wondered what he would think of a proper lady reading such educational information or viewing such detailed drawings. No doubt he would be shocked but she needed to learn everything she could about seduction. She had only three days to experience everything that could happen between a man and a woman and didn’t want to waste one precious moment of their travel time.
She picked up one of the books that contained nothing but drawings. The first pages showed a naked man and she studied it further. So, that was a cock. It looked rather odd. How did a gentleman hide such a large part of his anatomy in his pants? Never once had she ever suspected it would be this big and wondered if the drawings were exaggerated because if they were accurate, men’s pants would have a bulged front and not be smooth, wouldn’t they?
At least the drawing of the woman was more accurate except Katrina’s hips were not as round; at least she didn’t think so.
Katrina rose from her bed and walked to the mirror. She placed the book open on the dressing table, pulled her gown over her head, followed by the chemise, and stood as naked as the lady in the drawing. Her breasts were just as large, but they didn’t hang as low. Did gentlemen prefer them lower or higher, or did they even have a preference? She placed her hands under each and lifted them up, turning one way and then the other. She hadn’t really examined her body in such detail before and was surprised at the weight. The nipples of the woman in the picture were erect whereas her own were almost flat. She knew they could become erect because it happened often enough when she was cold after bathing or in the chill of her chamber in the winter. Perhaps the artist chose to draw the woman cold. Puckered nipples did seem more attractive than warm ones.
She pinched each of her own with her finger and thumb to see if she could mold them in a more attractive shape. It actually worked and even more surprising, it was pleasant. Would it be this pleasurable if Lord Strotham touched and pinched them?
Katrina turned the page. The man from the first drawing was now with the woman from the second. His cock pointed straight out from his body. She flipped the page back to the woman and studied her a bit more. Katrina’s stomach was flat and her waist narrower. The woman in the picture was rounded and looked as if she would be soft, pillowy. Is that what men liked? Would Strotham not find her attractive? Maybe she should eat more but doubted she could put on the necessary pounds by the time they reached Willanton. At least her womanhood was shielded by the same type of curls though her thighs weren’t as thick. She could only hope the woman in the picture was not the ideal woman for Strotham.
Katrina turned more pages and stopped when she came to the one where the man had his mouth on the woman’s breast and a hand on the other.
What would it be like if Strotham kissed her there? She squeezed her own nipple again and a small jolt of pleasure shot to her nether regions. Interesting.
A few more pages in showed the man leaning over the woman, who reclined on a settee. His mouth was still on her breast but his fingers were in the woman’s curls. Katrina had looked at the pictures before, but not really studied them in this manner. She assumed that one day she would marry and her husband would do similar things and she would learn from him. But, given Strotham didn’t even act like he would like to kiss her, Katrina needed to learn everything she could. Maybe he didn’t know any more about copulation than she did so if she was going to have to seduce him it was best that at least one of them had an idea of how to go about it.
She slid her hand down her stomach and continued until her own fingers were within her curls. Now what? She knew that the joining took place with his member somewhere between her thighs but why were the man’s fingers and hands there? Katrina explored further and parted her folds. She quickly glanced around the room to make sure nobody could see her. The curtains were already drawn against the dark night and her bedroom door was closed. Not that anyone else was staying within her living quarters above the shop.
Her exploration didn’t clear anything up for her and she removed her hand. Maybe it was different if a man touched her there. Or, maybe the man in the picture had to search for the place where he would join with the woman. That made more sense than anything.
Katrina pulled her nightshift o recler head. She knew her own body well enough. She needed to research about a gentleman so she could seduce Strotham good and proper.
Chapter 3
Had he lost his mind? Timothy could not believe he was getting handfasted to Miss Katrina Clark. It seemed like the whole town had turned out for the event and formed a circle around them. The entire ceremony was foreign and he was still a bit shocked the minister was the one who performed it. One would think he, of all people, would insist on things being done right and proper. Instead, he knotted the ribbons around their wrists, binding them together.
The guests parted as the couple made their way toward the loaded carriage but they were stopped just before entering the street by having to jump over a broom.
“Normally this would be placed before the door of your house,” Mrs. McGregor explained. “But as you two are leaving town, we thought it best to place it in front of the carriage.”
“Why the broom?”
“You just jump it to begin your life together.” She shrugged and Timothy suspected they all knew what was supposed to happen during a handfasting ceremony but no idea as to the reasons. Besides, he wasn’t beginning a life with Katrina, he was beginning a year and a day.
Katrina hiked her skirts and when she was ready they both jumped to the cheers of those surrounding them.
He helped her up into the carriage and followed immediately behind. There wasn’t much slack in the ribbon and until they were untied he would not be able to move very far from his current and temporary wife.
Someone closed the carriage door behind them and the coach lurched forward.
What had he just done?
Katrina turned toward him and she rested her hand on his leg. “Thank you so much for agreeing to this. I promise to not be difficult on this journey.”
She already was a problem. Her hand burned an imprint onto this thigh. Most well-bred women would not touch a gentleman in such a manner and it only went to prove how innocent she was and that she thought of him as nothing more than a friend or traveling companion. Certainly not as a man.
“It is my pleasure, Miss Clark.” He shifted, hoping she took her hand away.
“Miss Clark?” She laughed. “Given the circumstances, you really should call me Katrina.”
“Very well, Katrina.” He nodded his head in her direction and wished she would move her blasted hand.
She watched him expectantly.
“Is something on your mind?”
“Do I have leave to address you by your first name?”
“Yes, of course.” His throat tightened and he needed to move away from her. His free hand began working at the ribbons. “My Christian name is Timothy.”
A smile burst on her lips. “Oh, I already knew your name. It is strong and suits you. It means God’s honor. Mine means pure.” She made a face as if she didn’t approve.
Timothy latched onto the meaning. If he kept in mind that his temporary wife was pure he would be able to avoid touching and spoiling her. Or so he hoped.
His fingers worked harder at trying to undo the knots but it was difficult with only one hand.
“We aren’t supposed to remove them.”
“Ever?” Surely she jested. If not, no wonder the handfasting was no longer in practice.
qNot until we retire for the night.” A blush formed across her cheeks.
Since he had no intention of retiring with her he saw no point in keeping their wrists tied. They were simply a symbol and nothing else. “We have hours of travel ahead of us and if we walk into the inn in Edinburgh like this they will assume this to be a real wedding ni. . .” Oh, he didn’t want to use the word night because of what it implied. “That, well, that we are married.”
“We are.”
“Yes, but only for a year and a day so that we can travel together. It isn’t as if we plan to, well, . . .let me see, . . it is kind of like a marriage of convenience.”
“In other words, you don’t plan on consummating the marriage.”
His face burned and was probably as red as hers was a few moments ago, which was most disconcerting. He couldn’t believe she came right out and asked such a question. He would like nothing better than to consummate the marriage and he would if this were a real marriage. “I think it is best if we keep to our own rooms.”
Katrina frowned and settled back in her seat, yet she made no effort to help him untie the blasted knots that kept them together. There had to be at least a dozen different ribbons. Several ladies brought at least one and insisted on adding their own for good luck.
She toyed with one of the loose ribbons at her wrist while he worked on the others, her face turned toward the opposite window. What was she thinking? Had she intended on them becoming husband and wife in truth? Surely she realized that was a mistake. One day she may marry and having been handfasted and without a husband after a year was just as bad as being divorced, wasn’t it? It was for her own good.
* * *
The man was impossible. The longer he had to work at the ribbons the longer she could remain next to him and she was not about to help. She put her hand on his thigh, something no proper young lady would ever do, yet he didn’t even notice. The way he was working at those knots indicated he wanted to be as far away from her as possible. If he were far away, how could she seduce him and why was he against consummating the marriage anyway? She was more than willing. Why didn’t he want her? She had assumed for most gentlemen that almost any willing lady would do, but apparently Timothy was different.
This was day one, tonight they would stay in Edinburgh. Tomorrow, she assumed, they would head south and spend the night at inns at least two more times. That gave her three nights to accomplish her goal. It wasn’t much, especially when he refused to cooperate.
Wait, he said Edinburgh. The coaching route she assumed they would take didn’t even take them close to Edinburgh. “Why are we going to Edinburgh?
He looked up at her, but didn’t stop working at the knots. “I have a friend there that I promised to see and more books I purchased before I traveled to Blackrig. I need to add them to the wagon.”
“Did you buy out another shop?”
“No. A professor passed away and his son decided to sell the man’s collection. It is very impressive.”
“And you intend to turn around and sell them in Middleton, much like you plan to do with my father’s books.” She knew they were no longer her father’s but she still couldn’t help thinking of the crat
es of books as just that.
Timothy paused in his work and peered up at her. “Actually, I’ve considered opening just a lending library. Many of the books I have not had an opportunity to read and I would hate to let them go permanently before I had the opportunity. Besides, most working class people cannot afford to buy books, but they can afford subscriptions. It may be best this way.”
“Why Middleton? Are you from there?” Perhaps if she could keep him talking long enough he would forget about those ribbons and thus, be unable to get very far away from her.
“I visited a few times as a child. It has been many years.”
“Yet you plan to open a lending library? What if they already have one?”
“They don’t. I already checked.”
Drat, he went back to working at the knots. “If you haven’t been there all these years, why decide to settle there? What if you don’t like it?”
He paused again and looked up at her. “My uncle left me a small estate. It does not support itself so I will need funds to get by on.”
“That was very generous of your uncle.”
“He didn’t have any children of his own and since I am the youngest son in my family he thought I would benefit most.”
“How many children are in your family?”
“That is one ribbon gone.” He tossed a pale pink ribbon to the opposite seat and began working on another. “I am the youngest of four sons. I also have an older sister and two younger sisters.”
Katrina sat back. “Seven children, how lucky you are.” She would have loved to have had at least one sibling, but it had only been she and her father.
“I understand you were an only child?”
Katrina sighed. “Yes. My mother died when I was young and father never remarried.”
A yellow ribbon came loose next and Timothy tossed it onto the seat with the pink one. At this rate he would be free of her within the hour.
