Sighing, William drained his whiskey glass and left the room. Time to perform his marital duty.
* * *
A light tapping at the door startled Lisa, then William stepped inside, his handsome face unreadable. Despite her unease, she rushed to him, smiling with shy delight as her heart hammered in her chest. Surely he must see its beating.
Bringing a cold draft of air with him, her husband smelled of tobacco and musk. Much to her alarm, he also smelled of liquor, and she recalled he'd had several drinks after the guests had left the reception. His woolen bathrobe was tied at his waist, his gray nightshirt trailing below it, black leather slippers on his feet. Hands tucked in his pockets, he gave her a critical look, his glance sweeping from her gown's high neckline to her bare feet.
A rush of heat enveloped her as she saw the brazen interest in his eyes, prompting her to wonder what would happen next.
"Why aren't you wearing a bathrobe?" he asked, his gaze lingering on her breasts.
"Well . . . I . . ."
"Never mind." He shrugged, raking his fingers through his blonde hair. All husbandly solicitude, he let his keen glance sweep over the bedroom. "Do you like the way I've furnished your bedroom, dear?" he asked in his nasal voice. "You can have another room, if you want."
"Everything is lovely, William, and I do appreciate what you've done for me--the furniture and everything." She saw how his look slid from her breasts all the way down to her hips, his hands tugging at the collar of his robe, then tightening the sash, his fingers brushing across his forehead. Puzzled by his gestures, she focused on his words. "I love this room, William, truly."
"Good. I'm glad you like it." He smiled with satisfaction and nodded toward the bathroom. "I must tell you, your bathroom is the most modern one in the mansion. You even have your own shower. How about that?" Licking his lips, he rubbed his hands together.
"Everything is fine," she repeated, at a loss to understand why he should be nervous.
"Then that's taken care of." He untied his robe and slipped it off, then tossed it onto a chair. Virginal shyness brought a rush of warmth to her cheeks, but she resolved not to avert her face. My goodness, she'd never seen a man clad only in his nightshirt.
His fingers grazed her cheek, a speculative look on his face. "Lisa . . . now I . . . we . . . since we're married now . . .” He left the sentence unfinished and took her by the arm, leading her to the bed. "Lisa, dear, since you're my wife now, I can take liberties that were denied me during our courtship."
After pushing the woolen afghan back, he eased her onto the bed, then lay down next to her. "After all, I'm your husband now," he said with a redundancy that only increased her disquiet. He drew her close and pressed a hard, wet kiss on her mouth, a kiss that did nothing for her, a kiss that left her with no emotion save a nagging anxiety that she should feel something. He squeezed her breast, his fingers rough.
Before her marriage, she'd known that the marriage bed held many secrets, but she'd never imagined this awkward pawing, this painful groping. The scent of musk overwhelmed her, mingling with the smell of tobacco and whiskey on his breath.
With a swift glance from under her lashes, she saw his reddened face. In the room's silence with only the sound of the crackling fire, she heard his panting breaths, as if he struggled to accomplish some difficult physical task. He pinched her nipple, and the pain made her gasp--
"William, you're hurting me!"
He sank back on the pillow. Despite her nervousness, Lisa's heart went out to him. She wished she could say or do something to make him feel better.
She reached a tentative hand toward him. "William . . . I . . .”
He shook his head. "Don't say anything." He paused, a slight twist to his lips. "I . . . I fear I've had too much to eat and drink," he said, touching his stomach. "Feel slightly unwell. Best I leave you alone." Without another word, he rose from the bed and grabbed his bathrobe, then stalked away, leaving the scent of musk behind. He opened the door, another rush of arctic air sweeping into the room. But that was nothing compared to the coldness in her heart.
"Goodnight, dear," he said before he left the room, then closed the door behind him.
Bewildered by William's words, but especially by his strange behavior at this special time, Lisa turned onto her back. Why had he drunk so much on their wedding night, an event he surely must have anticipated as much as she? Didn't he want to take her as his wife? How little she knew about these intimate matters.
After a long period of painful reflection, she tried to smile, her natural optimism coming to her defense. This was only the first night of their marriage, for heaven's sake, only the beginning. Finding a dubious comfort in that premise, she glanced at her bedside clock, surprised to see how late it was. She pulled the afghan closer to her chin, inhaling the lavender-scented sheets, thankful for the hot water bottle her maid had left in the bed.
As she made a mental note of all the familiar objects, she reassured herself that everything would look better in the morning . . . more promising. She stretched across the bed, her nightgown pulled taut, and turned the valve of the bronze gas lamp to extinguish the light. Staring up at the ceiling, she vowed she wouldn't be discouraged. Surely by tomorrow William would be loving and affectionate again, and of course they had many more nights to share. For the rest of their lives.
Chapter Four
Within the elegant comfort of Elizabeth Hunter's parlor, Lisa made small talk while she struggled to find the best way to relate her marital problems. Despite her earlier optimism, too many troubles had plagued her since her wedding night a few weeks ago. Elizabeth, several years older than she and with a tall, willowy figure, ivory skin and jet black hair, looked much like an aristocrat, or maybe an actress, Lisa mused with kindly speculation. However, Elizabeth was most down-to-earth, a warm, considerate person, one Lisa was happy to call her best friend.
Lisa took a deep breath. "Elizabeth, do you mind if I ask you a personal question?"
Elizabeth glanced her way before pouring the steaming hot tea into dainty Sevres cups. "I remember you like a little cream and sugar," she said, handing her the cup. She joined Lisa on the sofa, her hands in her lap, a thoughtful expression on her face. "Since we've been friends for so long, let's hear your question."
"Does Lawrence show you much affection?" Lisa asked as she raised the cup to her mouth. Unconsciously, she held the cup poised by her lips, waiting for her friend's answer.
Elizabeth shot her a startled look.. "Why in heaven's name do you ask?"
"Please just answer, then I'll explain." She set her cup on the parlor table to cool, unable to say anymore as she fiddled with the gold clasp of her alligator handbag. Why had she introduced this painful subject? Too late to back out now.
"Of course he's affectionate," Elizabeth said, lifting her hands. "We love each other very much. That's why we married." She frowned. "Something tells me you didn't visit just to ask about my husband's devotion, so say what you mean, Lisa."
"Well . . ." Lisa turned her head, her gaze drifting to the William Morris wallpaper, counting the rows of flowers and vines. "Give me time to gather my thoughts," she murmured.
The silence lengthened as Elizabeth sipped her tea. "Since we're being frank, let me ask you something." She paused. "Doesn't William show you any tenderness?"
Slowly, Lisa shook her head. She looked out the window, seeing the branches of the linden trees heavy with newly-fallen snow. Sighing, she faced her friend. "No love or tenderness at all.” Turning away, she bit her lip.
The logs in the fireplace hissed and sputtered, radiating a warm glow, yet she felt nothing but cold in her heart.
"You mean," Elizabeth asked, "he just takes you in bed without kissing or cuddling you first?"
"No, he doesn't," she blurted. "He . . . he doesn't do anything." She spoke on a rush of words. "William doesn't seem interested in me at all, only as his hostess and the woman who manages his household. We don't even go to plays or conce
rts, only to parties and dinners, to meet the people who matter, as William says." She tried to keep the sarcasm from her voice.
"And oh! I don't understand these things. My husband has never done anything to me--whatever a man and woman do together in bed. But Elizabeth, I've seen him look at me when he thinks I don't notice. I see the expression in his eyes, as if he wants to kiss me." Her heart thudded against her tight corset like a trapped bird trying to escape its cage. "So why doesn't he? How I've wanted him to kiss me, to show me he cares."
A stillness captured the room. Elizabeth gave her a warm smile, her face showing concern. "Tell me something. Do you love William?"
Her head lowered, Lisa smoothed her black alpaca skirt. "I thought I could learn to love him in time. I know I can learn to love him, but there must be more between us than casual talk and social activities. I want to have a good marriage--a happy one, and children. I'll do anything to have a satisfying marriage, but I think William should show me affection."
"I agree." Elizabeth sighed. "Well, I--"
"Suppose he has a mistress," Lisa said. Some men had mistresses. Even she knew that, although she wasn't sure what function the other woman served. "He'd better not! I won't stand for it."
"Unfortunately, there is that possibility," Elizabeth said in cautious tones. "Listen, why don't I tell Lawrence about your marriage and--"
Lisa sat up straight. "No! Don't tell your husband!"
"Very well, I won't," Elizabeth said, waving her hand dismissively. "I thought perhaps he might have some ideas, a man's viewpoint, you know. I promise not to say anything if you don't want me to, but something must be done about your marriage. You can't go on like this."
"You think I don't know that! Can you imagine what it's like to have no devotion from my own husband, not even to know what happens between a man and a woman in bed?" She reached for her cup to drink the remainder of her lukewarm tea.
Elizabeth sat back.. "You honestly don't know what happens in the marriage bed?"
"No," she whispered, ashamed to admit her ignorance--she, who'd been married for several weeks. Her cheeks warmed.
Elizabeth leaned forward, speaking in a low voice. "You know a man is made differently than a woman, don't you?"
"Yes, of course." Lisa clenched her hands in her lap. She shifted her position on the sofa, her corset squeezing her like a vise.
"Well, then . . ." Elizabeth whispered all the intimate details in her ear while Lisa listened in shocked amazement, her face burning.
"Lawrence and I take precautions to prevent pregnancy," Elizabeth went on. "We're rather broad-minded, you see."
"Broad-minded?"
Elizabeth smiled. "I mean we don't feel bound by the normal constraints of society. We both think it's wonderful to have an intimate relationship for the sake of expressing our love. You don't have to experience the physical aspect of marriage solely for the purpose of having children. We may not have any children at all, not if we don't want any."
"Really?" Lisa shook her head, each revelation adding to her confusion.
Elizabeth made an airy gesture. "We don't do anything outrageous, you understand, and we do believe in marital fidelity. By the way, not all married couples are stiff and strait-laced. You'd be surprised how many others think as we do."
Lisa's gaze swept the room, then settled on the fireplace, her eyes riveted on its mesmerizing flames. She turned back to her friend. "You said something about precautions."
"It's called a pessary," Elizabeth said. "Sometimes you can get it at a doctor's office and sometimes at an apothecary. Either way, you're made to feel like a criminal. But I don't care." She shrugged. "Lawrence and I have found happiness and peace of mind."
"I wish I could find happiness and peace of mind," Lisa blurted.
Elizabeth embraced her. "Oh, you will, dear friend, if you only try. I just know it!"
Lisa gathered her things together. "I am trying, believe me. I don't intend to give up."
* * *
With a secret little smile, Lisa slipped into a nightgown of the finest pink lawn, admiring its exquisite embroidery on the cuffs and neckline. Much too sheer for such a cold night, this gown was definitely what she needed for her plan to succeed. She'd lure William into bed!
This time, she'd meet him more than halfway, so there would be no doubt that she wanted him. Maybe that was the matter on our wedding night, she mused as she buttoned her long sleeves. Her husband needed encouragement, needed to know how warm and loving she could be. With a luxuriant sigh, she ran her fingers sensuously through long strands of hair, wishing William were here to touch every part of her body.
Seduce her husband. What a scheme! What did she have to lose? With a deep breath, she straightened her shoulders, then marched to the door and opened it.
The dimly-lit hallway seemed to stretch for miles, and with each step, her courage almost deserted her. She'd often wondered why William's bedroom was so far from hers, and now the painful answer struck her like a blow to the stomach--he wanted complete isolation from her. But she'd change his attitude, show him she could be a caring wife. Their love would develop and grow, if only he'd give their marriage a chance.
His door stood partway open, and as she eased it back farther, she saw William smoking a cigar by the fireplace mantel, his back to her.
"William," she murmured. She inhaled the aroma of cigar smoke, and found she liked its unique fragrance. He'd never smoked a cigar around her before. From now on, she'd always associate this aroma with her husband and this moment.
"William?" she repeated, stepping into the room.
He spun around, then set his cigar in the ashtray and hurried to her. Alarm flashed across his face.
"Lisa, are you all right? You're not ill, are you?" He gave her a worried glance. "You're going to become ill if you don't dress more warmly. Good gracious! That looks like a summer nightgown, not suitable attire for the middle of winter. And not even a bathrobe." He raised his eyebrows. "Did you want to talk about something?"
"Well . . . I . . . no . . ." Licking her bottom lip, she threw a sensual glance at his bed and saw the covers thrown aside, as if he'd been ready to settle for the night. What if she were in bed with him? Her fantasies soared, her heart thudding against her chest. He'd kiss her, touch her passionately, and yes, do that other thing that Elizabeth had revealed.
"Won't you tell me what's troubling you?" he asked with a bewildered expression. "Here," he said, leading her to a chair by the fireplace, "sit down and get warm, then we'll chat for a few minutes if you want to."
Settled in the chair, her hands folded in her lap, she felt like a foolish schoolgirl, called on to recite. Had she made this trip for nothing? She wanted only to lie in bed with him, kissing, cuddling, and yes, indulging in the final intimacy.
William sat on the edge of the bed, his blue eyes steady as they lingered on her breasts. Did she see passion in his eyes? Surely she did. He opened his mouth to say something, then he closed his mouth and shifted his position, leaving her to wonder what went through his mind.
"Lisa, if there's something you want to talk about, say it quickly, because I must go to bed soon. I have much to do tomorrow."
He couldn't spend a few minutes with his wife? Did she mean so little to him? "Very well, William, if that's how you feel." She sprang to her feet and headed for the door. "Sorry to be taking your time. I'll leave right now. After all, I wouldn't want to deprive you of your sleep."
He grasped her arm. "Let's not be childish. Tell me what you came to say."
Get it over with. She drew away from him and stared into the fire. "I . . . I get lonely sometimes. And so I wondered, why don't we spend more time together?"
"Lonely, Lisa? We had dinner together a short while ago, and then we spent some time in the sitting room, as we always do." He shook his head slowly, a trace of mockery in his eyes. "Don't you have enough to keep you busy in the evening or during the day?"
"Of course I have enough to kee
p me busy! I just think we should spend more time together, do more things together, instead of going our separate ways in the evening." She stood by the mantel, her face flaming with such indignation she could hardly find the words. "Just because I want to see more of my husband . . .”She bit her lip, wondering if he caught the double entendre.
Either he didn't or he chose to ignore it. He rose, too, his handsome face set in stone. "I don't know what's the matter with you. You tell me you have enough to keep you occupied. You live in one of the finest houses in Shadyside." He held his hands wide. "I give you money for clothes or anything you desire. You have everything you could possibly want."
"Ah, yes, William. My cup runneth over."
"Don't be sarcastic, Lisa. It doesn't become you." His jaw set, he took her by the arm. "Come now, you shouldn't be about in only your nightgown. Best you go to bed now, where you can stay warm."
Yes! She wanted to lie in bed with him, let him make love to her as she'd dreamed of for so long. Despite her bewilderment, her utter frustration, she found herself warming at his touch. She ached for him to hold her in his arms, kiss her to distraction. Although he spoke with annoyance, she saw the passion in his eyes. Make love to me, darling. Show me how much you care.
"William." Driven by desperation, she pressed close to him, wrapping her arms around his neck. "Why don't we go to bed together?" she whispered in his ear.
He pushed her away, his mouth open with shock. "Now you are behaving like an easy woman. Lisa, I would have thought better of you."
“What!” Face flaming, she jerked back. “I’m your wife!”
“Then act like one.” He led her to the door, and she acquiesced, for she had nothing more to say, nothing else to do. "Now, let's forget we had this chat, shall we? By tomorrow, everything will look different, and you'll wonder what all the fuss was about." Holding the door open, he bent to kiss her forehead. "And let's forget this ever happened," he murmured.
Forbidden Love Page 4
