He stole glances at her too. What a puzzle his wife was. She could be such an agreeable, sweet woman, and then behave stubbornly to her detriment. He’d barely held his temper as he cut a switch, but once he had it, he calmed and set his face to teaching her a necessary lesson. He’d been hard on her, but a second offense warranted stricter punishment. With her safety at stake…
In time he finished his letters but continued to scribble aimlessly on a discarded sheet of paper. He was enjoying this domestic afternoon together as the cold winds blew outside and didn’t wish it to end. When his wife forgot her sore bottom and lost herself in concentration, he discovered that her lips pursed and her forehead wrinkled in a charming way. Now and again she bit her lip, that sweet, uncertain mannerism. He found himself sketching her expressions in clumsy lines, but they changed so quickly it was impossible to catch them before they were gone. He gave up and smudged out the drawings, and tossed the scribbled page in the bin.
“What are you reading, Jane?” he asked, setting aside his pen.
“A book of poetry.” She showed him the cover.
“Poetry about nature?”
“No, poetry about love.”
He could see the blush rise in her cheeks all the way across the room. Jane and her affinity for love.
He stood and crossed to her, and sat next to her on the divan. “It’s a bit late to walk out to the woods, but perhaps we can stop by the kitchen before dinner to visit your pets.”
“Would you like to?” she asked in surprise.
“Yes, I would. I’ve been missing the charming Mr. Cuddles.”
This jest made her smile. All through dinner, in fact, he tried hard to improve her mood so she’d be willing to warm his bed that night. She might find it perverse, but when he punished her, he found himself wanting her even more than usual. If she allowed him, he’d show her there were much more exciting things in life than love poetry.
When dinner ended, they retired to their separate bedrooms as usual to undress, bathe, and prepare for bed. After an adequate amount of time had passed, and he heard Matilda leave for the servants’ quarters, he stepped across the hall to see how his presence might be received. Her sitting room was dark and empty, so he tapped at her bedroom door. The slight pressure nudged it open, revealing his wife at the window with her profile bathed in moonlight. When she turned, the light bathed her whole face and washed her pale orange hair to silver. Her expression was neither welcoming nor damning, but something in between.
“May I come in?” he asked. “You can refuse me if you’d rather.”
“But you’re my husband.”
“Still. May I come in?”
She nodded, crossing toward the turned-down bed. He’d developed a love for tumbling his enthusiastic wife onto the sheets and she seemed prepared for him to do it, but tonight he decided he would move more slowly. He still wasn’t entirely sure she wanted him here—just hours ago, he’d striped her bottom with a switch. Now, he wanted to teach her a different sort of lesson, but not if she was ambivalent to his presence, his touch. He stood near her beside the bed and leaned down to meet her gaze.
“You look pretty by moonlight,” he said. “What were you looking at?”
“The trees against the sky. Would you like to see?”
They moved back to the window together and she pointed out the line of bare, twisted trees silhouetted in black against the moonlit clouds. It was a trick of perspective and Somerton’s rolling landscape; all of nature appeared spookily needful, as if the bare branches groped for the sky.
“I didn’t know if you would come,” she said, turning to him in the silence. “I didn’t know if you were still angry with me.”
“I was never angry.” He took her face between his fingers, tracing along her chin. “I was concerned for your wellbeing and safety.”
“I’m still feeling sorry.” She reached back to furtively rub her bottom.
“And sore, I warrant.” He brushed aside her loose, soft locks and tilted her head up, and kissed her with a questing gentleness. You see, I can be as tender as I am strict. She responded with a sigh of pleasure, or perhaps relief. Did she imagine any breach of behavior would keep him from her bed more than a few hours? When she was such a delectable, enthusiastic partner?
Tonight, he would teach his delectable partner that couples could make love while gazing into each other’s eyes.
He pulled away to gaze at her now. “Before we know it, the trees will be sprouting leaves, and the air will grow warmer.” And we’ll return to London, and everyone will see us together, and I’ll have to see Ophelia on Wescott’s arm. He must have frowned because she looked at him questioningly.