“Why does it mean so much to you?” she asked. “This quest for respectability?”
“Because it was my only chance of being good enough to win you.” His gaze then was so intense, so raw, she could hardly hold it, but she did. If he could exercise such control, so could she. If he had to spank her to fulfill his need for respectability, she would try to submit to that need, if it would only take a little of his torturous tension away.
“Do you want to spank me now?” She forced herself to ask it. “For sending you those letters and refusing to let you in my room?”
He let his breath out in a long, slow hiss. “You’re brave to ask that.”
“I’m doing it out of love for you.”
“I know.”
He stared at her lips as she sat still, preparing herself for the unpleasantness of another spanking. Would he use one of the other tools in that box? A strap, birch, or cane? She bowed her head, resigned.
But instead of proceeding with a punishment, he uttered a curse, a very bad word she’d only heard her papa say once, when a horse had trod on his boot. When she looked up at him in question, he took her face between his fingers and drew her lips to his.
She had to realign her composure, from the dread of expecting punishment to the breathless pleasure of Marlow’s lustful assault. She was helped along by the feel of his hard, masculine torso pressed all along hers. His arms came around her, squeezing her, as his ardent kiss conquered any resistance. She held his shoulders, twining her fingers into his hair which had come loose from its usual neat queue.
This kiss was not like the kiss he’d given her in Lord Townsend’s hothouse. That seemed a dream, a thousand miles away. Nor was it like the kiss he’d given her after he’d paddled her a few days ago. That had been hot, hard, and frustrated, and she’d been too sore-bottomed to enjoy it.
No, this kiss was something completely different. It was yearning and worshipful. It was a recognition of the bond between them, the life’s bond that had always been there, though Rosalind had been craven enough to question it. How silly of her. She must burn the harping notes she’d slid under the door to him. They had been petty, full of misunderstanding.
When he pushed her back upon her bed, she didn’t resist. Men and women must lie down together to prevent annulment of their marriage. He’d told her so and she didn’t want her father or anyone to take this deep connection away from them. They were meant to be together, and it wasn’t only his kiss that made her feel that way.
Although the kiss was so nice. He had gentled the fervor of his passion, transformed their embrace from fire to bliss. He lay beside her, one of his legs wrapped about hers, and kissed her lips and neck and eyes, stopping now and again to gaze down at her and brush back her hair, which had come almost completely loose from her clumsy chignon. She’d become careless at sea. The ship rocked and they rocked with it. His arms made her feel safe, and his fingertips traced designs on her skin she’d never imagined.
How was one to know that the skin of her neck was so sensitive, she might feel his caress in the very beating of her veins? How could any innocent maiden know how it felt to have one’s earlobe stroked and nibbled until her middle felt heavy enough to burst? He ran fingers down her arms, and she shuddered at the wonder of it, and still he kissed her until her whole body hummed with life. The tips of her breasts felt tender when his arm brushed across them, felt so receptive and keen she gasped in surprise and arched toward him, tightening her arms around his neck.
But he seized her arms and made her let him go. He uttered another curse, worse than the last one, then apologized for it, lying her arms upon her chest and drawing a bit away. She felt disappointed but she could see in his face that to go further might be unwise. And that is my love for you…
“I love you,” she said foolishly, as if it might comfort him, but he did seem a little comforted.
“My darling.” He stroked fingers down her cheek, tracing back and forth as if there were some mystery there to know, to uncover. He was all mystery, with his body hard and tense beside hers. “We must stop there. It’s not good to go too far…yet.”
“Before we are married, you mean?”
“Yes. Unmarried people shouldn’t behave so. You know that. We’re not so far from home that you’ve forgotten English proprieties.”
“No. We’d have to travel very far away for that, although when you kiss me, I do forget a little.”
He wet his lips as if he’d like to kiss her again, but he held himself back.
“We’ve lain down together now though, haven’t we?” she said on a brighter note. “So my father can’t have our marriage annulled.”
“Well, as I said, it’s a different sort of lying down. I don’t think I can tell you about it now,” he added, holding his middle section stiffly away from her as he shifted to a sitting position.
“Why not?” she asked, worried for him.
“It’s just…we ought to wait until we’re married. Respectability, you know. It’s not merely lying down in a bed next to one another. More things happen, things of an intimate nature, which I will teach you when I’m your true husband.”
“What kinds of things?” She was wildly curious. What could be more intimate than the kisses and caresses they’d just shared?
“Someday you’ll know, when the time is right,” he promised, helping her sit too. “In the meantime, I’ll continue to exercise control. It does get easier with practice.”
She tried to tame her hair. She felt shy and scattered now that their kiss was done, and they were sitting up properly again. “Will you…” She felt herself blushing. “Will you destroy those comical missives I sent you earlier? Tear them into pieces and fling them into the sea? I was very confused and emotional when I wrote them.”
He stretched his legs before him, hiding a smile. “They may make a charming keepsake one day.”
She was torn between protesting this idea and staring at the muscles flexing beneath his trousers’ well-fitting legs. “I wish you wouldn’t keep them to tease me with. I’ve crumpled yours into a ball.”
“Perhaps I’ll destroy them after we’re married. Though I doubt it.” He laughed at her pointed frown. “I’m already married to you in my heart, silly thing. We can’t reverse this now. You can’t change your mind and go home, or get away from me at this point, ever. You’re right here.” He patted his chest, where his heart powered his spirit. Goodness, his declaration was almost like love poetry, which she supposed was a good enough trade for her notes.
He took her hand while she committed his romantic words to memory. Right here. You’re right here.
“I can’t give you a ring, not yet,” he continued. “And we can’t be married as we ought to, but we’re married enough, aren’t we?”
He was asking her, but she thought perhaps he was really asking himself.