The floor was slate but made cozy with colorful rugs. A fire had been set in the fireplace, all ready to light. The kitchen contained a cast-iron stove, also readied for lighting, and a large table. Glancing out the back door, she saw a short path leading to an outhouse, which she made quick use of.
She washed her hands at an outdoor pump, and then explored the cottage. One of the bedrooms contained a large double bed, made up with soft blankets, fine linen and a beautiful satin-edged eiderdown. She sat on the bed—a new mattress, if she wasn’t mistaken. In fact, the bed itself was too big and grand for a cottage like this. James must have furnished the whole cottage from scratch.
She swallowed. He’d gone to a lot of trouble. She hoped it would be worth it. Hoped she would be worth it.
She’d started shaking again.
“Well, what do you think?” James asked, setting down the valises and a large wicker basket. “I know it’s small and simple, but I thought you’d be more comfortable with no strange servants and no neighbors. It’s a five-minute walk into the village, and the post chaise and postilion will be waiting there, so whenever you want to leave, I’ll walk in and fetch them.”
She pressed her shaking hands together—she could do this, she could—and smiled. “It’s lovely.”
He took a tinderbox from the shelf above the fireplace and in a few minutes the fire was alight. “Won’t be long before the room warms up.”
She nodded. It wasn’t cold that was making her shake. When had she become such a coward? She done this hundreds of times with Thaddeus. It couldn’t be any worse.
But that wasn’t what she was so frightened of.
This was make-or-break. Either she could bear to be bedded by James, or she couldn’t. If she could, she would marry him. If it was as it had been with Thaddeus—proving that she was the one at fault—she couldn’t marry James.
Oh, she was sure he’d say it didn’t matter, but she knew it would, and she couldn’t bear to see him grow more and more disappointed with a cold wife who shrank from him in bed. And then he would turn to a mistress, and she couldn’t bear that, either.
“Are you hungry? I’ll put on the kettle and organize something to eat.” He disappeared into the kitchen, and she could hear him getting out crockery and clattering quietly about. She ought to be the one seeing to it, not him, but she couldn’t even think about food at the moment.
She couldn’t think about anything at all. Except for that big bed.
She glanced out the window. It was still raining, and the dismal gray light coming through the windows gave her no idea of the time. How long until the evening? An endless, unbearable wait.
Perhaps she could force herself to enjoy it—or at least make James think she enjoyed it.
No, she was not prepared to be dishonest in that way. To start a marriage with such dishonesty would be to invite further cracks and deceptions. She couldn’t do it.
She paced up and down in front of the fire. She wanted to throw up. So much depended on what happened in that big bed tonight.
“You’re not the slightest bit interested in food, are you?” She whirled around. He stood in the doorway watching her. His voice deepened. “You’re driving yourself mad with imaginary worries.”
She couldn’t think of a thing to say. Her worries weren’t imaginary.
“Give me a minute.” He disappeared back into the kitchen.
What was he thinking? She had no idea.
He was back in two minutes. “You need to have a little faith,” he said and pulled her gently toward him.
“I do have faith in you,” she said tremulously.
He cupped her face in one hand and gave her one of those slow smiles that never failed to melt her bones. “I meant, faith in yourself.” He stroked her cheek with his thumb. “I have every faith in you, Alice. But I can see that you need to be convinced. Can I assume you have no appetite for food at the moment?”
She nodded. “Good,” he said, and lowered his mouth to hers.
Chapter Fifteen
Oh, the glory of James’s kisses. Kissing. Why had it taken her so long to learn? Thaddeus had never kissed her, not like this. She was glad that James was her first.
With lips and tongue, he gently pressed her lips apart. His tongue stroked the inside of her mouth in a leisurely, sensual exploration. Every tiny motion thrummed through her body and gathered momentum. Warm shivers rippled through her, building with each stroke, pooling in the deepest recesses of her body.
She pressed her hands against his chest and slid them higher, stroking his jaw, feeling the faint underlying masculine roughness of bristles in a friction that delighted her, breathing in the scent of him even as the dark, masculine taste of him filled her senses.
She tried to copy the things he was doing with his tongue, only they dazzled her so that she couldn’t concentrate, only feel. And respond without thought or purpose.
Pleasure.
She slid her fingers through his hair and pressed herself against him—thigh against thigh, belly to belly, breast against chest. Her knees felt suddenly weak. A long shudder rippled down her spine, some deep hollow within her aching for . . . for what, she had no idea. Only a need for which she had no name . . . She clutched his shoulders, leaning against him.
He shifted his grip and swung her up off her feet. She squeaked in surprise, and he smiled. “Time to move into the bedroom.”
Oh. The heat drained out of her. The kissing was over. It was time for the . . . the other.
He set her on her feet beside the bed, then sat on the other side of the bed and pulled off his boots and stockings. He stood to remove his coat, then swiftly unbuttoned his waistcoat. He draped his coat over the rail at the end of the bed and folded the waistcoat over it. She watched as he dragged his fine white-linen shirt over his head, shook it out, then draped it over the rail.
He wore no undershirt—his chest was bare and hard with a dusting of dark hair and two small, hard nipples. She tried not to stare, but she couldn’t help herself. She hadn’t known that men had nipples. His arms were powerful, strong and sinewy, his forearms sunburned.
She stood unmoving, gazing across the bed at him. Her mouth dried.
His mouth curved in an understanding smile. “Do you need help with that dress?”
Flushing at being caught staring, she nodded. She’d anticipated this part, and knew she’d be disrobing without her maid to help, but she hadn’t expected to be undressing in front of him. Even less that he would undress in front of her. She turned her back. “Just untie the bow at the top and loosen the laces, please.” She could manage from there.
Deftly he untied her laces, and swiftly pulled them not just loose but free. Cool air whispered down her spine, warm fingers brushed against her skin. She shivered, not quite understanding why. She wasn’t cold.