“Did I frighten you?” Black eyes searched hers for any sign of distress. “I’m sorry.”
Cassandra shook her head. “It was me. I’m not ready.” She took a deep breath and tried to assure him, “It’s not that I don’t want to—I do hope to be a true mistress to you someday—but this is all so new. Can’t we take things slowly?”
“Absolutely,” he said, raising his hand above the counterpane. He traced her cheek with his knuckles, brushing her hair back from her face. “It is not my intention to rush you, Cassandra. I want you with me, not lagging behind. I want you as eager as I am.”
Hot tears burned behind her eyes. She blinked, and they spilled over his fingertips. Must he see her cry? Was her humiliation, her failure not complete?
Could she ever be a proper lover to this wonderful man?
She owed him an explanation. When she spoke, her voice trembled. “Wade, there is something you should know…”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
He’d ruined everything. He had pushed her, taken her earlier enthusiasm for granted. Wade had never known an inexperienced lady, having kept company with low women who welcomed his particular style of lovemaking.
He tried to go slowly, to tread lightly, but she was a gently-bred virgin and he was a brute. He had barely been able to tear himself away. Cassandra Staunton was softness, sweetness, and sensuality incarnate.
‘Wade, there is something you should know…’
He silenced her. “I don’t need a reason. You, of all people, owe me no explanation.”
“But I do!” she said, grabbing for his hands. She squeezed his palms. “You believe I don’t want you, that I don’t wantthis, but that is not true. You ought to know what you’re getting yourself into.”
“Tell me, then.”
“You once spoke of my ‘mysterious woman’s troubles’ but have you any idea what that means? Do you fully understand what happens to women’s bodies each month?”
Some men didn’t, he supposed. Most folk preferred to keep their heads in the sand when it came to the facts of nature, but he had known enough women in his lifetime to sketch a rough picture. “You mope. You bleed. You areindisposed.”
She smiled. “Oh, Wade.”
“Was I so far off the mark?”
“I cannot expect you to understand the intricacies of menstruation, though at least you are not wholly ignorant.” Cassandra settled back against the pillows and made herself comfortable. This was going to be a long lesson. “I never had it easy when I started my menses. It did not take long for my mother to realize that I wasn’t simply being dramatic. I was not trying to skip lessons, dodge chores, or avoid long-winded Sunday services. I could not drag myself from bed. I grew too nauseous to eat, much less cook. I couldn’t make it through the sermon without bleeding through my petticoats.”
Wade sensed her distress, even now. Eve’s Curse was too burdensome for any woman to bear, but he hated to learn the woman he loved suffered more than most.
“When I was fifteen, Mama and Papa took me to a physician in Buxton. They saved all their money in the hopes of finding a diagnosis. They prayed he could cure me. After a brief but humiliating examination, the doctor explained that I was afflicted with dysmenorrhea—painful cramps—and uterine hemorrhaging.
“I found the inspection so horrifyingly intrusive that he told my mother I could never endure a physical consummation. No wedding night for me, I’m afraid.” She laughed bitterly. “Because of my menstrual irregularities, I might never conceive.”
He touched her arm, gently. “Oh, Cassie, I am sorry.”
“You did not believe me before. You didn’t think I could possibly know what I was talking about.”
“I believe you. If you say you hurt, then you hurt. I don’t believe the doctor. I do not thinkheknew whathewas talking about. Naturally, you found the examination distressing. What fifteen-year-old wouldn’t?”
Wade moved closer. He wanted to hold her, to comfort her, but he did not wish to upset her. “He pronounced you frigid, but you’re not. You feel passion. You feel desire. Men are fools when it comes to women, and I think professionals are no different. How dare we presume to know more about the female sex? It is just like those trustees believing they knew better than my mother how to raise me. I shall never forgive those white-whiskered tyrants, and I shall never forgive that doctor.”
She’d been hobbled without ever given the chance to run. Her wings had been clipped when she ought to have been testing the wind, learning to soar.
Wade opened his arms to her, and she settled into his embrace. “How can I help?” he asked. “What can I do to make it easier for you?”
She sighed. “I don’t know. I feel the pains already. I am sore, achy, and tired. Soon, I shall be irritable, nauseous, sick. You may find I am more trouble than you bargained for and wish me gone.”
“Never.”
He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. Her dark curls hung loose, riotous and thick with no need for curl-papers. He loved her so much it hurt. How he wished she could place her burdens upon his shoulders!
