“You were gone,” I whisper.
“We needed more firewood, and I didn’t want to take it from one of the other rooms,” he says.
That’s all it was? Could his side of the bed have cooled so quickly? Or was he roaming through the house or the grounds for some other reason?
Is it really my business what he does in the night? I’m new here, practically a stranger to his routine and habits. It will take a while for us to acclimate to each other. I must not begin our married life with prying questions or accusations.
So I simply say, “I missed you.”
He smiles. “You look cold. You should get back in bed while I take care of this.”
Back in our room, I pull the covers up to my chin while he gets the fire going again. Once he has it burning to his satisfaction, he climbs under the covers with me and pulls my shivering form against his body. Slowly, the fire’s heat penetrates the chill of the air, even as his warmth seeps into my skin.
I cling to him, torn by a nameless dread, by the fear that I will lose him, or that I’ve already lost him and I don’t know it.
Maybe I never really had him at all.
I want to ask for reassurance, but I’m not sure how to form the right question.
Are you going to leave me? Will you ever hurt me? Is this real? Will it last?
Why are you lying? Where did you go?
In the agony of my thoughts I begin kissing him, first his chest and his throat, over and over, then his bearded jaw, then his mouth. There’s a hint of salt and copper on his tongue, a taste of blood. Perhaps he bit his cheek or tongue while sleeping.
Perhaps not.
His hand slides around me, splayed along my waist in a tender hold, but as I continue to kiss him, his fingers move to my hip, then my ass. He shifts closer, his erection prodding against my lower belly.
Under the sheets, I rake up my nightgown and put my fingers into myself, coaxing out more wetness. Then I reach for his undershorts and pull them down in the front, low enough for his cock to emerge. I hook my leg over his hip and notch the head of his cock against my entrance.
Beresford penetrates me, groaning softly, and I sigh in response at the now-familiar sensations of his thickness surging into me, stretching and filling me in that comfortable way. He fucks me with a cozy laziness, firm and slow.
This is the closeness I need, the reassurance I want. When we fucked in the dining room it was wild and hectic, but this is quietly intimate. It’s the physical manifestation of the vows we made to each other.
“Deeper,” I whisper. “Hold me.”
He pulls me closer still, rocking his hips as we lie face to face. In this position it takes longer for him to come, and I find myself sinking into a delicious state of drowsy arousal. Beresford presses his mouth to my forehead while he’s coming inside me, and I spread both hands over his chest so I can feel his heart beating wildly with the ecstasy.
When he pulls out, he turns me carefully onto my back and submerges himself beneath the covers. His hands part my legs, and his bearded lips and jaw nestle into my wetness. With slow, tender licks and cherishing nibbles of my clit, he gives me the softest, sweetest orgasm, one that flows in slow, sleepy thrills through my entire body.
We curl up together again, this time with my back against his chest. Warm and reassured, I let myself drift asleep.
The next day we take our time getting up. Beresford leaves the bed first and brings up a tray with a breakfast of eggs, coffee, and slices of pan-fried sausage. We talk and eat, then go into the game room to set up a new campaign for the game we played last night. This time we choose the extended version, which willtake many hours to complete. We plan to keep it going for a few days.
In the late morning I wash and dress, since I don’t want to meet the household servants in my nightgown. Beresford comes to the doorway of my closet while I’m selecting my clothes. Frowning, he surveys me as I stand there in my corset and panties.
“You look as if you disapprove of something,” I comment.
“Those.” He points to the lacy panties. “Take them off.”
“You want to do this now? The servants will be here soon.”
“I’m not going to fuck you. But for the first week of our marriage, I would rather you keep yourself free for the taking. I want to know that beneath your fine dresses, you are bare for me. Would that please you as well?”
“Yes,” I whisper.
Beresford’s lips curve, the barest hint of a smile. “You’re wet now, just thinking about it, aren’t you?”
