She could see by his sudden flush that he was as mortified by their wedding kiss as she had been. Good. He should suffer for it. ‘It amazes me that a man who has spent as much time as you have steeping in vice at a place full of nude women and lechers has gained nothing from the experience.’
He was already red with anger, but now he reminded her of a pot ready to boil over.
Then let him do so.It was time that he learned what it was like to be the butt of continual criticism instead of the source of it. ‘Perhaps there is someone at your precious club who can explain to you the correct way to kiss a woman. Maybe they have a library with books on the subject. At the very least, you might examine some of the appalling pictures hanging on the walls.’
‘Or perhaps I will simply visit with any woman there. There is not a one of them that would deny me erotic companionship, should I ask for it,’ he retorted, unable to remain silent.
‘Courtesans,’ she said, trying to sound knowing rather than hurt by his inevitable infidelity. ‘That is an excellent idea. If you pay a woman to be affectionate, she will not dare to tell you that you kiss like a dead fish.’
By the dangerous silence that followed her insult, she knew she had pushed him too far. After what seemed like ages, he spoke. ‘I am glad to have your opinion, based on your vast previous experience.’ The comment was delivered in an uninterested tone, as if she had expressed a preference for chicken over fish. Why did it raise gooseflesh on her skin?
He took a step closer to her and she had to fight the urge to run. ‘So you do not like the way I kiss.’
She did not. But by the look in his eyes now, it would be the height of folly to goad him further than she already had.
‘Let me assure you, Georgiana, if and when I want a woman, I do not need to pay for her time. She gives. And I make sure that she is happy to have done so.’
If he looked at them as he was looking at her now, she could imagine any number of women succumbing to whatever he demanded. Why, then, did he not work this magic on her? ‘Prove it,’ she said.
Before she could regret her dare, he closed the distance between them, took her in his arms, and kissed her.
This.
What he was doing to her was not exactly what she had been hoping for in the church. She had expected that the ceremony would end with a gentle seal of his lips on hers to mark the covenant. It would leave her with the same sort of warm glow that one got standing next to a fire on a cool day.
What was happening now was like dancing around a bonfire, while fireworks burst in the night sky above her head. But she must be dancing naked for she could feel the heat of the flames on every inch of her skin. She wanted to touch herself all over, to see if the heat was real, or imagined. Better yet, she wanted to be touched.
His kiss was not a brief brush of lips, but an open-mouthed frenzy. His tongue was in her mouth and hers in his. It should have been horrifyingly invasive. Instead, she opened her mouth wider to receive more of him, as if searching for a way to take his soul into her own body.
While a part of her felt like dancing, another part of her wanted to relax like a cat in a patch of sunshine. Though their mouths were lost in a tumultuous joining, her body was weightless, boneless, and his to mould like clay. She wanted to be what he wanted, to be made over by him into a new person.
His hands released the grip on her arms and moved up, over her shoulders and down her back. By the time they’d reached her hips, she knew every inch of him, as he did her. And yet, by the burning inside her, she was sure there was more to learn.
Despite the forcefulness of his embrace, she felt safe in his arms. Perhaps, in a moment, he would sweep her up in them and carry her up the stairs and into the bedroom. She was still not quite sure what would happen next. But with each passing moment, she was growing more eager to find out.
Then, just as suddenly, he released her. He was panting for breath and his arms were rigid at his sides as though he could not decide whether to reach for her again or push her away. He looked as angry as ever, but confused as well.
Her breathing was as ragged as his and all her glib words had fled. She couldn’t seem to manage more than to blink at him as she waited for his next words.
‘I trust I have established that I am experienced enough to be a satisfactory husband. It is a shame that you do not know enough to be a proper wife.’
Had she done something wrong just now that had proved she was not just inexperienced but unteachable? Or did he truly dislike her so much that he would offer such a kiss just to deny her more as a punishment? If that was the truth, she felt even worse now than she had before.
But to show her feelings would give him more ammunition to hurt her with. ‘Are you a satisfactory husband?’ She affected an annoyed shrug. ‘If I follow the guidelines you have set for me, I have had far too much wine to trust my own judgement on the matter. And if you expect me to follow the rest of your silly rules before you declare me proper enough to get another kiss, then I guess we will never know.’
There was another deadly pause. Then he gave a growl of uncontrollable frustration and reached for her again, as if he thought it might be possible to kiss her into agreeability.
Remembering how she’d felt just now, he was probably right. But she had no intention of allowing herself to be so manipulated by a man who only wanted to control her. She darted clear of his grasp, turned to the table, and grabbed the first thing that came to hand: the sad bouquet she had carried to her equally sad wedding. Then she swung it with all of her might at the side of his head.
‘Don’t you dare touch me, ever again!’ The flowers exploded in a cascade of petals and she ran out the door and up the stairs, to lock herself in a bedroom that she had never wanted in the first place.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Diplomacy was not Fred’s strong suit. It was why the army had suited him so well. By the time a battle arrived, there was no need for discussion. If his superiors had doubts, they kept them to themselves. And they never had to contend with the damaged sensibilities of their men on the morning after.
That might explain the absence of women in the military. But it was not just women that were Fred’s problem. He had never been any good at dealing with the excesses of his father and brother, either. While Pater deserved respect for age and rank alone, there was no way he could cede it easily to his idiot brother Francis because of one year’s superiority and a direct line to an earldom.
Fred had chafed, argued, and evaded when dealing with people he did not like, even when his friends had hinted that subtlety might rule the day. And though he’d bought his commission to run away from his problems, in Portugal he’d had no choice but to meet challenges head-on and conquer them.
