His hands gripped her knees. She looked, but he wasn’t objecting. The grip was from his passion.Thank heaven.She leaned forward to brace her hands on the bed on either side of him, and raced to the relief she so desperately needed.
Suddenly he pumped up into her, meeting her movements and thrusting her up again and again and again. Marcus had never been capable of such strength and she gasped at the power of it, driven by him into a blinding white heat.
After the release, she almost collapsed onto him, but corrected in time and settled beside him, heart pounding, hot and sweaty, still rippling with pleasure, but so very, very satisfied. She kissed his shoulder, stroked his chest. She could very easily purr.
His hand covered hers, but the silence became uncomfortable. Marcus had always thanked her. It had become a rote courtesy, but she’d come to expect it. He’d meant it, but she’d sometimes thought it would be pleasant to break the pattern. Not into complete silence, however. Had she done something wrong? She leaned up to look at him. He was looking at her, but his lids were lowered, his face in shadow and completely unreadable.
Then he took a handful of her hair, raised it, and let it drift down. She almost said,Marcus used to do that,but stopped herself in time. Then he cradled her faceand kissed her gently. Perhaps that was his way of saying thank you.
It seemed she was acceptable.
***
Braydon considered his sleeping wife. In general he preferred to sleep alone, and if they’d been in her bed he would have left, but it would be churlish to send her on her way now, especially after such generosity. Especially after a silence he hadn’t seemed able to break. What should a gentleman husband say after such a performance?
He hadn’t expected that, though he might have if he’d accepted that she’d known only one man, Marcus Cateril, crippled by serious wounds. Cateril would have been put to bed by his manservant, and Kitty would have joined him. When summoned? That wasn’t Cateril’s fault, but it seemed too much like a sultan summoning a woman from his harem. Had Kitty been allowed to decline?
Irrational to be vexed on her behalf.In truth, he was vexed with himself for his doubts about her. She’d known only one man, and Cateril had not been a thoughtless husband. She’d expected to find her own pleasure. Now she lay sound asleep, tangled in her magnificent hair, her generous lips relaxed. There would be more kissing next time. Abundant kissing, and other pleasures that might be new to her. He didn’t think she’d object.
Here was one blessing from the mess his life was in. He had a frankly sexual lover in his marriage bed.
He sank into sleep himself, thinking that every man should marry a widow. And then smiling at the impossibility of it.
***
Kitty woke in a strange bed to strange smells and strange everything.
Of course, she was in Braydon’s bed. She was turnedaway from him on the very edge, where she’d used to sleep with Marcus to try not to bump into him in the night and possibly hurt him. And to avoid the way his arms sometimes flailed around, as if he were fighting.
She rolled toward the center but she couldn’t see much in the dark. The fire had gone out and the air was nippy on her nose. It must still be the middle of the night.
She considered the event.
She thought it had gone well. There’d been something about that kiss that denied any anger or disappointment. She certainly felt none.
It was going to be lovely not to have to worry about putting weight on a painful place. She could probably bounce up and down on his hips if she wanted, which had her fighting a chuckle at the thought.
But the way he’d surged up into her.Oh, my!
He might be easy to rouse again, but she stopped herself from reaching out to try. She had the impression from Marcus that there was no such thing as a too-demanding wife, and that only his physical state had constrained him, but that might not be true of all men, and Braydon seemed to prefer control.
She began to fall back into sleep, but then remembered that she had a bed of her own. Heavens, she’d made a mistake! A viscountess was supposed to return to her own bed.
She slipped carefully out of bed, shivering in the cold air as she fumbled around for her robe. She wrapped it closely around herself and picked her way out of one dark room into another. She heard Sillikin, so didn’t yelp when warm fur brushed against her in eager welcome.
“Yes, yes,” Kitty said quietly, “but I’m going to trip over you.”
She finally made it to the bed and climbed into it. Sillikin scrambled up the bed steps, claws scratching.
“Oh, very well. Come on in.”
It was a long time since the warming pans had been worked through the bed, and the sheets were cold. The small dog did little to warm them. Huddling and rubbing herself, Kitty thought that the aristocratic way of doing things was stupid. But, then, Marcus had been an aristocrat. Perhaps it was the wealthy way of doing things. Whichever, it was most unfair to the woman. She was still grumbling in her mind when she fell back asleep.
Chapter 20
Kitty woke to a noise. Sillikin was already out of bed, snuffling around the gray-clad maid who was making up the fire.
“Beg pardon for waking you, milady.” It sounded like a sincere beg, as if she expected to be scolded or worse.
