He was an idiot. Of course, she’d wonder why he hadn’t touched her. Wonder and worry. And the delay in relations would only increase her nervousness of the act.
He unknotted his cravat and pulled it from his neck. Her nerves were something he could remedy.
Winnifred removed her spencer, folding it neatly. “I don’t understand. If you wish to wait until we arrive at your home, what are we doing now? Do you wish to …” Her brow drew down, as though it took a physical effort to find the right word. “…cuddle?” And by the slight wrinkle in her nose, it was apparent that word wasn’t to her liking.
Well, he’d never been much for cuddling, either. But he would do that with her tonight. That, and more. “Aye.” He tossed off his coat and started on his boots. “I’ll hold you and make you feel good.” An idea slipped into his head, one he should have thought of before. He was a large man. He wanted the first time he took his wife to be pleasant for her, not painful. Some preparation was due.
“Please don’t feel that you need to simulate affection.” She watched him carefully, drawing on her lower lip. “I am content to go on as before until we reach Kenmore.”
He touched her cheek, marveling at the softness of her skin. Standing next to the bed, shifting on her boots, she seemed younger than her years. He didn’t know what their future held, but he didn’t want his wife to feel insecure in his affections.
“I can’t pretend to feel love for you this early in our acquaintance,” he said. “But I promise to be true and trust that affection will follow. And believe me, I will never simulate anything when it comes to our intimacies.”
“You misunderstand me.” The grin that spread across her face was crooked, like she had little practice smiling. A small muscle tugged behind his breastbone. “I am not speaking about anything so intangible as love. Indeed, I find the very idea of it unrealistic and naïve. I was merely stating that you don’t need to try to appease any girlish feeling with such nonsense as holding me. Such an act would be pure sentimentality.”
Sin paused. “You don’t believe in love?” What a peculiar woman he’d married. He scratched his chest. He didn’t know what to make of her. “That is unfortunate. I had hopes that our marriage would be one based on mutual affection.”
“As do I.” Winnifred clasped her hands together in front of her abdomen. “An affection borne from friendship and respect. That is the most one can hope for.”
Sin narrowed his eyes. Such practicality should please him. He was fortunate not to have married a silly woman. So why did her attitude leave him feeing unsettled?
“You still wish to cuddle?” she asked, sounding as disinterested as a doxy at Sunday service.
“Yes.” Sin pressed his lips together. Damn it, he would hold his wife. He would cuddle the hell out of her. Perhaps then she’d grow to have an appreciation of such sentimentalities.
She reached for the buttons of her gown, but he drew her hands away from her back. “Let me.” He pushed the delicate buttons through their holes. A smooth expanse of skin met his gaze, her shoulder blades pulled tight together over the top of her stays. He trailed a finger down the exposed spine.
He pushed her dress over her wide hips, and it slithered to the floor. The stays quickly followed suit. She turned then, stepping out of the puddle of fabric at her feet, and clutched the top of her chemise.
He pulled the pins from her hair, and the thick mass tumbled down her back. He hadn’t yet decided if it was a light brown with golden highlights or a dark blond, but it was lovely all the same.
Running his fingers through it, he bent and pressed a soft kiss to the corner of her mouth. The side of her neck. The hollow at the base of her throat.
A fine tremor jerked her body.
“Would you feel more comfortable keeping your chemise on tonight?” His fingers itched to tear it from her body. The firelight made the thin linen translucent, her body a teasing shadow underneath. He clenched his fist, surprised at the intensity of his desire. She was his wife. He knew little about her except for the fact that she liked to hide. Hide her personality, her intelligence, her feeling. Anything that made her unique. But he had years to discover her. Decades for them to learn everything about one another until they became almost as one. His parents had had that type of relationship, his mother knowing what his father was going to say before he said it, his father knowing just when his mother needed a surprise bouquet of wildflowers to cheer her up.
He wanted to have that meaningful of a relationship with his wife. Possession hit him like a fist to the gut.His. Wife.His to care for, to make smile, to make moan.
His to fuck.
Carnal images rolled through his mind, each one more indecent than the picture before.
Sin rolled his shoulders. His thoughts bordered on uncivilized and were nothing an innocent should contend with. He shoved them down, deep into the part of him that he only let out when such primitive mindlessness would help him in a fight.
“You wouldn’t mind?” she asked.
He stared at the garment. It was short, falling to her upper thigh. The fabric was thin enough that were he to put his mouth to her breast, her nipple would be revealed within moments. The blasted undergarment was both an intoxicating tease and an infuriating border he wanted to breech. But leaving it on gave him something more to look forward to on their first night at Kenmore. Besides, tonight was about Winnifred.
He gave her a wicked grin. “It makes no difference to my purpose.”
She nodded, pulled the covers back, and climbed onto the bed. Laying back against the pillows, she waited for him. The perfectly compliant wife.
Sin grunted. Something about her calm only riled him further. Sin pulled his shirt over his head and climbed beside her. His trousers he left on. She was enough of a temptation as she was.
She didn’t resist when he pulled her into his arms, and that flicker of irritation grew brighter. Who was she to remain so indifferent? Bed sport had long ago lost any significance to him, but she was an untouched woman. There should be some emotion when he drew his fingertip along her collarbone, when he pressed an open-mouthed kiss to her throat.
A sick feeling opened in his stomach. Unless she wasn’t untouched. If she were no longer a virgin, it should make no difference to him. One of his favorite past times was visiting the Black Rose, the pleasure house his friend Sutton now owned. Lord knew he wasn’t pure.
