Bridget did not entirely know what consummation was like, only a vague sketch of all the details, but if his fingers could bring her such pleasure, Bridget shivered in anticipation of what she would feel once he wasinsideher.
“I see.”
With every touch, the muscles in Bridget’s stomach grew tighter. That familiar pleasure curled inside her, burning her from the inside. She tried desperately to put her thoughts into order and to think of something witty to say, but all her thoughts fell apart and shattered like glass. The whole world fell away, except for the sensations coursing through her body and the heat of her husband’s eyes on her.
A ragged groan tore from Bridget. She bucked her hips against him, her bare skin brushing against the fabric of his fine trousers and his jacket. “Oh, look at you,” Lewis murmured. “So close to what you desire.”
Shewas! Bridget jolted against his body, her hips moving without conscious thought. She brought her hands to his shoulders and dug her nails into his jacket. Bridget clung to him, forcing herself to remain upright as her knees shook and her thighs trembled. She tossed her head back, and a strangled moan escaped her.
Bridget knew that she was being loud, and doubtlessly, the staff had heard her. Heat rushed to her face, but she did not care enough to ask her husband to stop, not when she was so near pleasure. Her body was alive like never before. It seemedimpossible for her to contain all the sensations coursing through her, and she was certain that she must soon shatter to pieces and?—
He withdrew his hand. Bridget let out a wail of despair and bucked wildly against him, trying to find the same rhythm that he had. When her efforts failed, she tore away from him. Her fingers seized her skirts, and she had a wild thought of reaching for her core and trying to find pleasure herself.
The infuriating man smiled. “Did you think you had won? I told you that you would have no pleasure until you learned to be a proper wife and duchess, and I am a man of my word.”
A strange feeling overcame her, buried somewhere deep beneath the surge of displeasure of being unsatisfied. “Maybe I can be a better duchess,” she said, her blood roaring in her ears. “If you were not so cold to me.”
“Do you believe I am cold?” he asked. “I have just given you such careful attention.”
“Yes,” Bridget said. ‘But maybe—maybe I want something besides just this. I want you to look at me with some fondness. Even just a little.”
A look of uncertainty crossed his face. “I see.”
“Could you try?” Bridget ventured.
If he would not, Bridget was going to be furious with her sister for advising her to confront her husband about her needs. Lewis smiled tentatively and bowed. “My dear wife, I regret to depart, but as I told you, I have some business to attend to this afternoon. Good day.”
Bridget dug her nails into her hands until her palms hurt. She wanted to scream and storm after him.
He paused at the doorway and glanced back at her. Lewis seemed suddenly unable to meet her eyes. “I cannot promise to feel any certain way for you, but if it will please you…I might be willing to try. If you are.”
He walked through the door, while she struggled and failed to find a suitable response.
The door closed behind him. With a final scowl, Bridget let her skirts drop. Her core still pulsed and ached with unsatisfied desire, and it was all her husband’s fault. But strangely, the moment felt like a victory—even if it was not exactly the one she intended on winning.
CHAPTER 25
Lewis had been a married man for scarcely two weeks, and if he had learned anything about his new bride, it was that she was unpredictable. It was with no small amount of trepidation that he dared take her to Lord and Lady Hampton’s garden party. It was their first outing after their marriage, and Bridget was certain to draw attention. Still, Lewis respected Lord Hampton, which whom he had a long business relationship, and he knew the man would, at least, be discreet if Bridget exhibited any unreasonable behavior.
Nevertheless, attention might embolden her to try another one of her schemes, and Lewis was not certain that he wished to contend with that. As loath as he was to admit it, Bridget’s plots were beginning to vex him more than he wanted to admit. He had resolved not to break before she did, but that was proving more difficult than anticipated. His eyes drifted to Bridget, her delicate hand resting on the crook of his arm, as they entered the gardens. She was a vision in pink silk, her beautiful curves all lovingly shaped by her gown.
As if sensing that his eyes lingered on her, Bridget’s eyes snapped to his face. “What are you thinking?”
He was thinking that he would enjoy taking her into the gardens and tearing her gown from her slender body. He could spend all afternoon worshipping her beneath the sunlight and open, blue sky.
“I am thinking that this party will be dull,” he said.
Lewis would not give Bridget the satisfaction of knowing that he was as affected by her as she was him.
A wrought iron gate, draped with purple wisteria, led into the gardens. Vast swaths of green swept before them. Long grasses and delicate flowers swept over the path. To their right, there was a garden of blooming roses; to their left, was the hedge garden. Further along the path, white pavilions were pitched and cut sharply into the surface of the blue, cloudless sky.
Lords and ladies milled about, but aside from their initial greeting by Lord and Lady Hampton, Lewis saw no one that he recognized. It seemed as though many of thetonrecognizedhim, though. Or perhaps merely his wife. A cluster of young ladies whispered together, scarcely a few feet away from them.
“I am not surprised that you would find this occasion dull,” Bridget said, seemingly oblivious to the attention they were receiving.
“Have I given you any particular impression that I loathe garden parties?”
“Not specifically, but you do not seem to like parties much at all,” she said.
