* * *
Vincent had donehis best to pretend all day long that he had not just encumbered himself with a wife.
He could pretend all he wanted, but that did nothing to change the reality sitting across from him covered from neck to toe in a heavy dressing gown and night rail. His wife was a small woman who looked younger than her age. Long lashes framed rather pretty blue eyes and practically perfect features.
She’d admitted that she’d married him because she had been given no choice. She said she had not cared about a lofty title.
Oddly enough, he believed her.
“You have no need to fear me.” His voice sounded gruffer than usual. But he meant it. The memory of her father violently removing her shawl and then tearing pins from her hair… Hell, what must she be expecting of him? “I won’t force myself on you.”
He wasn’t so desperate that he’d ever force a woman—not even his wife.
“I am more than willing to lie with you.” She did not blink as she spoke the words. Likely the notion of duty had been beaten into her.
He shook his head. He’d rather not bed a martyr.
But then she added, “Iwantto lie with you.” This time, her eyes flared. He could almost imagine the blue of her gaze as a blue flame.
“You don’t have to do this.”
“Perhaps not for the reasons people choose to lie together, but…” Her gaze dropped to where his hands rested on his thighs. “If you change your mind, if you decide to send me back… My father… I was betrothed before and the gentleman… cried off. If I fail in this…” She lifted her chin to meet his eyes again. “I want you to lie with me.”
Vincent drew in one long breath and then slowly released it.
Damn, Keenan.
“Do you not wish to lie with me?” Her brows furrowed. “Is it me in particular?” And then her eyes widened. “Do you not find women—“
“I find women quite nicely, thank you,” he groused.
“Then why…?”
“Did I say I did not wish to lie with you?”
There, that put an end to her impertinent questions. She shook her head slowly. “I didn’t mean to jump to conclusions.”
If he’d thought he would be having such a conversation when he awoke this morning, he would have laughed outright at himself.
His wife of not even one day, who had been forced into marriage with him, was trying to talk him into bedding her. And for the first time all day, his sense of humor jumped to life.
As did his cock.
His gaze landed on her lips.
“So, you will?” she pleaded.
Vincent cleared his throat. Not exactly the scenario he’d envisioned for his wedding night. If he had envisioned one at all.
“If it is your wish.”
“Oh, yes.” She lowered her feet to the floor and leaned forward. “Now?”
He went to speak but only a choking sound emerged, causing him to groan a little and then scrub one hand down his face. “I don’t imagine you’ve any experience.” He half wished that she did. Although that would then mean… Nonetheless, it would make all of this so much easier.
She sat up straight at his question. “Of course not!”
How did a person go about this in such a dispassionate manner?
