Mars spread his arms in exasperation. “Clarissa, sweet little minister’s daughter, you are trying my patience. We made an agreement that we would behave as husband and wife. Husbands and wives share the bedroom—”
“Not all of them. Not of your class. Why else would they have a separate Countess’s Chamber in this house if the earl and his wife are to share a room?”
“The Countess’s Chamber is now the nursery, as it has been since the beginnings of my family, or so Gibson has informed us.”
“It doesn’t matter. I will sleep with Dora.” She would have marched off except he wagged a finger at her. She hated having a finger wagged at her.
“No, you will not, Clarissa. Mrs. Rucker has the bed in there and if you squeeze her out, then the servants and everyone else will know the marriage has not been consummated and that ends the impression that we have agreed to create.”
And everyone would know their business. They would think her addlepated for not going to her husband’s bed. She could just hear the matrons rattle on about it. They had all been so proud of what they had believed they had orchestrated for her . . .
And yet, she knew she must not share a bed or even a bedroom with him. Theirs wasn’t truly a marriage. Not an honorable one in the religious sense of the word... even though she actually felt closer to Mars now than she ever had to Mr. Thurlowe, and she would have shared his bed.
A part of her wanted to do exactly that right now. Mars had slipped past her defenses. She was growing more than fond of him.
But another part of her, the part that felt battered after years of pity and being badgered to do others’ will for her, resisted. It was about pride, she realized. And respect.
Was it wrong to insist on waiting untilshewas ready?
While she’d been wrestling with conflicting emotions, Mars sat on the edge of the bed and started tugging off a boot. He dropped it to the floor and reached for his other.
She took one look at his stockinged foot and turned toward the door, ready to bolt—but then realized she didn’t want the servants gossiping either. They would dislike her stance against an employer of whom they were obviously fond. Their acceptance of her could change in a blink.
Clarissa was trapped. She could leave themarriage, except she would be leaving Dora and this newly appreciated sense of security.
Mars placed his boots near the chair, showing at least a touch of neatness. He pulled off his stockings. “Well, what are you going to do?”
Was this the same man who had kissed her so passionately? He acted aloof, as if the decision was completely hers to make—
He was unbuttoning his breeches.
Right there, in front of her.
“What are you doing?”
Mars shook his head. “I’ve told you, although it obvious. I’m preparing for bed.”
“But you are undressingcompletely.”
“Of course, I am, Clarissa. I sleep in my altogether.”
Clarissa felt her eyes cross. He planned to benaked.
She’d seen a naked man here or there. She’d had to help around the parish when people were ill. She’d nursed Reverend Taylor. Although he always wore a night rail that reached past his knees, nursing was very personal. She’d received a glance of his bits a time or two and had taken it all in stride. She understood the human form and believed it designed by the Almighty and therefore perfect—although, she’d never seen a form quite as perfect as her husband’s.
Herhusband. He was no old man. Or a sickly one.
She had the right to look at that form, and yet, when he slipped his hands into the waist of his breeches and started to shuck them off,she dropped her gaze to the floor. Her eyes strayed to his bare toes. Who knew toes could look so masculine? Or that she would find them attractive?
He was trying to snare her into setting asideherwants and her desires. That is what he was doing. He was toying with her, and the idea made her furious.
Well, two could play a game.
Except she knew better than to be naked in front of him. She’d experienced the heat from his kisses. His arousal had not been hidden from her and, right now, it was a war of wills. She must be true to her values.
Stoically, she looked away as he sauntered his bare buttocks right past her and headed toward the privacy screen.
Clarissa couldn’t draw a breath until he was out of her presence. Then, she dived into the armoire, throwing clothes this way and that. She adored the dress she was wearing too much to sleep in it. She found her heavy nightgown folded on a shelf and pulled it out. She ducked around the armoire and quickly changed.
