“I wish to know what it is like, one’s wedding night.”
“No, you don’t.”
“Arthur, I merely wish toknow, I do not wish to endeavor.”
“You wish me to describe to you, in detail, how a man deflowers his bride?” His prick was even more aroused.
“Yes. It is not fair ladies are kept in the dark while gentlemen know all, and given that I am now legally married, I feel entitled to educate myself. You are clearly experienced, so?—”
“Woman, do you honestly wish to kill me?”
She chose that moment to shift her seat again, making him curse anew. “Damn blast it, Bella, stop movin’!”
“But why, Arthur?” Her innocence was stunning. “This is precisely what I mean. You order me about because of your, well,manhood, yet I’ve not the faintest idea why it hardens so in my presence.”
“Lord have mercy,” he muttered as he physically removed her from his person and scrambled off the bed.
She stared directly at the bulge at his crotch, making him curse her only more in his head.
He turned from her sightline. “Take yer bath, woman, whilst I exit this room fast. I’ll not be teased nor tempted into seducin’ you, wife or not. I’ll return in half an hour, an’ you’ll bolt this door while I am gone. We clear?”
“Yes, Arthur.”
He was already halfway out.
“Only Arthur…”
He stopped.
“I did not intend to tease. I am in earnest. I respect your efforts to protect me from Mr. Finch.”
He refused to look at her.
“Which is why I trust you, of all men, might be willing to share with me what others deny in explanation.”
He groaned, letting his forehead sink to the doorframe. “Annabelle, I beg you, stop talkin’.” And with that he hastened downstairs for a pint or ten to clear his head and loins of the lust she’d just unleashed.
Tucked in bed, Elizabeth tossed and turned, unable to sleep. Milton had not returned home for dinner, and though she knew he was a man of business, she did not know exactly what that business was. In fact, she’d never asked how he’d amassed his fortune, though she assumed it was through dubious means: gambling, investments, backroom deals. She accepted this about her husband—she accepted a great many things, it seemed—but at no point in their brief marriage had he disappeared without word of his return.
She’d spent the afternoon at her desk continuing her brooding story, so engrossed in writing the dinner hour had snuck up fast. Afterward, she had answered correspondence and even penned Mr. Kilpert that letter requesting the tutor educate her husband in the art of formal dance. Gerald had not known the master’s whereabouts, telling her only that Jasp was known to take off when in a mood. Only her husband had been in a fine mood this morning, one more elevated than usual, jocular even. Their congress last night had felt like more than mere procreating too, leaving her miffed Milton might seek comfort in another woman’s arms.
Li’s arms.
Though Mary Audrey’s words assuaged her some. Li was Milton’s family, not his lover anymore. Yet she had been, once. Elizabeth was tempted to await Milton’s return in his bed again but recalled his displeasure the last time she’d been so bold.Blasted man, she thought. Just when she was warming to him, he had to go and disappoint. Disappear.
She grabbed Miss Austen’sPersuasion, said a silent prayer that Annabelle,please God,remain safe with Mr. Harris, then settled into bed. She read how bitterly Anne Elliot regretted her decision to decline Captain Wentworth’s hand.
Foolish woman.
When Harris returned, his wife unbolted the door and stomped off to curl herself into a ball beneath the bed’s thick coverlet. Three pints downstairs had done him good, and the bath was warm enough he decided to slip his body in. Soon, splashing water and spitting logs were the only sounds disturbing his thoughts. That and bursts of laughter from the tavern below.
He soaked until the water grew cold, then shook himself dry, donned his smalls and shirt, and settled in beside the new Mrs. Harris. As a married man he had a right to soft ticking; no more floorboards for him, not this night.
“Arthur.” Annabelle’s soft voice surprised him. Why the hell was she not asleep?
“I wish to know.” She turned to face him beneath the bedclothes, an inch now from his nose.
“Leave be, Bella.”
