Page 45 of Her Wily Duke

Benedict threw up his hands in exasperation.

“I’m sorry I was upset with your father. I just wish that he had given us more time, and I believe that is a perfectly reasonable thing for me to wish. Now, did your father or mother ever explain to you what usually happens on a wedding night?”

“They didn’t have to,” said Ariana, sounding offended. “I may still be virtuous, as a girl should be, but I’m not an idiot. I grew up at Hazelworth Hall, and around the home farm. I’ve seen…”

She blushed rather charmingly.

“Then you know what’s expected between us.”

Ariana nodded reluctantly.

“I do.”

“So… what are we going to do? I could, as your husband, simply demand your compliance, but I would prefer that you chose to do this.”

“What are we going to do? You’re going to give me back my book, and I’m going to finish this chapter.”

“And what else?”

“And then you will go back to your bedchamber, and we’ll both sleep. I don’t know if you’re as exhausted as I am, but I’m worn out. I’ve been on my feet the entire day, I’m leaving home for the first time and I’ve never adapted to change well. That’s a lot to go through in a single day, even setting aside what you were hoping would happen tonight.”

There was an edge to her voice which irritated Benedict, as if he had been the foolish one to expect marital relations, from his bride, on their wedding night. He had known men who had taken what was theirs by force when their wives had refused to give it; but he wasn’t going to be one of those men.

He respected Ariana too much for that – and he hoped for a lifetime with her which would be pleasant, not a perpetual battle of wills.

With a weary feeling of resignation, Benedict leaned forward and planted a kiss on his wife’s cheek. To his surprise and horror, Ariana let out a wail and beat him away with her fists, turning over onto her pillow as though trying to hide her face.

“Go away!” she sounded sincerely frightened. “Isn’t it obvious that I don’t want you coming near me tonight?”

For the second time in his life Benedict felt the shame of having a kiss, and more, rejected. His insides writhed and snaked with humiliation as he watched his own wife cowering in fear of him, her pillow stained with tears. He looked on helplessly, wondering what he had done to offend her and wishing that she knew how much she was hurting him. He had hoped for love, or at least mutual desire: he had never wanted anyone more than he wanted her tonight but, no matter what the rumours might paint him as, he was no monster, and genuine care forbade him from taking what should have been rightfully his.

“I won’t lay another hand on you tonight,” he said finally. “I just — I would like to know.”

“Know what?”

“What I did to upset you, to make you react so very negatively.”

Ariana rolled over, glaring at him with her red-rimmed eyes.

“It isn’t anything you’ve done - I can’t feel that kind of attraction toward someone I’ve only just met — and haven’t yet learned to love. I know… I know that some men would not care, and would force themselves on me. At least you have more courtesy than that.”

“Is this ever going to get better?” he asked in a miserable tone. The animal hunger of desire had never been stronger than it was now, and was overheating his brain like too much wine, even as he pushed those thoughts away in his attempt to genuinely understand her.

“I suppose only time will tell.”

She rolled back onto her pillow, face obscured by tendrils of her hair which had escaped the braids. Even distraught, she was beautiful, and Benedict longed to sweep the hair away and gently massage her shoulders, to try to convince her with touch that this could be pleasant. But alas, he couldn’t enjoy even the simple pleasure of lying down beside her and taking in her beauty with his eyes. He worried that if he came too close, she would begin screaming again, awakening the staff, and no doubt creating yet more dark rumours in the process. So he simply stood there, and watched her. Silence fell over the room. Eventually, Ariana’s sobs subsided and she began to breathe more easily, as if recovering from some great danger which she had just escaped.

Some time later, she turned over so that one solitary eye glared up at him.

“You’re still here.”

“Did you think I had left?”

“That was my hope.”

Benedict shrugged in exasperation.

“Ariana, I have told you – I would prefer that you shared my bed – even if in a manner such that I never touch you tonight.”