A Lady by Chance
By Cheryl
Bolen
If consummation was what the woman
wanted, then she would have it, Haverstock vowed angrily
as he paced the masculine chamber adjoining hers. He
would take her swiftly, with no allowances for pleasuring
her. Wife she may be in name, but name only. He would
satisfy her legal whim and be gone. He had other matters
to see to tonight.
After an adequate amount of time for
her to ready herself, he rapped at her door, then entered.
The room's only light came from a fire glowing in the
hearth and a single taper beside her gilded bed. She was
in the bed, propped up on mounds of lacy pillows, her
freshly brushed hair hanging loose around her lovely face.
She wore a white lace gown buttoned to the neck and
looked impossibly innocent. He held back a snort,
doubting her innocence. The woman was the daughter of a
whore and was herself most likely a cheat and a thief.
Certainly no innocent.
He would not accord her gentlemanly
courtesies. "You are to remove your clothing, madam,"
he said, his voice as clear and cool as an icicle.
Her eyes widened for a hint of a second,
then she moved to the edge of the bed, blew out the
candle and began to unbutton her gown.
"I want the candle lighted,"
he said harshly. "I am your husband, and I want to
see what I'm getting." He scooped up the candle,
strolled to the fireplace and relit the wick from the
flames. Walking slowly back to her bed, he watched her
lift the gown over her head, then clutch the coverlet to
hide her breasts, her face flaming.
He set the candle on the marble top of
her bedside table and leaned over her, lifting her chin
with his finger. "I cannot believe the former Miss
De Mouchet blushes over the prospect of displaying her
lovely body."
"It is just. . ." Anna
whispered, "I did not know this act was performed .
. .totally naked?"
His laughter shook the room. "Yes,
my dear, we shall perform the act totally naked. I pity
your former lovers if they were denied the pleasure of
your entire body." His hand moved from her chin,
down the slope of her chest, where he flicked off the
covering and cupped a full breast while his thumb plied
her pink nipple.
"There have been no lovers, my
lord," she said in a shaky voice.
He removed his hand and met her
bewildered gaze. "Do you mean to tell me you're a
virgin?"
All he saw were her huge, brown eyes
staring at him like a frightened doe as she nodded.
"So you say. There are ways a man
can tell if a woman has been with a man."
She lifted her chin and spoke in a
voice now devoid of shakiness. "I'm very happy to
learn that. Then I will be exonerated of at least one
odious deed."
"Oh, but my dear," he said,
sitting beside her on the bed and stroking her breast,
"there is nothing at all odious about the deed."
"Then you've done this before?"
He guffawed. "God in heaven woman,
I'm thirty-two years old."
Softly, she asked, "How old were
you the first time?"
He remembered the fair Denise at Oxford
and smiled. "Eighteen."
She spoke in a whisper. "I am
eighteen, too."
He struggled with himself not to feel
sympathy for her. He would soon know if she was a whore.
Her eyes flickered to his hand as he
kneaded her breast. "I suppose this a ridiculous
question to ask one's husband, but what is your first
name, my lord?"
A smile curved his lips. "Charles."
"Have you ever had a mistress,
Charles?"
"That is no concern of yours, my
dear. I vowed to your priest tonight that I would forsake
all others, and I intend to keep at least that part of my
vows, provided you satisfy my bedroom needs."
"I will endeavor to try," she
said softly. "Oblige me by being a good teacher."
He got up from the bed and blew out the
candle.
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