Chapter Sixteen
Jacob watched Margaret as she slept, her head on his shoulder, her lovely body lying against him. After their repeated lovemaking he was exhausted and wished he could do the same, but too many thoughts were spinning around in his head.
He had no idea whether what they had just done was right or wrong and what the consequences would be of his actions.
He had only known Margaret for a few weeks.
Now he had not only made her his wife but he had taken her virginity.
For a man who had always shunned responsibility, he now had to come to terms with the responsibility his desire for her had caused him to take on.
No matter what they’d agreed, they could not go back to being just friends now. When he’d made love to her he’d said he did not want to hurt her, and that had been the truth, but he hadn’t just meant physically. He hoped he would never cause her any emotional pain, but he knew what he was like.
The longest time he had ever stayed with one lover was six months, then he’d moved on to the next tempting beauty.
Fortunately, all the women in his past had been just like him, but Margaret was not like those women.
His past lovers had all been married women who wanted a bit of fun while their husbands entertained themselves with their mistresses, or carefree actresses and chorus girls who wanted to extend the excitement they’d felt on stage by partying with any man who took their fancy.
Like him, such women easily moved on to their next lover, and neither doubted, right from the start, that it was always a short-term relationship.
He lightly stroked Margaret’s shoulder. And she was different in other ways as well.
He’d never had a virgin in his bed, for so many reasons.
Partly because he saw it as morally wrong, but mainly because, unless you were a complete cad—and while he was a cad, he hoped he was not a complete one—such liaisons could never be casual.
So, what would he do now? He had just made love to his wife, and he certainly wanted to do it again, often.
There was nothing wrong with that, was there?
In fact, wasn’t it expected of him? And yet, deep down, he knew it to be wrong.
He had known that when she had looked up at him with those beautiful hazel eyes and told him she wanted him to satisfy her curiosity.
And yet he’d ignored his better judgement, all because he wanted her.
He ran his hand over her naked shoulder and along her beautiful full breast. He’d wanted her and had selfishly ignored what was best for her.
But should he judge himself so harshly? His eyes swept down her body, over her full tempting breasts, across her softly rounded stomach, to the mound of dark hair and down those long, slender legs. She was so breathtakingly beautiful—how could he resist her?
And he didn’t just mean her appearance. There was something about Margaret that was different from all the other women he’d had in his life.
It wasn’t that she had been a virgin. He certainly wasn’t the type of man who saw deflowering a woman as some sort of conquest. But there was definitely something—something indefinable.
Just as there was also something indefinable in the way she made him feel.
Making love to her had been unlike anything he’d previously experienced with a lover, and again it had nothing to do with her being a virgin.
It was as if there had been a deep connection between them. Something so all-consuming and indefinable. When they made love he felt so close to her, as if they were no longer two people, but had somehow joined as one on a level that was greater than just the physical.
This was all so baffling and somewhat disturbing, and nothing like the uncomplicated fun he usually had in bed with a woman. His stroking hand moved from her shoulder to her exquisite breast, lying against his chest. He circled the pink nipple and watched it contract under his touch.
Making love to her might have caused some complications, but, by God, it had certainly been fun. He’d had so many women since he’d lost his virginity at the tender age of sixteen, he’d long since lost count, and never expected any to surprise him, but Margaret had.
It wasn’t due to any expertise she’d possessed.
When she’d entered his bedchamber, she’d been a nervous virgin, unsure of what she was doing.
Nor was it the way she had so quickly become comfortable with her body and the giving and receiving of physical pleasure.
But whatever it was, it had left him wanting more—much, much more.
She opened her eyes and looked up at him. ‘Mmm, that feels very nice,’ she murmured as he continued to caress her tight bud.
She looked down at his arousal and sent him a cheeky grin. ‘And I see you’re rather enjoying it as well.’
With a growing boldness that never failed to surprise and excite him, she reached down, ran her hand along his shaft and lifted one leg over his thigh. ‘Perhaps we need to do something about that.’
‘No, you must be sore,’ he said, running a finger lightly over her cheek. They’d already made love several times and he was loath to cause her any pain.
‘A bit,’ she said. ‘But I don’t mind.’
‘I do,’ he said. ‘But don’t worry. There’s lots more we can do while we give your precious parts a much-needed rest.’
She smiled at him, a delightfully wicked smile that he’d seen several times during their lovemaking—a smile he had come to adore. ‘Oh, I like the sound of that. I want to know everything.’
‘Everything?’ he asked, sure she couldn’t mean it.
‘Everything,’ she said emphatically. ‘I’m sure a man such as yourself has a lot to teach me,’ she added and lifted herself up onto her elbows as if waiting for instructions.
He wrapped her in his arms and kissed her. ‘Well, you can keep doing what you just started,’ he said as he nuzzled her neck.
‘You mean like this?’ Once again, she took him in her hand.
‘Oh, yes, I mean just like that.’ He lay back, loving the way her fingers were working their magic, and loving the way he had unlocked her sensual, passionate nature, a nature he had always suspected existed.
And so they spent the rest of the evening, exploring each other’s bodies and discovering the many ways they could pleasure each other.
And she had not been lying when she’d said she wanted to learn everything he could teach her.
Just as he had when he’d taken her virginity, Jacob made it clear at all times that she was completely in control, could stop at any time, but she was an eager student.
They did on occasion break for much-needed meals, which the servants left on trays outside his room, but neither had any desire to leave his bed, so they ate among the tangled sheets.
‘What on earth must the servants be thinking of us?’ she said after they’d finished another meal—breakfast, lunch, dinner—he wasn’t sure what.
‘They’ll think we’re on our honeymoon,’ he said, gathering up the discarded empty dishes, placing them on the tray and depositing them outside the door.
‘Mmm,’ she said, and lay back on the bed, licking her lips, that simple action driving him wild with desire.
‘No, don’t come back to bed!’ she said, sitting up and holding up both hands in a stop gesture. ‘Stay just like that.’
‘Have you had enough of me already?’
‘No, I want to draw you.’
She jumped off the bed and he watched her naked body quickly retreat through the adjoining door that led to her bedchamber. He heard a trunk being opened and slammed shut, then she rushed back in, a sketchbook in her hand.
‘I never travel without this,’ she said, sitting on the end of the bed and flipping open the book. ‘Right, adopt the pose of a Greek god.’
Jacob raised his hands, palms upward, having no idea how a Greek god posed.
‘Just stand facing me, looking manly and commanding.’
He had no idea how one did that either, so he just stood the way he always did.
‘Perfect,’ she murmured, her black pencil moving quickly over the page, her gaze flicking backwards and forwards from him to her drawing.
Watching her at work, he wished he had some artistic ability because it would be wonderful to depict her as she looked right now, her exquisite body completely naked, sitting amidst the sheets tousled by their lovemaking, her lovely face a picture of concentration.
There was something so erotic about a woman whose passions extended beyond the bedroom.
And she was so passionate, so sensual, so erotic. It was hard to believe that she had entered this room a shy, awkward virgin.
‘Don’t move,’ she said, a laugh in her voice.
‘I’m not moving.’
‘Oh, yes you are.’ Her eyes widened and she pointed her pencil at his groin.
He looked down. ‘Well, that my dear wife, is entirely your fault, not mine. If you want to keep him still you shouldn’t be so damn arousing.’
‘Well, in that case, perhaps I’ll finish this sketch later,’ she said, tossing the sketchbook aside, moving back onto the bed and stretching her arms out for him to join her.
Margaret could hardly believe such happiness was possible.
She was so besotted with Jacob it was making her constantly weak with longing.
During their lovemaking she had so often wanted to whisper words of love in his ear, but each time she had thankfully held back just in time.
Often those declarations had to be quickly turned into I love it when you do that, or I love the way you make me feel, or even I love the way you smell and taste, all of which were equally true.
Even on occasion she had declared her love for whatever body part was giving her the most pleasure at that particular time, which again was true; she loved every inch of his magnificent body.
But most of all, she loved the way he desired her. Just as he was now, as if he could not get enough of her.
‘Come here, my little vixen,’ he said, joining her on the bed and covering her with kisses.
She lay back on the scattered pillows, loving the touch of his lips on her body, giving herself completely to their lovemaking and feeling loved and adored.
His kisses trailed down her body and she purred with pleasure, knowing from past experience where they were heading. ‘I love it when you do that,’ she said, parting her legs.
‘And I love the way this makes you cry out my name,’ he said, lifting one leg and kissing the soft skin of her inner thigh.
Thoughts drifted off as the passion of the moment consumed her, and soon she was doing exactly what he said she would, crying out his name again and again as he expertly brought her to a pinnacle of bliss and sent her crashing over the other side.
And this was how they spent the next few days.
The only time they left the bed was when Jacob called for a servant to prepare a bath in her bedchamber.
It was lovely to step into the warm water, and even more lovely when Jacob washed her, running the sea sponge over her body in a manner equally as erotic as their lovemaking.
Then he towelled her dry, his stroking hand like an act of worship, as if she were a goddess being tended to by a devoted acolyte.
When they did finally emerge from his bedchamber, Margaret was unsure how many days later, she knew she was a completely different woman from the one who had arrived at his estate after that rushed wedding.
Holding hands, they walked down the stairs together towards the dining room, intending to eat their meal at a table for the first time since their arrival, instead of from trays in the middle of their large bed.
As the servants hurriedly laid the table and placed the breakfast tureens on the sideboard, Jacob and Margaret smiled at each other. ‘I assume you remember how to sit at a table,’ he asked as he pulled out the chair for her.
‘Yes, I have a vague recollection,’ she said, picking up a fork and looking at it as if it were an object she had not encountered before, causing him to laugh.
Then he looked around the room with the same confused expression she’d adopted when joking about the fork. ‘This house looks different, somehow.’
‘Different?’
‘Yes, less…’ he waved his hand in the air as if searching for words ‘…or more… Did the servants change the wallpaper and furniture while we were in bed? The room looks so much brighter.’
He continued to look around the room in wonder. His gaze returned to her. ‘I know what it is. You’ve changed this house.’
‘What? You think I sneaked out while you were sleeping and changed the wallpaper and furniture?’
He reached across the table, took her hand and kissed it. ‘No, but you being here has changed this house. You’ve made it… I don’t know…more like a home.’ He leant in closer and lowered his voice. ‘I do believe that making love to you has driven out the ghosts in this house.’
A thrill of pleasure coursed through her. She hoped it was true and he was no longer haunted by those terrible memories of his childhood and the unhappiness he had experienced in this house.
‘I’m happy to fulfil my role as exorcist any time you want.’
He kissed her hand one more time, his eyes holding hers, and if Margaret had a fanciful imagination she would believe that he was looking at her with love.
After breakfast they went for a walk around the estate.
This time it was a slow stroll, their arms around each other, and Margaret hoped he meant what he said, that this really was their home now.
The place where they would happily live their lives.
Deep down, she knew that was a delusion, they had made no real commitment to each other, but it was a delusion she was happy to indulge in for as long as she possibly could.
And under that delusion, she enjoyed the next few weeks, revelling in a state of blissful desire, until the invitation arrived that changed everything.