Chapter 19 #2
Silas finally settled on moving very slowly, which seemed to be the safest option given that he was already growing far too aroused at the sight before him.
He began by stroking a hand through Hannah’s hair, memorizing the softness of it between his fingers as he brushed the strands carefully over her left shoulder to expose the buttons on her gown.
There was a great number of them. Little silk-covered nubs that slipped and eluded his grasp, clearly made for a lady’s hands.
I will not be bested by buttons.
Silas applied himself with methodical determination, working his way down the row as each one yielded a little more of Hannah’s body to his sight.
He counted thirty before he reached the small of her back, that enticing curve that seemed to be begging for his palm.
He didn’t let himself give in to the impulse.
It was strangely satisfying to know that he could push himself to the edge of temptation without losing his self-control.
Silas wouldn’t touch Hannah unless she asked him to.
“Can you step out of the gown now?” His voice came out hoarse.
“I think so.” Why were they speaking so quietly when they were alone? It made the exchange feel like a secret. But this was his wife. There was no reason to be ashamed of undressing her.
Silas tugged one shoulder, easing the white silk down Hannah’s arm until she was halfway out, then repeated the motion on the other side.
Once her arms were free, he helped her pull the wedding dress over her head and put it carefully away.
They stood facing each other when they’d finished, equally unsure how to proceed.
It was strange. Silas had been with women before, but he’d never attended to one with such drawn-out care. It felt unexpectedly new.
“The petticoats next,” Hannah whispered. “And then I should be able to do the camisole myself.”
He saw to the ties at the back of the petticoats—all four of them—which were stiff and cumbersome to peel away.
Once they were gone, Hannah lost the dramatic bell-shaped silhouette she’d worn all day and began to resemble a natural woman.
He couldn’t help but stare, longing to run his hands around the curves of her hips.
So this was what she looked like without her armor.
When Hannah reached for the buttons to the camisole, Silas entreated, “Let me.”
She swallowed, the movement of her throat the only sign that she’d heard him.
There was no reason for him to do this part.
The camisole that covered her corset did up in the front and was one of the few things Hannah could reach without assistance.
But Silas had started this task and he intended to finish it.
The hum of excitement in his chest grew stronger with every layer, calling him onward.
Hannah must have noticed what she was doing to him. He could hardly hide it. But if it bothered her, surely she would have told Silas to stop. Instead, she watched him cautiously, some message passing between them without the need for speech. A question asked and answered.
Without breaking his gaze, Hannah lowered her hands, leaving the buttons of her camisole untouched.
Yes.
Silas drew up to his wife until they were bare inches apart, looking her in the eye for a long moment before he let his gaze skim deliberately down her throat, over the swell of her breasts, to where the camisole fastened over her corset.
He undid the buttons very slowly, taking care not to touch any part of Hannah that wasn’t strictly necessary. It was enough to have this and no more.
She brought her hands up to pull the camisole away herself, trembling slightly as she did. Was it nervousness or desire? Silas wished she would tell him plainly how much he might dare.
“I can’t do the stays.” She turned her back to him once more, and he undid the laces to her corset with hands that had begun to tremble.
God, she was perfect. He inhaled deeply, as if her rosewater might fill the hole yawning inside him.
When they’d managed to maneuver the rigid whalebone off her, Hannah was at last down to nothing but her shift and stockings. “Thank you.”
She made no move to step away, and neither did Silas. They stood frozen there for a long moment.
Finally, he ventured, “Would you let me do the rest?”
Hannah’s eyes widened. “I–I don’t need help for this part.”
“I know.”
She glanced downward toward the evidence of his arousal.
“Do you expect me to—to fulfill my wifely duties?”
His lips twitched. What an unappealing way to word it. “I told you, I won’t ask you for anything you aren’t prepared to give. If you want me to leave you in peace to rest, say the word and I’ll go. Only say it soon, please.” He wasn’t sure how much longer his restraint would hold.
“I want—” Hannah broke off, though whether she was unwilling to tell him or didn’t rightly know what she wanted was hard to tell. “May I be honest with you?”
“Please.”
“When you’re very near me this way, I find it hard to think clearly. I sometimes think I might want you to touch me the way you did before, but I’m also worried it might hurt, and most of all, that I might get in a family way. You promised we wouldn’t have children.”
“Ah.” It was all Silas could do not to give in to his desire right then.
But she wanted reassurance first. He needed to stay steady.
Just a little longer. “There can be some pain the first time I’m inside you, but there’s no need for that tonight.
If I don’t go inside you at all, it’s impossible to get with child.
” Much as he might have liked to bed Hannah, it was plain she wasn’t ready.
Better to take the time he needed to earn her trust than to lose it forever.
“You don’t mind?” Hannah eyed him with suspicion.
“I understood you had reservations when you agreed to marry me. I wouldn’t hold them against you now.” Silas paused, letting her see that he meant it. “Would you trust me enough to let me touch you? It won’t hurt. In fact, there are plenty of things we could do without any risk of a child.”
“If you’re very sure you can avoid any accidents.” There was a trace of a question in Hannah’s voice, reminding him to be careful with her. “Then yes.”
The relief that flooded Silas was far too deep for such a small word. Yes. He bent his head to kiss her neck as he fumbled for the buttons on the bodice of her shift, his restraint crumbling away in bits and pieces. Yes, yes, yes.
He would make this perfect for Hannah. He had to.
* * *
Hannah let Corbyn lead her to the bed. He did everything so slowly that it was almost hypnotic, just as it had been when he’d undressed her earlier. His methodical, steady command of her desires was exactly what she wanted now.
Hannah had only the vaguest notion of what she was supposed to do, gleaned from the knowing whispers of married friends who’d deemed it improper to give her enough detail to be actually useful.
She rather wished that someone had told her how she was supposed to touch a man or what she should expect once they had their clothes off.
But Corbyn’s methodical attention reassured her.
He could take the lead, and she would gladly follow.
As much as she’d been nervous at first, she trusted him. He’d seen her through so much already; he wouldn’t break his word.
Corbyn slid the hem of her shift up her legs, his fingertips grazing her body as he went.
He’d been so gentlemanly in the earlier stages of her déshabillement that she found herself nearly ready to beg for his touch.
She squirmed against him, longing for more, but he took his time tugging her shift over her head and moving down to her drawers, which he tugged open in a controlled but insistent motion.
Once Hannah was naked except for her stockings, he laid her down upon the coverlet and climbed atop the bed after her.
Hannah should have felt embarrassed to let a man see her this way.
Even her own husband. But the look of pure desire darkening Corbyn’s eyes had her riveted in place.
He ran his hands up her calf, beginning at the ankle and inching his way higher, until he found the ribbon that tied her stocking in place and pulled it free.
He peeled the fabric away from her skin so gingerly that Hannah shivered.
The whole time he’d been undressing her, she’d kept wondering when he would put his hands on her bare skin.
She’d leaned toward him several times on pure instinct, but he’d always held back.
Now that his hands were finally upon her, Hannah understood why. It was electric.
She might not want to risk getting in a family way, but she most definitely wanted this, the thrill he was always able to summon from her body when he was near.
Corbyn was devouring her with his eyes, and then, very soon after, devouring her with his hands and mouth as well, running his hands up her hips, over her belly, and coming to rest on her breasts, where he caressed her nipple the same way he had on the balcony at the Brandons’ ball.
Hannah gasped at the sudden heat that flooded her. She wanted to pleasure him too. She’d spent her entire life in ignorance, believing she would never experience anything like this.
“Should I undress you too?”
“No.” He tugged the buttons to his waistcoat open in a hurried motion and was out of the garment a moment later. “I used up most of my patience earlier. Besides, I’m not used to a valet.”
It didn’t take long. For all that Corbyn had been slow and gentle in undressing her, he was rough and impatient with himself, pulling the clothes off so quickly that she worried for their integrity.
Once they were both naked, he lay down on top of her, supporting most of his weight on his elbows.
Only then did he kiss her on the mouth. His tongue pressed into her insistently, taking his pleasure.