Chapter 6
CHAPTER SIX
The gown was soft and smooth beneath her fingertips, but Margaret hardly noticed.
She had been standing at the side of the bed for minutes, just staring at the wall opposite her, the gown that she had been in the middle of folding hanging listlessly from her fingertips.
Her diamond earrings had already been removed and placed carefully beside the bed.
She was reliving the day that they had enjoyed: their third day of marriage. Samuel had laughed, and she had laughed, and the entire set of passengers had looked at them as if they were mad, and it had made them laugh all the more.
A smile drifted happily across her face. It did not seem possible, this sort of happiness. She had not been bred to it, having her own way – but then neither had Samuel Brown, and he had an air of always getting what he wanted that was hard to resist.
That sad, strange, striking man. What was he doing to her?
Margaret shook her head and attempted to attend to the matter at hand: carefully folding her gown.
She did it more from habit than anything else, but decades of training simply could not allow her to get into bed before the gown she had been wearing that day was carefully folded to prevent creases, and placed into the chest.
The softness of the silk smoothed the way for her fingertips, and Margaret allowed herself to revel in the feeling. There were so few pleasures in life. Surely she would permit herself this one.
And it was done. The candle in the corner flickered slightly, and she glanced at the tiny carriage clock. Almost ten o’clock. Samuel would return to the cabin soon, and here she was, standing in her chemise. She would need to be quick to get changed into her nightclothes.
Just as she raised her hands to the straps across her shoulders, the cabin door was thrown open and she turned around in shock, her mouth open.
Samuel Brown, her husband, was standing in the doorway, and his expression was unreadable, changeable, unknown to her. He took a swift step into the room and closed the door by leaning against it, never taking his eyes away from her.
Margaret could feel his gaze like a physical touch against her body, and it was hot, and heavy, and marvellous. And yet she could not prevent the embarrassment from growing in her stomach, and with her arms across her breasts, she turned away.
“No.” The word was uttered lightly, and it was not a command – more a plea. “No, do not turn away.”
If she had not known that they were the only two in the room, Margaret would have guessed that another had spoken. She had never heard Samuel speak in such a way; half begging, half curious, half terrified that his words would be ill received.
She paused in her turn, and her eyes flickered to his face. He was staring at her as though he had never seen a woman before in his life.
“Please, Maggie,” Samuel said shakily. “My God…Maggie, you are so beautiful.”
It was too much, too much for her to bear, too much to listen to. No one had ever said such a thing about her before and she flushed at the very thought of his words, now echoing in her mind.
But his gaze did not falter, and he did not laugh. This was no jest.
“Do…do you truly think so?”
The words had slipped out before she could call them back, and Margaret’s cheeks tinged pink at the brazen question.
But Samuel did not seem to think it was brazen.
He had not moved from the door of the cabin, leaning against it as though for support.
As though he would not be able to stand without it, as he gazed at her, stared at her, drinking her in.
He nodded. “Maggie, I cannot take my eyes away from you. I am a fortunate man indeed, just to be given the honour of looking at you.”
As though he could not help himself, Margaret saw the fingers of his right hand stretch out for a fraction of a second, as though desperate to reach out and touch her, to ascertain that she was real, perhaps, or…or something even more wild and delicious.
She swallowed. She knew what she wanted, she had known it from the moment that he had taken her hand in his, that ridiculous and marvellous day that he had offered her his hand in marriage.
She wanted him. She wanted him like no other woman had wanted a man, and she was ashamed of her desire and yet it felt natural, felt exactly right.
And she could see now, see it in his eyes, see that he felt the same way too. There was a hunger there, a desperate need – and yet he pulled himself back, forcing his hands behind his back.
Margaret swallowed once more, but remembered his words. “…just to be given the honour of looking at you.”
They both wanted more. They were man and wife. It could not, it should not be wrong.
Emboldened by his words, certain that this was what they both wanted, Margaret forced down her nerves and stretched her fingers from where they were, clutched across her breasts, to lift at the sleeves of her chemise and allowed it to fall to the ground. Her arms fell to her sides, completely nude.
Samuel moaned darkly under his breath and took two fierce strides towards her, but just before he reached her, just before he touched her, he stopped.
“It – it has to be your choice, Maggie,” he breathed jerkily, raising a trembling hand to her face and cupping her cheek. “I have no wish to force you into anything, to encourage you into something that you may regret.”
They stood there, mere inches apart. Margaret could feel her heart thundering in her chest, but there were even wilder feelings in her chest and she wanted to give in to them. Wanted to abandon herself to the sensations that were temptingly close.
She licked her lips, took the tiniest of steps forward, and leaned up on her tip toes to kiss Samuel gently on the mouth.
It did not stay gentle. Samuel responded to her act of bravery by clutching her narrow waist with his strong hands, pulling her towards him so desperately that she gasped.
He took advantage of her lips breaking open by twisting his head slightly and deepening the kiss, and as his tongue took gentle possession of her mouth, Margaret found her hands around his neck, holding onto the ride of her life.
Samuel pulled away from the kiss, and she saw something flaming, something wonderful and dark in his eyes. “Oh, Maggie,” he growled. “If I could…if I dared…”
Something wanton had risen up inside her, and Margaret smiled in a way that she hoped would be beautiful.
“Dare,” she breathed.
And she was crushed, crushed to his chest as Samuel took her in his arms and brought his lips down hard on hers, and it was wonderful, and fire, and glory, and the cabin seemed to be spinning so wild was her mind.
His hands, which had at first been almost reverential, staying on her waist and not meandering, were now firmly cupped around her buttocks and she squirmed slightly at the sensation, but it only made him growl into her mouth as he brought her more tightly to his loins, and she could feel something there, something hard, something that promised future pleasures.
Her breasts, a part of her body she had never really cared about before, now felt on fire, pressed up against his shirt.
Each time Samuel moved to deepen their kiss, her nipples scratched across the linen and Margaret arched her back with the intense sensation, and for some reason it seemed to push Samuel, her husband, her own, over the edge.
“Maggie, you have no idea what you do to me,” Samuel moaned in a jagged voice, managing to pull himself away from her for a single moment, tugging at the buttons on his shirt. “And I have wanted to do this – to kiss you, to love you, from the moment I set eyes upon you.”
Margaret’s mouth fell open and she blushed at the idea of sparking such wild and licentious thoughts in a man at first sight, and it fell open even further as she watched Samuel pull off his shirt to reveal a broad and muscular chest – but she barely had time to think before Samuel stepped forward and lifted her up, throwing her backwards onto the bed.
As she sunk into the mattress, splayed out and warm, wanting him, her wish was granted. Samuel followed her onto the bed, covering her body with his, and he was kissing her, kissing her as though he would never be permitted to kiss her again, and this time his hands were not idle.
Margaret cried aloud as one finger grazed a nipple as his other hand clutched at her hip, keeping it tilted towards him, and she arched her back once more into the pleasure of it – but the weight of his body, the strength of him, kept her still.
“Yes, Maggie, show me how much you enjoy it,” growled Samuel as he kissed her neck, and for the first time in her life, Margaret realised that she had the control. He may be bigger than her, stronger than her, but he was driven by her, mesmerised by her.
She could do whatever she wanted.
In a swift movement, she rolled over and tipped Samuel underneath her, so that she was straddling him. The look of surprise and wonderment was enough to make her laugh, and he grinned in amazement.
“My God, Maggie, I had no idea you – ”
But his words were cut short. In a fit of bravery that Margaret never thought would be repeated again, she pulled his arm so that he sat up, and cupping his face, she kissed him passionately, slipping her tongue into his mouth.
And she was aflame. His arms around her, his hands squeezing her buttocks, her legs wrapped around him and their tongues tangled in a passionate kiss that seemed to be very air to them, Margaret could feel heat and sizzling desire rocketing through her body, and she arched into him, desperate for something that she could not put her finger on.
“I-I want you,” she groaned into his mouth. “Samuel, what do I want? Tell me what I need – give it to me!”