Chapter 10
Something warm and soft pressed against Thatcher in his dreams, something he didn’t want to let go of.
The dream was about Amelia, as all of his dreams had been since their wedding. But this one was more realistic than any of the others, almost as if he could really touch her and feel her body against his.
It was a dream too good to be true, and he simply wanted to bask in the oblivion for a moment longer.
But something wiggled against his bare leg.
His eyes flew open to the darkness of the bedroom that told him it wasn’t yet dawn. He started to roll over only to find that his leg was actually trapped underneath . . . another leg.
Wakefulness crashed into him, bringing every nerve in his body to full attention and making him aware of not only the leg draped over his but a body curled up against his side and a face next to his on the pillow.
Amelia. He knew it was her right away, didn’t even have to think for a second.
He sucked in a breath and pinched his eyes closed. What in the name of all that was holy was she doing in bed with him?
She stirred, stopped breathing, then began to carefully inch away from him.
She must have been asleep and had now woken and was trying to put a proper distance between them. But she obviously hadn’t realized he was awake too, or she wouldn’t be moving so covertly.
As she tried to back away, he became more conscious of her body against his. He hadn’t been dreaming after all. She really had been next to him, her warm and soft body pressed to his. In fact, she was still mostly against him—he could feel the length of her.
Had she been cold? Was that why she’d gotten into bed with him? Maybe the blankets on the sofa hadn’t been enough and she’d needed his body heat.
Whatever the case, she’d been much bolder than he’d expected. Much bolder than he was. Was that because she’d already been married? She had no reason to be a prude. Not when they had every right to share a bed now that they were man and wife.
Even if she’d been daring enough to crawl in beside him, her actions now in trying to extricate herself told him she hadn’t meant to take things quite so far.
As she slid her leg off his and down to the mattress, he knew he needed to make her aware that he was awake. He didn’t want to deceive her into thinking he was still sleeping, and he may as well have that talk with her about waiting for intimacy.
She began to slide back even more, putting some distance between their bodies.
That was probably for the best. But as soon as the soft pressure of her body was gone, he immediately wanted it back.
He almost reached for her, but he restrained himself and lay motionless until she was a hand’s distance from him.
Only then did he release a tight breath.
At his exhale, she stiffened. “Thatcher?” she whispered.
“I’m awake.”
“How long?”
“A minute or two.”
She made a frustrated sound. “I’m sorry for bothering you. I didn’t mean to get so close. I must have been cold. I apologize—”
“It’s all right.”
“No, really. I didn’t mean to crowd your space—”
“Amelia.” He somehow managed to touch her lips with his fingers and silence her. He couldn’t see her features clearly, but it was light enough that he could see the outline of her face and knew she was looking at him and trying to read his expression. “There’s nothing to apologize for.”
She fell silent, her lips closing beneath his fingertips—her soft but full lips that he had kissed at their wedding very briefly.
The kiss had only given him a small taste of her sweetness.
But he’d determined to be patient with kissing her every bit as much as he wanted to be patient with the marriage bed.
If he wasn’t extra careful in this current situation, he would jump right over a line he didn’t want to cross yet. That meant he had to take his fingers away from her lips—lips that were puckered from her protest, the curve alluring, the softness so inviting.
His muscles tensed, but somehow he managed to move his hand away from her mouth and back to his side.
“I’m sorry if I startled you.” She whispered another apology. “But I didn’t want you to think I was trying to avoid . . . this.”
Avoid what? “I wasn’t thinking that . . .”
“You weren’t?” Her whisper held a note of surprise.
What was she talking about? He was growing more confused by the second.
“Then you’re not upset at me?”
Her head was still on his pillow, only inches from his. “Of course not. Why would I be upset?”
“For . . . you know . . . falling asleep on the sofa and not being awake to . . .”
His whirling mind came to an abrupt halt. Was she insinuating she’d come to bed with him because she thought he would be angry about not being with her? Had he given her that impression?
He hoped not.
He released another tight breath. He should have had the conversation about expectations by now. If he’d been more proactive, they wouldn’t be in this awkward position.
He rolled over to his back and stared at the ceiling. He had to say something now.
Before he could formulate a sentence, she spoke first. “You’re doing your duty to me to take care of me and my unborn child. I’d like to do my duty to you.”
“Duty?”
“Yes, you know.” Her voice was matter-of-fact. “I won’t stop you from exercising your husbandly rights.”
“Whoa, now.” He sat up and began to scramble off the end of the bed.
The conversation was going downhill fast. Duty.
Husbandly rights. He knew exactly what she was insinuating, that he could have his way with her and she wouldn’t stop him.
The very idea of sating his needs with her like she was his possession was repulsive.
As his feet hit the floor, the coldness of the floorboards jarred him awake even more. She’d come to his bed because she thought it was expected of her. Maybe she even thought it was a way to repay him.
With a huff, he paced to the door, then halted. He couldn’t just walk away and leave her in the bed. “Amelia, it’s not like that. I’m not like that.” He turned back around to face her.
She was sitting up, the covers pushed aside and revealing her night clothing—if it even could be called clothing with how scanty it was.
Even through the darkness, the miles of her pale, bare skin were visible.
Except for thin straps, her shoulders, arms, and neck were completely uncovered.
The lacy edge dipped low, revealing the gentle swell of her bust. The skirt had bunched up above her knees, leaving her legs visible.
His mouth went suddenly dry even as his heart began to pound a strange, wild tempo.
She was a very desirable woman. There was no sense in denying it.
In fact, the more he took her in, with her long hair flowing all around her, dangling over her shoulders, draping over her back, the harder and faster the drum inside his chest beat.
This was his wife. She was in his bed. And she was a willing partner. Why should he deny himself if she was ready to consummate? If they did, then he wouldn’t have to worry about anyone questioning the legitimacy of their marriage.
He shook his head and dropped his gaze away from her. “This isn’t the way I want it to be between us.” The words came out low and hoarse.
She was silent.
He jammed his fingers through his messy hair, which was already sticking up in disarray. “I meant to tell you that I want to wait to share a marriage bed until after we get to know each other better and maybe even learn to like each other.”
“I like you already, Thatcher. And I’m sorry you don’t like me yet. I’ll try harder—”
“No.” The word came out almost harshly. He combed his fingers through his hair faster. “I like you too. But I want to wait until we like-like each other.”
“What is like-like?”
He was botching this whole conversation badly.
Maybe he’d known he would and that’s why he’d avoided it.
But he had to at least try to make her understand.
“Since we didn’t have the chance to court properly, I thought we could take some time to develop our affection for each other before we—well, before we share the marriage bed. ”
“Oh.” The breathless word was filled with surprise.
He looked at her again, and that was a mistake, because she was now standing beside the bed, revealing the full length of the nightgown, which was a silky material that caressed her body and seemed to beckon him to do the same.
Swallowing hard, he forced his gaze to her face, but not before he saw the curve of her abdomen where the baby was definitely growing. She’d hidden it well beneath her garments.
“I don’t want the marriage bed to be about duty or marital rights.” He stumbled over the words, glad for the darkness to hide his embarrassment. “I want us to both want to be together.”
She cocked her head. “I don’t understand.”
“We can develop affection for each other.”
“I already told you that I like you. You’re a kind and decent man.”
“I want more than toleration of each other.”
She seemed to be studying him. Then she sighed. “I’m sorry, Thatcher. Since I already do respect you, I don’t know what you mean.”
Had she never felt the sparks of attraction, the heat from a kiss, or the passion that could simmer between a man and a woman?
He’d assumed, since she’d been married, that she had some experience in those things. But what if the marriage bed with Charles had been nothing more than the duty and marital rights she’d referenced?
Thatcher’s gut tightened at just the thought of Charles using Amelia so callously. From everything she’d revealed about her former husband, that was probably what had happened.
With her mother having left at such a young age, maybe Amelia had never seen what a loving and happy relationship should look like. Maybe she didn’t know that a marriage could be filled with desire and affection.
His own mother and father had set a good example for him and his siblings. The two had been affectionate with each other. Not in a showy way, but in tender exchanges, sweet touches, and soft kisses.
Maybe it was his turn to provide an example and show Amelia what a true marriage could be like. He could teach her that a relationship consisted of more than what she’d had with Charles.
Of course, Thatcher wasn’t an expert at relationships and had a lot yet to learn.
But he’d experienced passion to a degree with Nora.
She’d enjoyed kissing him, which they’d done more of after they were engaged.
He’d also had some dalliances during his college years, enough to know that women didn’t have to be passive participants and could enjoy intimacy every bit as much as a man.
“I’ll try, Thatcher,” she said again, softly. “That’s what I was trying to show you tonight.”
“You don’t have to try.” He spoke just as softly. “Let’s just give our marriage some time and let our affection develop.”
She hesitated. “I’m not sure how to let it develop.”
“You don’t have to do anything. I’ll show you some ways.” The moment the words were out of his mouth, heat crawled up his neck. What was he saying? He was being too brazen, wasn’t he?
“Okay.” This time her reply held a note of shyness.
“Besides,” he said quickly, to alleviate the awkwardness, “as we get to know each other better and like each other, affection will develop naturally.” At least, he hoped it would.
She still had creases in her pretty forehead, but she nodded.
“Then we’re in agreement that we’ll put off the, uh, marriage bed until we’re both ready.”
“How will we know when that is?”
“I don’t know. Hopefully we’ll both just feel it.”
She hugged her arms together and shivered.
He started toward the bed to gather up the covers, but as he stepped on a blanket on the floor, he swiped that up instead.
“Here.” He stopped in front of her and draped it around her shoulders. He got a tiny glimpse of her cleavage before shielding her beautiful body behind the blanket.
How could he show her in this moment that he was attracted to her but in a way that wasn’t lustful?
A part of him wanted to just walk out of the room and get away from the fire and temptation she presented. But if he wanted to demonstrate the kind of consensual physical attraction that was possible between a man and a woman, then he had to start sometime. Why not now?
He lifted his hand to her hair and drew a strand behind her ear, slowly and tenderly. He skimmed his fingers along her cheek until he reached her dimple. Then he bent down and gently kissed the spot.
She drew in a breath but didn’t move.
“I’ve been wanting to do that since the evening I first laid eyes on you.”
“You have?”
He traced the adorable indentation with his finger.
She breathed in again, and this time it was more pronounced.
He was doing it. He was causing her to feel something. Maybe getting his wife to fall in love with him and desire him as a man would be more fun than he’d realized.
He would work on winning her slowly but persistently. That would be his goal over the next weeks as they started their new life together.
In the meantime, they needed to have separate sleeping arrangements, mostly for his sake so that he could stay strong in his resolve.
He took a large step away from her. “I’ll sleep up in the loft, and you can take the bed.”
She clutched the blanket around her more tightly. “I don’t want to disrupt you that way.”
“It won’t disrupt me.” He backed into the doorway. “I want you to have the bed—you and the baby.”
She opened her mouth as if she might argue with him. But how could she when it came to the baby? As if realizing the same, she closed her mouth, and her shoulders seemed to relax. “Thank you, Thatcher.”
He wanted her to feel comfortable with him, wanted her to like being around him. But after all she’d gone through in her first marriage, it would take some time. Thankfully, he was a patient man.
“Good night, Amelia.” With that, he exited the room and didn’t look back.