Chapter 11 #2
“How dare I?” he asked. “You seem to be rather enjoying the experience.”
Without warning, he cupped her breasts, and she jolted forward. Damien pinched her nipples through her gown, and her back arched. Maria moaned as his loins pressed against hers and a wave of pleasure ran through her.
“Look at how ready you are,” he murmured. “How much you enjoy my touch.”
She wrapped her arms about his neck, fingers entwining in his mane of dark hair.
His tongue touched her lips, and she responded by biting down on his lower lip.
It brought a sharp intake of breath from him that made delight explode within her.
The knowledge that he drew as much pleasure from her as she did from him was a headier brew than any wine.
Damien pinched her nipples against and rolled them between his fingers. Maria deepened the kiss, as her core ached with want. And then—
A sudden twinge of pain lanced up her leg from her ankle. She cried out, breaking the kiss and awkwardly reaching for her ankle.
“Does it still pain you?”
“The wine helps, I must say, but occasionally, yes,” Maria said, sitting down on the bed.
She was hot and flustered, and as she bent over to inspect her ankle, Maria realized that the nightgown opened just enough for her to see her pink nipples, aching for Damien’s touch once more.
Damien knelt before her and took her ankle in surprisingly gentle fingers. There was no pain as he examined the injury.
“Healing nicely,” he said, his fingers moving to her bare, stockingless foot and beginning to gently knead the sole.
“You are a physician now…” Maria managed to say before the sensation from his deft fingers reached her.
It was a wonderful, warm sense of relaxation and well-being that seeped through her like honey. The calmness was so startlingly different from the heat between them that it left her feeling unsteady.
“Oh my!” she gasped.
“I have read extensively on the theories of medicine practiced in other countries. Mainly to confound my distinctly Western friend, Simon. In India, this is practiced to bring relief from a variety of ills,” he said, “and as a prelude.”
Maria closed her eyes, biting her lip. “A prelude to what?”
Damien laughed softly, and her eyes opened.
Maria found her breath coming in quick gasps, heart aflutter, and stomach clenched.
He was relaxing her body with his ministrations, expelling the pain.
He was also inflaming her senses with behavior that felt wicked and wanton.
This was not what she had expected for her marital duties.
Scarcely believing what she did, she lay back on the bed. Damien rose above her, knelt on the bed and leaned over her, pushing hair from her brow.
“Will you take off the mask first?” Maria asked, reaching for it.
He raised himself beyond her reach.
“Why?”
“Because I would like to see my husband as he truly is. Not how the world sees him,” she said.
Damien stood, frowning. Maria propped herself on her elbows, feeling the sudden frigidity flowing from him in waves.
“I do not remove the mask. Not for any living person.”
“But I am not just anyone. I am your wife.”
“In name only.”
Damien walked away, one hand half-raised to the mask before falling away.
“I cannot give myself to a man I do not know. I have glimpses of your life only. Shafts of light briefly shining into the shadow,” she said. “I know you had parents, I know this house holds bad memories…”
Damien rounded on her, glaring. “What makes you say that?”
“Look at it!” Maria said. “Why else would you treat it so? You hate it. I can understand that.”
“You know nothing of me.”
“No, because you will not tell me. But I know myself.”
Maria felt the heat of desire cooling rapidly. She sat up, snatching the counterpane from the bed to drape about herself.
Damien ran his hands through his hair, taking in a deep breath.
“Understanding my past was never part of our arrangement,” he said, finally. “It is not a matter for discussion.”
“But my virginity is. You were happy to take me as an anonymous stranger, but not if I knew some basic facts about you. Such as what you look like,” Maria replied hotly.
“I had no such intention. I would not. I will not. Besides, you brought me to this room tonight!” Damien said.
“How? By failing to understand that my shadow could be seen? You did not have to look!”
“How could I not look, Maria!” Damien barked. “Do you think I’m made of stone?”
Maria found herself holding back a smile. The angry outburst was a compliment, though she was not sure he realized it.
“I had thought so,” she said.
“Do not mock,” Damien grated.
“Then, do not be pompous.”
“I will do as I please in my own house,” Damien replied, heading for the door.
He stopped as though hearing what he had just said. When he looked back, the corner of his mouth was twitching. Maria could not help but grin. She pressed her legs tightly together, some of the earlier heat returning.
“I will take my pomposity back to my rooms and not trouble you again,” Damien said.
“Will I see your pomposity at breakfast?” she asked.
“No.”
He strode from the room but paused in the doorway, looking back again.
“Your ankle still needs a few days to heal. It will weaken if you do too much. I have suffered similar injuries from fencing. Do not stray from the house until it is healed. The land around us can be treacherous.”
“I thank you for your concern.”
“I care little. I do not want the inconvenience of rescuing you again.”
“A little is better than nothing,” Maria said.
Damien grunted and left the room. For a long time, Maria watched the door after he had gone. Slowly, the warmth inside her grew cold and unsatisfied. It was as though her body had anticipated something wonderous to occur and was disappointed to find that nothing had.
With a sigh, she fell back onto the bed and closed her eyes, wide awake and longing for sleep to sweep away all the distress of the day.